Hold Me (Reddie)

Confessions

It was around one in the morning when Eddie had officially decided that he would stop crying. Of course, making the decision to stop was a lot easier than stopping itself. He had gotten home from the Barrens around six, long after Richie had discarded the love note, and ran into his room. Crashed on his bed and cried. He cried for hours and hours because he knew his mom wouldn't hear. He cried because he loved Richie, and he cried because he knew Richie didn't love him. He was acting like a teenage girl. If Richie saw him crying like that he'd laugh and say...some stupid joke that no one except Eddie would ever find funny, probably.

Eddie knew how it had begun, too. In the very beginning of their friendship, it was normal like any other. Riding bikes, watching movies, not doing homework. It was only a year ago Eddie really started to feel connected to him. He thought he was going insane! He didn't really know what was wrong with him. All he knew is that every moment he wasn't with Richie was unbearable. He wanted to be with him more and more, with every little second that passed. And then he heard people on the news channel his mom was watching, and what he heard horrified him. Gay. Queer. Homosexual. They were twisted words, words that scared him more the more he heard them.

But as soon as the summer had ended everything had gotten much worse. He realized that all his friends had crushes on all the girls in Derry...and he was still gushing over Richie. And it had gotten worse, too, like an infection that had spread all over. In truth it was not an infection. In truth he was doing what was deemed a horrific thing to do. He was falling in love with a boy.

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Eddie never liked sleeping in late. He would always worry about wasting the day. And February break was only a week long, he had to make it count somehow. He was out the door and on his bike before he even made up his mind about where he was going. His mind first fell on Bill, bet then he remembered Bev was in town. Mike was going on some trip for three days to visit his aunt. Eddie could go to Stan's, but all he wanted to do was see Richie. So that's where he went. He rode his bike quickly through the Sunday morning cold, trying to think of an excuse as to why he'd be going to Richie's in the first place. He never liked to be the kid who showed up at a house uninvited. But he was going to be that kid now. He felt like he was going to pass out by the time he arrived at Richie's. He placed the aspirator in his mouth and pulled the trigger, feeling the icky medicine travel through his throat. And then he rung the doorbell.

"What the shit are you doing here?" Richie laughed. He was still in pajamas, an old tee shirt and his boxers. His black hair was messy on top of his head.

"I don't know. Can I come in?" Eddie was sweating so much. And he felt his throat closing up again, so he used the aspirator once more. Richie gave him a puzzled look.

"Uh...are you okay, Eds? Did something happen?" Richie let his friend in. Eddie felt like he was dying. Maybe he was.

"I don't know," Eddie repeated. He was embarrassing himself. "Do you want to talk? I, uh, I might want to talk." Eddie had no excuse to explain himself. Was he okay? He didn't know himself, not a clue. But he didn't want Richie to think he was an absolute freak. He didn't show up at houses uninvited. It just wasn't him, and Richie knew it too. Richie payed attention to small things like that no doubt. Richie had always seemed that way to Eddie, just a tiny bit hyper attentive. It interested Eddie, just like every other damn thing about him.

"Come on in, I guess," Richie said awkwardly and they went into his bedroom. Once again Eddie sat on the window sill, but this time he tried to quiet his thoughts. "Seriously, Eds, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I still don't know. Probably just nerves."

"Can I put on a record?" Richie asked. "Just some, ah, background music while we talk?" He reaches onto his small stack and chose a Barry Manilow vinyl, then put it on and let it spin. The music was soothing, but Eddie was still stressed as hell. "Ain't it great?" Rich laughed, dancing around like he was a ballroom prince. He waltzed over to Eddie and grabbed his hand, and they danced to This One's For You. Eddie knew none of it was real. He wasn't dancing with Richie for anything but a joke. But he was still dancing with Richie. Their hands were locked as Richie dipped Eds, and almost dropped him on the floor. This caused an enormous outburst of laughter from both. "I'm sorry, Eds."

"Don't be, let's just hope you don't do that to Janice at the eighth grade dance," Eddie retorted casually. He was almost believable. Inside though, he was cringing at what he had said.

"And let's also hope that you grow a fucking pair and ask Greta Bowie before her hair turns grey." A few seconds passed, and then Richie's expression changed. He looked concerned. Probably because Eddie wasn't laughing like he should be. He was not even close to believable! "Oh my god, Eds, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Eddie reached for the aspirator in his pocket and took another breathe through it. And then he opened his mouth. At first he didn't know what to say. But he found the words.

"I need to tell you something, I'm sorry, but it's important," he started.

"Please tell me your mom is still doing that shitty aerobics thing on her VHS, it's hilarious."

"No Richie, this isn't a joke."

"What?"

"I was the one who wrote the letter."