[10.17]
Richie,
It sucks how hard I'm falling for you again.
Make all the jokes you want, but it's true. I don't think I've ever stopped falling, as you probably can see from my past writing's, but now that you're here, you're smiling, and bouncing, I think I'm
plummeting.
Yeah, I'm worried, and I can't help but think you'll leave again without warning, but as you sit in front of me at our favorite diner, the diner that's been our favorite since we used to share milkshakes when we were kids, I realize how much you make me feel.
When you do make me feel those things, I'm so focused on the strong emotions that overcome me, that I don't even soak up how emotional you make me. Just your overall presence sat across the booth from me right now makes me feel a way I'm not sure I can describe.
Fuck. You just caught me staring. Your lips twitched. I know you're trying to to smile.
You need to stop looking at me like that. I know I'm blushing. I'm trying to write.
"Eds," Richie whined across from him, his chin resting on his hands and his bottom lip puffed out in a pout. "Pay attention to me."
Never stop calling me that.
With a gentle but fond sigh, Eddie closes the bulky notebook, bringing the elastic strap around the cover to secure it closed before resting his chin on one of his hands. "Hi, Richie."
Richie just flashes him his toothy smile, and Eddie's mind erupted into thoughts of Richie, Richie, Richie, his fingers twitching due to how much he wanted to stick his nose back into his notebook and write out his feelings.
"You bring that thing everywhere, doncha'?" His friend asks, the grin not leaving his face. "When will I get to read your novel?"
"Never," Eddie tries to say as cooly as possible, subtlety moving the journal from the tabletop, instead into his lap.
Richie boo's at him. "Unfair, Spaghetti," he drawls, and Eddie's heart skips a beat, the nickname echoing behind his ears. "I'm your number one fan, though. I'll promise I'll buy all the paper backs."
"I deserve one thing separate from you," Eddie said jokingly, before immediately regretting it when he saw Richie's smile waver. "I mean... it's just that we tell each other everything... At least... we used to-?"
Richie cut him off, looking at his hands. "It's okay, Eds. You don't have to explain everything to me." Eddie still felt guilty.
"I know," Eddie said softly, picking at one of the corners of his notebook. "It's just kinda different. Hanging out like we used to when you were gone for four months."
Richie looked up then, taking a moment to process what Eddie had said, before inhaling sharply and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad."
You're sorry. He's sorry. You're actually sorry.
Eddie just quickly shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he lied. "You're here now."
Eddie's chest felt lighter when Richie's smile reappeared. "Yeah. I am. Now, what do you say? Two milkshakes?
-
It does matter, though. Sort of.
I felt so hopeless in those months, Richie. Hopelessly hopeless. You made me feel. The good and the bad.
I'm so willing to forgive you, because it so does matter that you've made me feel like I'm walking on air, but it also matters you've made me feel like I'm at the very depth of the ocean.
I don't want to pour out everything that's built up for the past few months on you, though. You don't need that right now. Or ever. But opening up, that small bit that I told you today, it made me feel a lot better.
I'm still debating if I should forgive you, though. Remember when I wrote that you split my entire being into two? That still hasn't changed. I can't make my mind up about you sometimes.
But I'm sure of a few things.
Like how in the diner, I was sure I would have rather been sharing my milkshake with you.
with feeling,
eds.
