𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗘, reddie

026. vicenza

EDDIE couldn't help but curse under his breath when he stepped out of the taxi after Richie, amazed by how pretty the resort was. Way taller than expected, Eddie had to crane his neck a bit to see the height of the building.

Windows glinting in the starlight stacked the hotel in rows, a scene that appeared as if it came from a television screen. It felt sort of like a dream.

And it wasn't just the resort that felt this way. It was Richie Tozier next to him, a few inches taller and radiating the scent of cheap cologne and sweet tea. It was being in Florida, hot and humid, the swishy sound of cars driving past and shaking palm trees.

The spring air in Florida was way hotter than even the summer heat in Maine, and he felt sweat accumulating on his skin as he pulled his bag over his shoulder, the young taxi driver leaving them on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

The inside was wide and tall, almost elegantly so, a large chandelier hanging overhead and shining onto the floor — it wasn't necessary with the sun beaming through the windows, which seemed to line every wall.

"God, I'm starving," Eddie breathes out when he smells something sweet like syrup inside of the lobby, bouncing on his toes and turning to Jessica and William, who entered behind them just minutes after they got to the hotel. They'd been in a different taxi alongside Mike, which came moments after the other four had stepped into their own. "Can we get food after we put our stuff in the rooms?"

Richie laughs a little at his endearing eagerness, and it's evident that the shorter boy hasn't been on a vacation in a while. It's cooler inside of the lobby than it is outside, so he allows himself to casually lean closer to Eddie, their arms brushing together.

"We gotta get the room keys first, Spaghetti," Richie comments teasingly, nudging him gently with his elbow and grinning over at him. Eddie blushes and nods, glowing in the partially artificial lighting.

The hotel keys are the kind that scan to unlock the doors, and Eddie fumbles with it awkwardly when they get it and head to their hotel room, unable to unlock the door.

"You're so cute," Richie mumbles under his breath, and Eddie blushes a little at the compliment as Richie takes the key from his hand and unlocks the door easily, pushing it open.

"Wh— Hey! How'd you do that?" Eddie asks somewhat frantically as he follows Richie into the room, holding the door open with his shoe so that it doesn't his him as he walks in. Richie just laughs a little bit at him, and the noise makes Eddie's heart pick up.

His beautiful laugh was enough to deal with through the tinny speaker of his iPhone, but it's so much more wonderful in real life. He tries to distract himself by throwing his duffels onto the bed.

"Hey — Rich," Eddie says as he wonders around the relatively small room curiously, the taller boy opting to go through the things in his bag to set out more important items, "Look at this! It's - The sink! The sink isn't in the fuckin' bathroom!"

Richie raises an eyebrow and walks over to Eddie, noticing that he's very correct; the sink is just outside of the bathroom, a hotel soap sitting next to it, securely sealed.

"That's, like, really unsanitary, by the way," Eddie points out, crossing his arms and squinting as if the designers were idiots - which, they were. "People are using the restroom and touching the doorknob before they even wash their hands! I'll put some hand sanitizer in the bathroom. It's fine. Which reminds me, actually—"

He walks past Richie and back into the main part of the hotel room, leaving the taller boy with a grin on his lips. Eddie was even more adorable in real life. Fuck. He follows him to see him using a disinfectant wipe on the remote to the television.

The room isn't too large, and the bathroom-sink-area is separated from the bed part with a wall. It's nice enough; there's two beds, a little closet, a nice television, a little desk. There's even a little coffee maker that Richie might just have to utilize.

Richie leans against a wall a little as he watches Eddie focus on his task; he's got his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

When Eddie notices that Richie is watching him, he looks up and raises an eyebrow curiously, fighting back a smile. "You're just so adorable, Eds!" Richie explains easily, and Eddie ducks his head.

Richie can't help but be a little bit overwhelmed by seeing the boy in real life; his face is a lot rounder than it seemed in pictures, his hair a lot lighter than he'd expected. His lips were even prettier in real life, a coral pink, and his nose and cheeks were always a bit rosy.

"I'm not even doing anything!" Eddie responds, flustered, "I'm just keeping us safe. You don't know who last touched this remote." Richie snorts and furrows his eyebrows, still nodding and grinning.

"Right, right, no need to get defensive. It's just cute," Richie responds easily, putting his hands up defensively with a teasing tone in his voice.

Eddie scoffs playfully and turns down to the remote in his hands, placing it back on the stand between the two beds once he's satisfied with his job.

Richie's phone chimes in his pocket: Bev is asking the groupchat if Richie and Eddie are ready to 'rock and roll' to the cafeteria downstairs. He laughs a bit at her wording, but still turns to look at Eddie where he stands across the room.

"Hey, Eds, I hate to interrupt—" This, for some reason, earns Richie a glare from him, "But, the others said that they're ready to eat, so..."

Eddie looks a bit burdened by this information, awkwardly glancing down at the wipe in his hands as if he were planning on thoroughly wiping every inch of the walls clean ( Richie wouldn't put that past him ) but instead he just slowly drops the wipe into the garbage can and turns, digging a tube of hand sanitizer out of one of his bags.

"Gimme your hands," Eddie says, stepping over to Richie while the cap of the small container pops open, one of those hand sanitizers that don't have a scent, and he squirts it to the taller boy's open hands.

It almost feels intentional when Eddie uses his own hands to rub the sanitizer into Richie's skin, the pads of fingers running over the creases of his hands, gently lingering as he pulls away.

( It is intentional; Eddie smiles a little at him, sheepishly, after their hands part. )

The elevator takes them from floor seven down to the lobby, stopping once to let on a pair of pretty teenage girls, who are animatedly gossiping about their classmates.

One of them keeps staring at Eddie, and Richie doesn't blame her. I mean, he'd be staring at Eddie if he was some hormonal teenager too.

He was staring at Eddie now, and he was nineteen. Which, technically, is still in hormonal teenager range, so maybe he was staring at Eddie as a hormonal teenager. So what?

When the elevator pings and tells them that they're on the lobby floor of the hotel, the doors slide open and they walk towards the cafeteria. The lights are bright overhead, chandeliers hanging brightly, the sun outside higher in the sky.

The sound of people buzz in the background, all talking among each other, laughing. But Richie doesn't care about the background noise, no matter how much life it radiates.

He thinks a crowd of a million people will never contain the life that Eddie does; he expresses so loudly, so passionately. He smiles when he's happy, he laughs when he's amused, he pouts when he's angry.

He's beautiful, and he contains so much life within him that Richie can't help but feel alive in his presence.

When they order their food from the court and sit at a wide table, Richie's jokes make Eddie laugh as he eats his waffles, tiny bites at a time.

Richie's heart hammers in his chest as he stares at Eddie, energetic and happy and content, and he thinks he'll likely live forever.