Thunderbolts And Lightning, Very Very Frightening Me

One

It's storming loudly in Derry and Eddie's awake. He doesn't want to miss the storm.

The teen is laying on his back with his eyes closed, listening to the rain on his window. Thunder was moving in steadily, the intensity growing as the storm moved over the town.

For as long as Eddie can remember, he's loved storms. Thunderstorms in particular. It's a force of nature, loud and unapologetic. It can be sharp and sudden, startling people and pets by breaking the silence of the room violently. Or it can be low and rumbling, drawn out and filling his bones with comfort and vibrating the walls.

The rhythmic drone of rain pattering outside is soothing to Eddie. It drowns out his problems, wrapping him in a security blanket. The thunder is inescapable, all encompassing and comforting.

Eddie's trance is broken by his window rattling. His eyes snap open.

Eddie's gotten into the habit of leaving his window unlocked in case a certain trashmouth decides to drop by late at night. On a normal night, the rattling wouldn't alarm him. It would just mean Richie was here. He didn't think to lock it before the storm. Didn't think he needed to, but now fear grips him sharply. There's no way Richie came here during the storm.

The window lifts and Richie tumbles into the room.

It's just Richie.

Eddie sighs in relief.

Wait. What?

"Richie!" He hisses sharply. "What are you doing here? It's a fucking nightmare out there, I can't believe you would come here when it's raining like that!"

The taller boy was absolutely drenched. His dark hair in his face and his hands slipping as he haphazardly closes the window behind him. Richie doesn't respond to Eddie.

"Richie?" Eddie tries.

Richie locks the window and turns to Eddie. He hesitates for a moment while thunder crashes outside. Lightning lights the room and exposes Richie for a brief moment. He's been crying.

"Uh, do you have any clothes I can borrow?" Richie chokes out, attempting to keep his voice steady despite the shake.

"Oh um- of course. Top drawer." Eddie sits up and fists his blanket.

Richie nods and slides his shoes off before shuffling through the drawer and changing his clothes out. He sets the wet clothes in a pile by the window. Eddie silently pats the bed and Richie shifts over, crawling under the sheets.

In the past few months there's been a distinct change between Eddie and Richie.
They've never talked exclusively about it; if the soft touches and lingering glances mean anything. It began with Richie going out of his way to touch Eddie; hand resting on his elbow— against his arm— on the small of his back— and progressed to him just holding his hand.

And it escalated in other ways too.

They had agreed the best way to utilize the hammock without fighting was to simply share it. Somehow over the years, this progressed to straight up cuddling. Eddie had long stopped protesting when Richie would pull him against his chest in the clubhouse. It just made sense, he had reasoned. They were both growing and were now much larger than they were at 13, this was the easiest way to fit into the hammock without fighting.