Hold Me (Reddie)

Spaghetti and Coke (Richie)

The two of them left Bill's first, and they left together. Richie had walked there, so Eds walked his bike as they traveled back to Richie's house. He didn't know why but he was giddy. He was happy. Probably just because Eddie was, and that kind of thing was rare nowadays. Eddie had become more grumpy and irritable, not himself. But now he seemed to be more of himself at least, less afraid, more positive. Richie didn't want to be selfish and say it was because of him, but he believed that. Eddie seemed to be all over him, maybe even a little clingy, but he simply didn't mind. He thought Eddie was the cutest thing under the sun. Beautiful, magnificent, and purely adorable. Maybe Richie was over the top about him, but who cared? They walked to Richie's house before it started to get dark, around five or so. Richie had lost his watch during the summer, so he had no specific idea of time. And no money to replace it, either, so he'd just have to deal with it.

"I'm hungry, do you have anything?" Eddie whined, plopping himself down at the kitchen table.

"I have spaghetti and coca-cola, other than that I don't have much." Richie responded. He didn't want to disappoint Eddie, but in all honesty it was all he had. His mom only ever spent money on more alcohol, and his father was rarely spending money on anything but the girls Richie wasn't supposed to know about. He had to go shopping for food quite a lot, but Eddie didn't need to know that. Eddie was innocent, part of him didn't believe there could even be bad people on this Earth. Richie didn't want to be the one that tore him down. Maybe Richie thought that innocence would last forever. But nothing ever does.

"Do you even know how to boil water?" Eddie chuckled.

"You bet I do," Richie said, placing a pot of water on the tiny stove and turning it on. "I'm gonna make you the best fucking spaghetti you've ever had, and you're gonna love it." Eddie didn't say anything for a while when Richie was making the food. For a little bit Richie was worried he was mad, but then told himself he was being rediculous. Somehow Eddie was never that mad, except for a few days ago after the kiss. Eddie was usually happy, or stressed, but rarely angry. He was probably just tired, Richie concluded, and stirred the spaghetti until it was perfect. He grabbed two paper bowls and scooped some in. "Shit, I don't have sauce!"

"Do you have butter?"

Richie stared at Eddie for a minute, and then leaped for the fridge. There was no butter, only three bottles of Coke, a beer, a couple old apples and some ranch dressing. "Uh, no. How about some bland spaghetti?"

"Yummy, come sit!"

Richie handed a bowl and a Coke to Eddie, and sat at the small round table across from the boy he liked. The boy he would almost say he loved, if he was only old enough to know what Love was. He wasn't old like high schoolers and he wasn't mature like Bill, but if he did know love, he might've admitted it then that he loved Eddie. He loved his freckles and his hands and his eyes and his hair and his smile and his dumb sense of style and when he didn't shut up. He loved it when Eddie laughed, he loved making him laugh, he loved kissing him, even though he was only thirteen and wasn't old enough to know anything about love. "So did you want me to be your boyfriend, or what?"

Eddie smiled a big, ridiculous smile that seemed too big for his cheeks. "Richie, Richie, I thought, Richie!" He smiled so big it almost fell of his face and into the bowl of spaghetti. Richie laughed at him and leaned over the table to kiss his forehead sweetly.

"So it's settled?"

"I can't believe you, Richie, but you're amazing, and you're everything, I feel like Ben staring at Beverly, I feel like... Stan staring at a bird book for crying out loud! You're perfect."

"I ain't perfect, mistah," Richie said in one of his voices, though Eddie couldn't tell what it even was supposed to be. "I ain't perfect, but you's good!"

"Beep-beep, Richie."

————

"You mean the world to me, Eds," Richie said. They were sitting up in Eddie's bed, chatting away. It was very late, but once again Richie was missing his watch.

"You remember that time I told you I hated the name Eds? And I stopped telling you and put up with it? Well I hate it, so stop it!"

"Oh, you hate it Eddie Spaghetti? You hate it?" Richie tickled Eddie's side lightly, until the kid was laughing so hard he began to wheeze and needed a shot from the inhaler. Richie felt awful, his face had gotten so red. He hated the sound of Eddie's wheezing too, he could hear the pain and it made him feel uncomfortable. It was also hard to watch sometimes. Especially when he was the cause. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he breathed slowly. "You didn't...mean to.... my...as...pir..."

Richie grabbed it and placed it in his mouth, pulling the trigger and watching the kid seem to fill with life again. As soon as he did Richie wrapped his arms around him and held him close, so close he could feel his heartbeat beating away. Beat beat, beat beat, beat beat, beat beat...

"I'm fine, Richie," Eddie said. "It's bad, but you don't need to act like I died. I've had asthma as long as you've known me, what's your issue?"

"Dontcha know I gotta lot o' issues?" It was another dumb voice. Richie didn't even know what he was doing. He just wanted to hear Eddie laugh again. And he did. Eddie laughed and laughed, until he had to put a hand over his mouth to quiet the laughter so he didn't wake his mother. And then he stopped and looked up, and pushed his lips against Richie's peacefully, his arms on his side. Richie filled with peace too, a feeling of freedom. He thought it would last forever. But nothing ever does.