No One But You ✔️ Reddie

Six

Richie was in the arcade playing Street Fighter with Stan. Mike was working at the farm. Ben and Bill were together, mourning the loss of Bev to her aunt's house. For some reason, she hadn't written back to their letters. So, Eddie was at home alone, again.

He'd tried calling Richie's house, but his mom always said he was in the shower. He'd tried knocking on Richie's door, but his dad always said he wasn't in. He'd tried wandering around Richie's usual haunts, but on the rare occasion that he saw Richie, Richie pretended not to notice him and walked away. If he tried to join Stan and Richie at the arcade, Richie would find an excuse not to go.

When the losers went to the clubhouse, Eddie would holler, 'Ten minutes are up!' and Richie would mildly protest, then climb out of his own volition. Richie didn't make your mom jokes at Eddie's expense anymore. He didn't get ice cream for Eddie anymore. Worst of all, he always called him Eddie.

He wanted to talk to someone about what happened, but there was only one person who he knew he could safely talk to, and that person was making every concerted effort to avoid him. Eddie kicked at the skirting boards of his bedroom and cried, again. He kept hoping that if he willed it enough, Richie would come back to him.

He breathed deeply. He just had to keep trying. Richie couldn't stay away from him forever. He needed to see him, needed to tell him that everything was okay, needed to find out what the kiss would have meant. He rubbed the stains from his cheeks and tottered downstairs, pulling on his sneakers and heading out the door.

Richie lost to Stan at Street Fighter. Stan whooped and thwacked him on the back, 'I think that's the first time I've ever beaten you.'

'Only because you fucking cheated,' Richie grumbled.

'How did I fucking cheat?' Stan guffawed. 'Just admit you lost, man.'

Richie didn't answer him, just went to the token machine and exchanged another quarter. It came out, clean and shining and gold. He thought about the time he'd been here with Bowers' cousin and shuddered. He'd been accused of something true, and now Eddie knew not only that truth, but that Richie wanted to kiss him. He felt sick. Every time he saw Eddie, he felt that same nausea.

Stan came up behind him, 'Let's not go again right away. I could use some air.'

Richie rolled his eyes. 'You just don't want to play again in case you lose.' He followed Stan out into the streets where they found a bench to sit down.

Stan drummed his fingers on his knees. 'Are you gonna talk about it, or do I have to ask?' he said impatiently.

'What?' Richie shrugged.

Rolling his eyes, Stan spluttered, 'You've been miserable for weeks and you've been acting really weird. Weirdest of all, where the fuck is Eddie? I feel like I never see you two together anymore, somehow not even when we're all hanging out as a group.'

Richie couldn't tell him the truth. He couldn't tell him how hopelessly in love with Eddie he was, had always been. He couldn't tell him how much it ached when he saw him, how all that flooded his brain was the image of Eddie's fear when he had leaned in. It reminded him of the time when Richie had offered to snap his arm back into place, when Eddie had screamed: 'Do not fucking touch me!'

It didn't matter that Eddie followed him around and tried to track him down, didn't matter that Eddie hadn't told anyone, didn't matter that clearly Eddie didn't really care about him liking boys, because as hard as it was to keep Eddie at arm's length, he knew it would be harder to have Eddie actually say the words: 'I don't think of you like that. We're friends, but that's all. I want everything to go back to how it was before.'