𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 | f.w

⇢ 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 /𝟐

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#8
richie
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⇢ warnings/content : no warnings, i didn't figure out the year in the last part so you lot can do the maths, they're 15/16 here i guess

⇢ this piece of shit has absolutely
no business being 2.4k words
and i'm so sorry eye-   

THEY BOTH knew it was stupid. so fucking stupid to like your best friend. like like-like. neither of them had told anyone other than y/n letting it slip to bev once at a sleepover but it was so damn obvious. mike even made a bet with stan because he just knew one of these days richie wouldn't be able to keep that one thing to himself but stan thought y/n would get pissed at richie and end up telling him then like a cliche story. there was no point in the bet though. it was clear as day that mike would snatch the ten dollars because no matter how head-over-heels-stupidly-in-love with richie tozier y/n was, she'd never ever crack like that. it was also the fact that every time he saw her he'd look at her like she'd hung the moon and stars and everyone but y/n noticed.

richie couldn't remember when he started to like-like y/n but the earliest memory that wasn't fuzzy in the slightest like the rest was the day at the park. "i was nine, it doesn't count!" he'd tell himself. he still wouldn't accept that he liked- no, probably loved her. yeah, he realised that now she has to do the bare minimum of just smiling to make his day. yeah, he realised that he got a little jealous when she fell asleep with her head on eddies shoulder at their weekly movie night at bill's. even though she was on the other side of the room and there was literally no possible way of her resting on his shoulder instead. but that doesn't mean anything! then again, when he tried to come up with a reason that he wanted to accept, he couldn't.

ever since that day at the park, richie and y/n felt like they were the closest friends you could possibly find. as they grow older, however, they both wished they didn't feel the way they did and that they could carry on being the inseparable team they always have been. but y/n handled it better than him.

she didn't get jealous when bev had to ride on the back of his bike when her tire went flat. she didn't blush so hard she had to touch her cheeks to make sure they weren't on fire every time he pulled her into his side with his arm around her waist when they watched a movie. well, maybe once or twice. the point is y/n liked richie.

richie was fucking whipped. he just couldn't do the same things he used to when he was little. things like coming home from school and getting on with whatever homework he had to do. he could wear a different outfit almost everyday if he wasn't feeling lazy and when y/n would speak to him, he'd focus on her face and nothing more.

now he'd sit down at his desk and do half his english essay and then let his mind wonder back to her. sometimes he'd even grab a polaroid of them off his wall to look at then shove the heel of his palms into his sockets until he saw galaxies and think "she's my best friend." richie didn't care much for his appearance but ever since y/n told him she liked the shirt with the blue palm trees he'd wear it as often as he could and when she spoke to him and she'd wave her hands around he wanted nothing more than to grasp one of them in his own.

another thing she'd do is call him. all. the. time. not that he minded, in fact he often waited for
her to do so. wether she was asking about homework or she just simply wanted to talk to him. there were times when his entire body would go into shock and would almost result in richie having a heart attack when she called him. on a very very rare occasion would he trip over his jeans because he forgot to pull them back up. sometimes he'd get off his bed with a spring in his step and smile and answer with "hey, sweets." and wait for her mellifluous laugh and sometimes he'd just wait for her to say something and when she did he'd thump his head onto the wall. "fucks sake, richie."  and continue the conversation with his friend. his friend.