kissing in cars|reddie

eleven

They had decided to stay at another motel for the day. Richie was exhausted from driving and having to deal with the brunette, and Eddie wanted some sleep and warmth. Before Eddie could hop into the shower, Richie had given him one of his shirts, saying, "You've worn the black one for three days. You don't want to stink when you meet your dad, do you?" To which Eddie huffed but took the shirt.

Richie was busy making sandwiches when Eddie finally got out of the bathroom, looking completely flustered.

"Cat got your tongue?" Richie teased, looking as the smaller boy grabbed an already finished sandwich and took a seat on the bed. Eddie ignored him, feeling nervous because of the shirt that wasn't his.

It's so silly, getting nervous at a shirt given by someone you're supposed to hate. But each day, Eddie finds himself growing a bit more fond of Richie. He was so nice...when he wanted to be. Yet, here he was, casually spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread for Eddie to eat, despite the boy wanting so desperately to actually hate him. He couldn't hate him. Not even a lot. Not even a little bit. He thinks maybe he could learn to really like Richie.

Anyways, once Richie grabbed his own snack, he sat down right next to Eddie on the squeaky matress. Eddie felt the bed shift down, Richie's pressure adding to the uneasy feeling inside of him.

"You want to watch something, Ed's?" Richie said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Turn on the TV and maybe we can find out."

Oh. Right. Eddie had been chewing on his food in silence, staring at nothing but the disgusting colored wall and listening to the buzz of the upper apartment, as someone walked around. So he sat up momentarily to get the remote, looked at the selective channels that were offered on a list, and finally settled on a random channel with a show called Dawson's Creek.

"You haven't insulted me once today. Are you okay?" Richie asked once they got one and a half episodes finished.

"Huh?" Eddie looked at him curiously, his head moving to the side.

"Uh, I'm- I mean, like," he coughed. "You're pretty silent."

Eddie scoffed, "What's got your tongue tied?" Then he was smirking, but he wasn't necessarily joking.

"Nothing."

It was the end of their awkward conversation after that, and Eddie began to flip through the other channels because of how boring Dawson's Creek was. He decided on Seinfield, and grabbed another sandwich off of the plate Richie set by him.

Then, Eddie finished it as soon as he began. He blushed, a thought coming to him.

"Er," he started, catching Richie's attention again. "I-I never said thank you...you know, for all the stuff."

"What do you mean?" Richie smirked.

"...Thanks."

"For what?" Richie poked at his side, wanting to hear the full thanks. He was glad that he was getting something nice out of Eddie's mouth for a change.

Eddie huffed, his eyes averting down to his lap. "Thanks for the food and shit, you prick."

"Aww, little Ed's is warming up to me!!" Richie put his fist in Eddies hair, ruffling it up.

"Stop that." Eddie said, as angry as he could, even though he actually liked the short touch. He pushed Richie's hand away, softly smiling. He then caught Richie was staring at him.

It was an endearing look, and it made Eddie scared because of how Richie's eyes were calm, and his body was shifting toward him. His breath caught in his throat. He didn't deserve that look. He didn't deserve Richie to be treating him like a friend. Because they weren't friends, Eddie thought, they could not ever be friends after all of the shit they've done. The screwing around, the intimate touching, the wearing others clothes....no, not what friends did. Besides, they had despised each other not even a week ago.

"Hey, uh, you alright there? You're looking a little green."

That was when Eddie started to back up, scooting higher on the bed so his back was nearly touching the pillow.

"I don't want you to look at me."

Richie was still staring at him. "But there's so much to see." Then he winked.

Eddie snorted. "Ugh, you're making me nervous." He was blushing.

"Why am I making you nervous?"

"...'cause I'm starting to think you might be too good of a person for me."

Richie was, well, shocked for the most part. Did Eddie Kaspbrak really just say that to him? What was this sick game? He sighed, and looked away from the brunette. There was some ridiculous, strange, fluttery feeling in his tightened chest- and he wanted to ignore it. Eddie started to think that he creeped Richie out. It made his anxiety overwhelm him.

"Richie," Eddie held his knees to his chest, looking at the navy blue blanket beneath him. There was so much going through his head; his mother, his father and how he wasn't ever involved in Eddie's life, Richie being a dick and a good person at the same time, his own battle with himself...the list could go on. Eddie's life was a mess. He was a mess.

Richie waited for him to continue, and saw just how vulnerable and fragile Eddie was at the moment. He looked so...broken and shattered. Richie saw a few tears leave the corners of his fawn-like eyes. Eddie's fingers were clutching the fabric of his thin pants, his face full of misery. Eddie was a broken record.

He waited. And for a few minutes, all he could hear behind him was sniffles and sobs.

Then, Eddie said, his voice cracking, "Why doesn't anyone love me?"

And Richie's shoulders tense, and he didn't want to look behind him to see Eddie shatter even more. Richie's body was stiff; he couldn't move and wouldn't move. Maybe Eddie needed him right now. Maybe he wanted to be alone. A question emerged from Richie's mind;

How the fuck was he supposed to answer that?