The Way I Loved You - Reddie

I've Found Someone New.

You said you wanted some space;
I suggested Men in Black II.
Contempt filling your face, you said:
I've found someone new.

"I think we need some space, Richie," Eddie looked into Richie's dark eyes, as they studied his own plate. He looked so hard at him he swore he could see the clear contacts on them. Richie looked up and met his gaze, confused. "I don't think this- I don't think we're working out." Richie looked at his boyfriend as their conversation topic changed suddenly. He cocked his head, reading his boyfriend's body language. He realized this wasn't just one of Eddie's jokes. Richie's eyebrows came together as his face fell. Tears brimmed in his eyes with a surprising quickness at this realization, threatening to fall. He blinked them back as much as he could.
     "I mean, if you want space, we could watch Men In Black II," Richie tried desperately to joke with Eddie, feigning some humorless laughter. Richie shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake away the tears on his waterline. Eddie reached across the table and touched Richie's hand lightly. A small smile showing pity was plastered on Eddie's face. This was Richie. Of course he'd try to make jokes.
     "Rich, it's just," he struggled to find the right words. Sitting in this almost empty Denny's, Richie sure felt his anxiety skyrocket as if the restaurant was full, as if people were all around him. He felt hopeless. "It's just that, I don't think I feel the same about you anymore." he said these words so casually. How long had he been thinking about this? Eddie didn't make rash decisions. How long had Eddie known he was going to hurt Richie like he was nothing?
     "Do you love me, Eddie? Do you even love me? Did you ever love me?" Richie couldn't help the weak whispers of all the questions that were stumbling and spilling over his tongue, racing to be the first to reach Eddie's ears. He tried to stop them, as he was trying, currently, to stop the tears from spilling. But he was damned to be Trashmouth Tozier. Saying everything he thought.
     "You know I do, Rich. You know that I do. I always have. Ever since that day in the third grade. The first time we met. I was seven, and you were eight. You kissed my cheek and told me you would marry me one day." Eddie paused for a moment to remember those now-bittersweet moments. Eddie didn't feel the same anymore. They had both grown up. They were both nineteen, and Richie would soon be twenty.
     "And I would, Eds," he spoke slowly, reaching out and stroking Eddie's soft face with the back of his hand. "Hell, I still would. Always and forever, Spaghetti-Head." he gave Eddie a sad smile. He knew Eddie couldn't help what he felt. And he wasn't mad. He was disappointed in himself. He blamed himself. It was somehow his fault that Eddie didn't feel romantically toward him.
     Suddenly, as if coming to the realization that his life was changing, that he was losing Eddie, all over again, he began to talk again. Slowly at first, upturning the end of the sentence. He just couldn't wrap his head around this.
     "But how, Eddie? Why? I thought you said-" he erupted into careful sobs, choking sobs, sobs that threatened to cut off his air supply. He didn't dare let Eddie see the tears falling, turning slightly away from Eddie's apologetic gaze. He passed this movement off as him casually looking out the window. Eddie saw right through that.
     "Rich," Eddie tried to talk, but he realized it wasn't his turn. Richie calmly articulated the next things he said.
     "You said forever, Eddie. It was you. You told me to never break your heart." he was still whispering. He cried harder, hiccups already beginning to bubble in his throat. He turned back to face Eddie, his eyes pleading silently. And he swore he saw contempt fill Eddie's face.
     The next sentence that came out of Eddie's mouth hurt worse than anything Richie had ever experienced. The things he heard at home. All of the sounds he had to drown out at the small hours of the morning. The sound of bottles breaking. His parents arguing. Skin hitting skin. His mother crying, muffled only by the cheap apartment walls between them.
     It hurt worse than anything that he'd gone through in middle school and high school. The slurs. Getting shoved around in the hallway by Derry homophobes. Being Bowers' personal punching bag and carving post. He could not imagine anything he wouldn't rather have happened than what did.