𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 • 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆

* new beginning *

If Eddie had thought things between them would go right back to normal, he was sorely mistaken. On the surface, he and Richie were just as close as they had always been. They were back to seeing each other every day. They had resumed their nightly walks, and their long hours talking under the stars. Their pillow fort - which Eddie had disassembled after two weeks of not speaking to Richie, its presence a painful reminder of what he was missing - had made a comeback, twice as good as its predecessor (according to Richie. Eddie thought it was exactly the same as the last). The blankets often saw them awake until the early hours of the morning, teasing each other and trying to throw popcorn into one another's mouths.

They had even taken to studying together. With finals drawing ever nearer, they needed all the revision time they could get. They quizzed each other with flashcards, distracted each other when they got too bored, proofread each other's last-minute assignments. Their papers were everywhere. Neatly printed Business notes intermingled with hastily scrawled Theatre History jottings across Eddie's living room floor. He couldn't remember the last time his apartment had been this messy. Probably during last year's finals.

"What's another word for bad ?" Richie asked. He was laying on his back, holding his notebook up above his head.

"Uh." Eddie racked his brain. "Negative?"

"Too obvious."

"Unfavourable?"

He snapped his fingers. "That's the one."

As the scratching of Richie's pen filled the room, Eddie tried to go back to his own work, but he couldn't focus. All he could think about was how he and Richie were practically on opposite sides of the room, and how that had become the norm with them since reconnecting. There was a distance between them that simply hadn't been present before, and not just a physical one. Eddie noticed it when they sat on the couch and were careful not to encroach on each other's personal space. When they held eye contact a second too long, and both coughed awkwardly and looked away. When Richie reached for his hand to guide him down a side street, but paused and instead let his arm fall limply back to his side.

"Give it t-time," Bill had told him when he'd brought it up a week after Richie's dramatic declaration. "It's always weird at first, seeing someone you haven't s-s-spoken to in a while. You guys will be back to normal in no time."

Eddie hoped he was right. But he couldn't help but feel that there was more to it than that. There was uncertainty. Cautiousness, neither wanting to overstep. And, at least on Eddie's part, there was guilt. Every time he looked at Richie, he remembered his words from that night.

You're the sun.

You're my best friend.

I need you.

At the time, they had felt like the sun rising after an endless night - relief, warmth, excitement. But now they felt heavy. They were like a cloud hanging over him. Every time he thought of them, he felt his stomach twist in guilt and anxiety because he hadn't said anything back . He didn't know if Richie expected him to, or even wanted him to, but Eddie felt like he needed to. The problem was that he had no idea what to say. How was he supposed to even bring it up?

"Nice weather we're having, huh? By the way, I love you too, and I love being your friend but I want to be more than that and I don't know how to deal with it. Anyway, the snow will probably all be gone soon, don't you think?"