Do Not Fucking Touch Me // Reddie

Twenty One

(Eddie's POV)

Today was the day. We were driving all the way from small coastal Derry, Maine, all the way to the Big Apple, New York City! I was so excited. I was so thankful for Richie, for him talking to my uncle and allowing this to happen. He didn't have the money to spend on the hotel or anything, but what mattered to me was that he made this all possible. He planted the idea in my uncle's head and negotiated with him about it. He knew I'd always wanted to see the big city, see what it's like outside of Derry.

I sat in the back of my uncle's hatchback SUV. I made somewhat of a blanket fort for Richie and I back there. I pinned the corners of several sheets and duvets to the handlebars and headrests. It was not just intended to keep us comfortable on the car ride there, it was also for a little bit of privacy. I just didn't feel comfortable kissing Richie in front of many people. Definitely not his parents, because they still hadn't completely accepted me as Richie's boyfriend. I think they still thought of me as his best friend. We were still best friends, we still had sleepovers and told each other everything, but I was in love. And so was he. And for as long as that magical occurrence would last, I was determined to enjoy it. So I blocked off the back from the view of my uncle, purely to cuddle and kiss my boyfriend without any awkward eye contact with my uncle from the rear view mirror.

We pulled up to Richie's and my heart fluttered like wings of a dove taking off into the sky. From the car window I saw his mom kiss him on the forehead for a long period of time. He'd never been out of town either. I guess they were worried. Little did they know that the true troubles of our lives took place in our home town. He waved goodbye to his parents who stood in the doorway on their porch as he raced down the sidewalk, suitcase whizzing behind him. My uncle, with the car parked, got out and helped Richie put his suitcase in the trunk. He then opened the door to the back and my boyfriend entered the fort I'd made.

He looked all around him, in a 360 view. "Eds, what's this all about?" he said, pulling his feet in before my uncle shut the car door beside him. He sat next to me and buckled his seatbelt.

"I've never been on a road trip before, and neither have you," I explained, "So, naturally, I thought we'd be more comfortable if we had a bunch of blankets and pillows."

He chuckled and looked deep into my eyes. "Well," he said, leaning back in the seat and up against a row of pillows, "I do feel pretty comfy."

I smiled. "Good."

I pulled out the bag of goodies I stashed behind the passenger seat. I nodded and smiled at Richie. "Go on, open it," I instigated. He did as I said, at a slow pace as to figure out in his mind what the contents were before his eyes could register the truth.

It was filled to the brim with all of Richie's favorite candies, a walkman containing a mixtape of his favorite songs, crossword puzzles, and more. As he pulled each item out and set them carefully on the seat beside him, I could see him blush. I wanted that to happen. He was usually the one with the thoughtful gifts. Hell, he practically spoiled me. I didn't ask for any of it. He made me feel like the world was mine, and that everything could be perfect. It took me a while to adapt to this change. It was so surreal, so distant from the horrible place I was in before. The scars on my wrists began to heal, and those inside me healed too. He vowed he would help with that, and by god did he deliver.

I wanted to give him that feeling too. I wanted to show him I could make him feel like everything revolved around him. Deep down, that's what we all want. We want to feel so suffocated in love that nothing else matters, nothing else even registers as important. I knew it was a haze, a blanket that covered my eyes to the harsh reality, but I loved it just the same. Richie cared about me like no one ever had. I cared about him in that way too.

"You outdid yourself," Richie said, brushing stray hairs away from the framing of my face. "Again."

I wasn't sure if he would like the necklace I bought him. I thought he might think it would be too girly for his style, too cheesy of an object of love. To my surprise and joy, he kept it hung around his neck and even over his clothes. He always made sure the E was showing right above his heart. He fiddled with it as he said 'again'. In that moment I was completely certain he loved me.

We each took one half of the headphones for the walkman (which I didn't even have prior, so I had to go searching for one at every store), and I pushed the tape into the opening on the side and pushed it shut. The machine whirred and pulled tape through its innerworkings, and finally, sound flooded into our eardrums.

The first song on my list was meant to be more of a joke than to be taken completely seriously, but the message behind it was true. It was Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley. He giggled as he started to first hear the theme music come through the headphones. He shook his head at me. We dramatically lip synced the words, using water bottles as microphones, and wound up laughing so hard, so much, that I was balled over. He pulled me to his chest and we both smiled with the warmness in our hearts connected by the headphones.

After that song was done, my sappy side came out. The next few songs consisted of Joy Division, The Smiths, and then, my ode to my love to him, I Melt with You by Modern English. It felt so sweet, so reflective of the feelings I felt for him. I hoped he knew. I could only wish in my head that he knew how much he meant to me, and how I handpicked these songs to show him. I had to speak to him through lyrics of songs because I had no clue how to even begin telling him myself. Sure, I told him I loved him, and often, but there was no way in my mind that I could describe the love I felt. There are many different kinds of love. I knew mine was special.

The way his eyes lifted from their resting place at his lap or out the window and soared into mine like an abyss, that was when I knew he noticed. He was not that book smart, my boy. He was sure as hell a smart-ass, if that counted. He didn't catch on to my feelings for him for ages until we kissed. Nothing was the same since then. I thought he might have been evolving in process of thought since then, but my theories hit dead ends. It seemed as if he were still fighting desperately for my attention and time. He was trying to convince me that he was worth the energy. I already knew that. I loved him more than mere words could describe, and yet, I couldn't even say that. I never said much.

"I love you, Richie. I know I say that a lot, but it's true. It's really true. You mean more to me than you know," I whispered. He was half asleep when the song ended. I thought maybe he hadn't heard over the music. He smiled with his eyes closed and whispered back, "I know. I love you too."

I hadn't kept very careful watch over the time, but at this point it had been a couple hours. I let myself sink into the pillows and blankets and into the space between Richie's left arm and his torso and felt more comfortable than I ever had. The boy of my dreams was next to me, and he loved me, and I loved him, and we were going to New York together.

I slept then, my head filled with dreams of the future with him, road-tripping across the whole United States, with no plan or worries, just each other.