greetings from stardust

chapter 6

The next morning, Eddie almost believes it was a dream. Except he can still feel the ghost of Richie's lips on his, feel Richie's chest under his hands — and there's this thing in the air between them. Richie is quieter than usual. He gives Eddie a smile that's almost shy, which can't be true because Richie doesn't get shy, but there it is anyway. They don't talk much but they play another mixtape so they don't have to.

And it's just — it's not that Eddie feels awkward. Awkward would mean he regrets it, that it was an embarrassing moment he wants to forget; but instead, despite his red cheeks and the fluttering in his chest that would otherwise imply embarrassment, all he wants to do is think about it, relive it over and over. He wants to do it again, for longer this time and in the light. He wants to see Richie's face more clearly and hear him make noises, wants to push and see how far it can go.

The fear that Richie doesn't want him to is the only thing that stops him.

"God, I stink." The boy in question says suddenly, lifting an arm to sniff his own armpit. Eddie wrinkles his nose like he always does when Richie is gross. He has a beanie shoved over his curls, sticking out in every direction, t-shirt dirty because it was right at the top of his bag. He still looks good somehow, but he's right — they both need a shower.

"Yeah you do," Eddie says. "But how do you suppose we do anything about that?"

"I was thinking either sponge bath or preening each other like monkeys, what do you think?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I want a shower," he says wistfully. "I feel dirty — shut up, you know what I mean."

Richie laughs. "Okay, I do have an idea," he says.

He drives them a mile or so down the road and then veers off onto a side path towards the forest, seemingly knowing where he's going, but Eddie is sure he's just winging it. There are no cars driving alongside them now, no visible houses. Just tall trees and tall grass and rocks and red clay lining the road. Finally they pull over onto a dusty shoulder. The reeds ahead have been flatted into a path from footsteps, so Eddie knows they aren't actually lost in the woods, but it still feels secluded.

"What are we doing?" Eddie asks, already knowing the answer and dreading it.

"Showering," Richie says with an easy grin. "Well, more of a bath really. Come on," he opens his door and climbs out, stretching like he's been driving for hours and not just twenty minutes.

Eddie follows hastily.

The air outside is hot, a dry, earth smelling wind rustling the grass. The trees are bright green, red bark and blue skies. Everything feels extra saturated, but not in a way that's harsh to look at. Eddie watches Richie lead them down the path, looking black and white in the bright colours. He's humming as he walks, arms out to his sides, fingers brushing through the reeds. Once again Eddie notices how he stands out and still looks like he's right where he should be.

When the trees open up they're on a riverbank standing on large, flat rocks in all sorts of colours. The river itself is wide and not too deep looking, but seems deep enough to stand submerged in. Water bubbles peacefully downstream, skipping over rocks, glistening in the sunlight. The other side is all trees, with the same grassy path continuing through them.

Eddie's head turns automatically towards the sound of Richie dropping his shoes on the rock. He hops a little on one foot, commenting on how warm it is, pulling his shirt over his head clumsily.

"So are you — we're just gonna bathe here?" Eddie asks.

"Yes," Richie says. "And before you say a damn word: you swam all the time in the lake back home, rivers are cleaner than lakes, swimsuits are the same as being naked when it comes to water, and you'll acquire more germs by sitting in the car all day probably."