12. maybe

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by: scumfuck (orphan account)
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Sometimes, Eddie Kaspbrak had fleeting thoughts of maybe.

Just maybe.

He never acts on it, of course, because every time it crosses his mind he flicks it away and instead centers his thoughts on something else, like what time his next lecture was or when he should leave for work. They never fell back on Richie, no, never him. If they did, they would never stop thinking, and he'd be all wrapped up in Richie-this and Richie-that, so he preferred not to let his mind wander there.

The next time it happens that Eddie did think about Richie, they're on the subway. They'd both come from their latest classes, and Richie looks as if he'll collapse if he had to move one muscle.

"Let me just rest my eyes, I swear I'm awake," he says as he falls sideways onto Eddie's shoulder, his hair tickling Eddie's neck. He still has his glasses on, but they seem to not be a problem for him because he pays no mind to them. Eddie gives a half hearted grunt, in doubt of his promise, but decides not to say anything more. He couldn't blame Richie for being so sleepy at this time of night, after all, Richie talks a lot during the day, and moves a lot, so Eddie figures he'd be out of energy too.

Eddie catches himself staring at the subway markers, then speaking without thinking.

"Hey, Richie," he really didn't mean for his lips to be in his hair when he says it. Richie gives a "mmph" in reply.

"My apartment is closer. I don't feel like cutting through all the people in Times Square right now, and I really don't wanna haul your ass up-"

Richie's fingers smush up against his lips in plea to silence him. He feels the boy grin against his shoulder, then reply in a low voice. "Yes, Eds, I'll stay at yours."

The subway comes to a halt at their station, and Eddie makes the effort to literally drag Richie off, who complied, but not eagerly. When they get to the street, Eddie reminds Richie that his apartment isn't that far of a walk, and they'll be there in no time.

Richie stops and gives a homeless man change along the way.

"God bless you," the man almost yells, "And Happy New Year."

Eddie remembers.

Right. It's New Year's Eve.

When they were young, Richie and Eddie and all of their friends would do things on New Year's. And when the two of them came to New York, they were usually invited to parties and get togethers. There was something about this year that just didn't work out in that sense, whether it be their classes or work or friends or whatever.

When they get into Eddie's apartment, Richie drops his backpack and heads for the couch. He takes the remote and looks up at Eddie.

"Dude, I think I'm gonna watch the ball drop and call it a night. I'm fucking pooped."

Eddie nods absentmindedly, and takes off his jacket, placing it on the hook next to Richie's.

Richie probably won't even make it that far, he thinks, but it doesn't really matter too much. Eddie sits himself in the kitchen, makes himself an effortless dinner, and reads the next chapter of Les Mis for his French class. He listens to the host of the ball drop faint in the background.

At around 11:30, Eddie finishes and closes his book, before getting up to check on the television. Richie is wrapped up in Eddie's duvet, drowning in it, and staring at the television. Eddie blinks, and that word is back, maybe. All smug and cheeky.

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