the perfect season - chapter 2: like bitter tangerine
pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier
taglist: @girasol-eddie @annoyingtozier @constantreaderfool @notafightr @anellope @bittcrtragcdy @richieshawaiianshirts @cigarette-tozier @richietoziersadhd @mirandonsky
(oops, it’s been uhhhhhh 20 months? but here’s chapter 2 i guess! enjoy if you’re still interested, and feel free to shoot me an ask if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list)
It was the early stages of fall, with leaves crisping and falling, and deep, rich colors blanketing Derry’s roads and lawns. “New England Autumn,” Eddie’s English teacher had called it, sighing and telling the class about falls in California, where the air turned cool but the sky stayed blue and the trees stayed green and the hills stayed gold and the sun shone on.
Maybe it was because he had grown up here, and was used to the turns of the seasons, but Eddie didn’t really care for fall. It almost definitely had to do with the weather (too cold!) and the start of school (upsetting!), and certainly not the fact that fall signalled the approach of the Derry High School Homecoming Dance. Or at least, so he told his friends.
As they walked to school together, as they always did, Richie and Eddie were bundled tightly against the crisp winds. Eddie grumbled as they walked, brows furrowed, kicking at any unfortunate branch or brightly colored leaf that happened to be in his path.
Richie was going on, as per usual, about... the onset of the ubiquity of pumpkin spice flavored products?
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love being stereotyped as a white girl as much as the next white guy. But seriously, how did this happen? When did we all just collectively agree that, starting in September, we all want our shit to smell like pumpkins? You should have heard what my grandma was saying the other day, I-”
Suddenly, Richie stopped, both walking and talking, and blinked. “Oh. Shit. Eds. What’s wrong?” He spun around to face Eddie, quickly scanning his face. “You’re upset. What did I- is it something I said? You shoulda stopped me, you know how I get, I-”
Eddie exhaled in a loud huff, raising a gloved hand to cut Richie off. “Rich. It’s fine. I’m fine, let’s keep walking.” He swivelled back and tried to continue, but Richie’s arm (unfortunately just about eye level for 5’5 Eddie) swung out and promptly whacked him across the face
And, drama queen that he was (and always had been), Eddie felt a blaze of anger rise up inside as he was practically catapulted across the cold pavement three feet behind them, straight onto his ass. “Richard!”
Richie whipped around, face even whiter than usual as six feet of gangly limbs dropped to the ground. “Holy shit Eds I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t mean to I-”
Eddie huffed, and held out his mittened hand to be helped up. “I’m fine. Moron.” Blinking, face still twisted with concern, Richie heaved him to his feet. Eddie sighed. “No, really, I’m fine, you doofus. Stop looking like I punched your cat or something.”
The two began moving walking forward again, but Eddie could practically hear cogs turning in Richie’s brain as he fiddled with his fingerless gloves. “Eddie, I- I didn’t just mean you falling. I mean, I really am sorry. But, like. Something’s bothering you, I can tell. And I totally get it if you don’t want to, or whatever, that’s fine, but. You can talk to me, ya know? I know I’m at rehearsal a lot, and we don’t see each other as much, but I… I’m still your best friend. You know? And you’re mine, right?”
He had stopped walking completely now, eyes wide and earnest as he just about tore his poor gloves apart at the seams. “You know you can tell me anything, right, Eds?”
Whatever feeling of adoration Eddie had been feeling constantly whenever he was around Richie for the past few years suddenly became 30 times more intense, and he felt like he might double over with emotion and affection. “Rich. I know.” He took a deep breath, averting his gaze and breaking eye contact. “You’re my best friend too, dude. Everything’s fine, really. It’s just the weather, you know how much I dislike fall.”
Richie’s mouth opened a little bit in understanding. “Oh… right. Your dad, huh.”
Eddie scuffed the toe of his tennis shoe against the pavement. “Um. Yeah. I know it’s kinda dumb, but the nights get longer, and it gets dark so early, and then if I’m feeling lonely it just, like, amplifies it, you know?” Richie nodded, forehead crinkled in empathy but still (remarkably) silent. “And then… I don’t know.” He was silent for a moment, but Richie still restrained himself from talking, knowing that “open Eddie” only came around rarely, and needed to be encouraged in every way possible.
There’s a companionable silence that happens only in the rarest of circumstances: when two people are driving alone in a car at night, or when they’re walking side by side. Maybe it’s the lack of eye contact, or maybe the illusion of being alone, but those times can act as a catalyst for releasing emotions that have been pent up for far too long. As emotionally stunted as Richie Tozier could be, he recognized that that was what Eddie was experiencing right now, and Richie was terrified to interrupt this rare and precious outpouring of feeling. So, he waited.
Finally, a block and a half later, Eddie spoke again. “Sometimes, I feel like maybe I don’t have the right to be sad about him being gone. My dad, I mean.” Richie blinked. Of all the thoughts that could possibly be shared, he did not expect that particular sentiment.
“I barely remember him, did you know that? I was only like, 6. And I’m sure I was a terrible kid. I mean, you met me! I didn’t exactly make his life easy, I’m sure.” Out of the corner of his vision, Richie could see his friend’s face crumpling, honey-brown eyes filling with an emotion somewhere between shame and guilt. It took everything in him to not reach out and squeeze the smaller teen in a huge, bone-crushing hug, but still he waited.
“Sadness, I can understand. And missing someone. My mom is allowed to feel those things, her soulmate died. But me?” Eddie scoffed. “I’m not really sure I have the right to feel this kind of, like. Bone-deep grief, you know?”
Richie didn’t know. He had been lucky enough to not experience an intense loss, aside from an aunt who passed away when he was about 10. He had worn a button-down shirt for the memorial, and remembered feeling both empathetic towards his sobbing mother, and intensely uncomfortable at such outpouring of emotion towards someone who barely remembered.
Was that what Eddie was feeling, maybe?
“He believed in soulmates, you know.”
Richie blinked, and looked up to see that Eddie was peering at him through slightly damp lashes, having finally broken his intense eye-line with the sidewalk. “My dad. He believed in soulmates.” Richie shivered, feeling the slightest tingle on his pectoral, where his sunflower rested.
“That’s one of my only memories of him. Looking at his tattoo. He would let me trace it, and tell me about soulmates, and tell the story of how he and my mom met.” Eddie huffed a laugh. “It was a huge yellow chrysanthemum, on his… right forearm? I think.” The space between Eddie’s eyebrows crinkled in thought, in that way that always made Richie’s stomach feel a little melty.
“He always described my future soulmate as my ‘perfect complement.’” A wistful smile began to appear on Eddie’s face. “I always thought he meant ‘compliment.’ Like, I imagined my soulmate would just tell me the most wonderful and flattering things all the time. That’s what he did to my mom, at least.” Richie stifled a snort at the image of a taller, older version of Eddie lovingly complimenting a slightly younger Sonia Kaspbrak.
Eddie huffed a laugh at Richie’s lack of subtlety. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I know my mom is, well. The worst.” Richie’s thoughts instantly flashed to the devastating events of his thirteenth summer- when Eddie realized exactly how deep his mother’s desperate need to control her son went. Based on the twist of Eddie’s bow mouth, it seemed as though he was thinking the same thing.
“But they really did love each other, Rich.” He sighed again, gaze wandering to the autumn leaves gently rustling in the wind as they walked. “I just always took it for granted that I would get that, too, ya know? But. I’m seventeen now, and well…”
In a truly rare moment for the two guys, there was silence for a bit. Just the gentle sound of the wind in the trees, and distant cars starting up for their morning commutes. Richie tilted his head thoughtfully as they came around the corner towards the school.
In an uncharacteristically soft voice, Richie finally spoke. “Eds. I think he’s out there for you. I… I don’t know who, or when you’ll meet him. But there’s someone out there who’ll love you unconditionally, and who you’ll love back. I’m…. I’m sure of it.”
Something twisted in Eddie’s gut at that, but he ignored the feeling for the blush creeping over his face. “Thanks, Dick.” Richie snorted.
“Yeah, yeah. C’mon. I can’t be late to first period again or Flanaghan is actually gonna murder me this time.”
It probably shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was. But every member of the Loser’s Club was taken aback when Richie made his announcement in the middle of the quad during lunch later that day.
“Well, lads and lassie,” he drawled, suddenly standing up from the table where they’d been eating lunch and discussing their weekend plans, stretching his bony arms high into the air like he was getting ready for some kind of sport. “It’s time.”
Bev opened her mouth to question him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, but before any of them could say a word, he had bounded to the middle of the concrete outside the cafeteria. Immediately, the eyes of at least a hundred curious high schoolers were on Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier. He was (unfortunately) somewhat infamous to pretty much everyone at Derry High for being a.) loud, b.) crude, c.) hilarious, or d.) all of the above.
But even Eddie Kaspbrak, who probably had a more intimate understanding of what made Richie Tozier tick than anyone else alive, was shocked by what his friend did next.
“Daniel Eric Rodriguez,” Richie shouted, reaching deep into his backpack and fumbling for something. The kid in question, Danny Rodriguez, who Eddie knew as a member of the student council, pushed through the gathered crowd, the sea of sweaty adolescents parting almost biblically. His tan (admittedly handsome) face was a bright shade of crimson as he stepped towards Richie, who seemed to find what he had been looking for in his bag. The Losers Club watched in shock as, with a huge, crooked grin on his freckled face (and what looked like some fear in his eyes?), Richie whipped out a crumpled bouquet of daisies, and held it out towards Danny.
“Danny,” Richie shouted, for the gathered crowd as much as the guy in question. His voice was loud and clear, if a tiny bit strangled, Eddie noticed through his disbelief. “Will you go to homecoming with me?”
With those words, some fragile and wistful thing deep in Eddie’s chest shattered into a thousand pieces. Distantly, he heard Bill murmur “what the fuck,” as the Losers watched Danny carefully take the proffered flowers.
“I…. wow, Rich. Yes! I mean, yes, I’ll go with you.” Cheers and catcalls erupted around the quad, as Richie’s smile grew so wide that a part of Eddie wondered if it hurt. Still in stunned silence, Eddie watched as the two awkwardly hugged, and made their way back to Danny’s friends, speaking in voices he couldn’t hear from this distance.
“Well would ya look at that!” Mike chuckled, pulling Eddie from his shock. “Guess Trashmouth’s not all talk, for once.” Stan grinned a wry smile, although Eddie could see something slightly melancholy in his hazel eyes, noting the way his gaze quickly flicked to the resident hypochondriac before responding to Mike.
“Guess so. Bev, did you know about this?” Bev smiled, although like Stan, there seemed to be something slightly forced present.
“He did mention that he was going to ask someone, but he didn’t say who. I…. I’m as shocked as you guys. I didn’t even know he and Danny were friends. Or that Danny was into guys, let alone our guy.” The group all continue to watch Richie and Danny’s conversation from afar, their friend’s face approaching crimson as he gesticulated wildly, that almost-manic smile still present. They couldn’t quite make out his words from this far away, but the whole group of student council kids suddenly burst into laughter, Danny beaming back at Richie as he put a (large! attractive! noted Eddie) hand on his shoulder.
“He is pretty good looking though,” Mike added, eyebrows raised in appreciation. “He’s on the water polo team, right? Look at those shoulders, man.”
“His earlobes are huge,” murmured Bill. Stan cough snorted at that, covering his mouth with his hand, as Bev bit back a smile. “What!?” Bill demanded. “Am I wrong?”
Eddie scrutinized him carefully, watching as Danny turned to speak to the girl next to him, revealing- “Holy shit!” Eddie laughed. “Bill’s right, look at those things!”
“Edward!” Bev smacked him lightly. “Rude!” But Eddie noticed that the others were smirking as well.
Ben schooled his face into a diplomatic neutral expression. “But he seems happy, and that’s what matters.”
Something scrabbled in Eddie’s gut at that. “Right. You’re right, Ben.”
But as the week went on, the feeling only grew. Danny was gay, Richie explained to him, and they had bonded in their stats class. “He’s a riot, Eds! Not as funny as me, of course, but we get our chucks for sure.” Eddie did what he had done for years- rolled his eyes, tried to ignore most of Richie’s jokes, and kept walking to school with him each morning.
On the Friday night before the dance, though, Eddie finally broke. The Losers had postponed their weekly movie night because of Homecoming, and had instead hung out at Bev’s aunt’s for a couple hours instead, getting some weekend homework done early. It was all the usual: sprawling over every available surface, listening to the music taste of whoever had hijacked the aux that day, and munching on snacks (and periodically throwing said snacks at each other). As the afternoon wore on, the others left one by one, until it was finally just Bev and Eddie left, both curled up on the worn velvet couch with textbooks long neglected on the floor next to them.
Both were hunched over Bev’s phone, as she scrolled through pics of the dress she and her aunt had picked out weeks before. “And this is the one I almost went with,” she said, showing a dark purple gown, tulle puffing out the mid-length skirt. “But I really do like this one better! I think it suits my skin tone, don’t you think.” Eddie leaned in, appreciatively humming as he examined the way the flowy, aquamarine dress hugged his friend’s curves.
“Absolutely the right choice,” he said confidently. “I mean, you’d look gorgeous either way, but that teal really is your color... Ben’s gonna love it,” Eddie added slyly, elbowing her in the ribs with a grin.
Beverly elbowed him right back, but he could see his words had an effect- her face was immediately pink, the starry look she reserved only for her soulmate shining from her blue eyes. “You really think so?”
Eddie snorted. “Bev-bev, the only person I’ve ever seen more disgustingly head over heels for their S/O than you is Ben. The man would murder for you, then immediately cuddle you and ask if you’re okay.” She blushed even deeper.
“Okay. I’m… I don’t know, just a little nervous, I guess. It’s gonna be the first time I’ve gone to a dance with a partner, and not just with y’all. We’re all pairing up this year!” Eddie’s face fell.
“Oh! Except, except for you, of course, Eddie.” She scrambled to take back her words. “I know we all have partners, but we’re still all going as friends! Because we are! It’ll just be-”
“Different.” Eddie finished flatly. “Yeah. I know.” He examined his cuticles, turning his hands over as he avoided eye contact with his friends. “I’ve been thinking about it, and. Well. I think I’m just gonna hang out at home this year. You know, catch up on some TV. Or something.”
Bev made a sound of indignation at that, snatching his hands in her own and forcing his gaze to hers. “Edward! What are you talking about? You can’t miss the dance! I love Ben to bits, but if you’re not there, who will dance stupidly with me and scream when ‘Toxic’ comes on? Or ‘Party in the USA’?”
Eddie grinned wryly at that. “Richie will.”
Bev chuckled softly. “Okay, yes, maybe he will. But he’ll be caught up with his boytoy, you know it won’t be the same!” At the mention of Danny, Eddie felt the familiar falling sensation in his chest. His face must have shown it too, because Bev’s mouth suddenly opened, breathing out a soft “ohhhhh” of understanding. “That’s it, isn’t it. It’s Richie. Or, well, Richie and… Danny.”
Eddie swallowed hard, forcing himself to make eye contact with one of his best friends. He tried to smile, to brush it off, but the second he met her gaze, he felt his lower lip start to tremble. Bev’s face instantly lit up with alarm, ginger brows crinkling in concern as she reached out to him.
“I just…” God damnit he was crying now. He furiously scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, willing himself to pull it together. “Bev, I really really like him.” Despite his best efforts, he could feel tears dripping from his chin and onto his lap. “I like him so much it physically hurts sometimes, and I don’t know what to do with myself.” He wrung his hands in his lap, trying to ignore her sympathetic gaze. “When I saw his flower, I… I let myself hope, ya know? We both have just the one, and we’ve been so close for so long, and, my flowers, they,” Eddie drew in a deep and shuddering breath. “Wisteria can symbolize long lives and long love and I just,” his voice broke on the word ‘love,’ and he flung himself forward into his friend’s arms. He could feel her gently rubbing his back, and stroking a hand through his hair, French manicured nails lightly scraping his scalp.
“Oh, Ed,” she murmured, squeezing him tightly. “I know.” He squeezed back, giving back on trying to emote with words. “I know.”
The next evening rolled around, and (unsurprisingly), Eddie was there. When the Losers took a pre-dinner selfie outside Bev’s aunt’s (the designated ‘get ready’ house), he found himself sandwiched between a beautifully made-up, beaming Bev, and Richie, his long dark curls slicked back in a way that looked truly horrendous. But no one wanted to tell the resident comedian that- he had been in a truly rare form all night, even for him. He practically bounced off the walls, ricocheting from topic to topic with a massive grin on his face, tossing out bad jokes and curses at a mile a minute.
Perhaps this was him super excited, Eddie supposed? We’ve never seen him this happy before, a nasty voice in the back of his head muttered. You’ve never made him this happy. He visibly shivered, trying to forget his “personal issues,” as he had somewhat dismissively labelled the topic. Eddie’s jealousy (sadness?) was his problem, and his problem alone. Richie didn’t deserve to have to put up with it, especially when he was in such an ebullient mood.
So, Eddie bit back every comment, every joke he would typically make to his best friend. He didn’t say a word through dinner, through pictures, through the ride to the dance in the limo Danny’s dad had rented. When Danny and Richie posed for a (mildly awkward) couples portrait, and Bev cooed, and Eddie felt like the world was crumbling around them in the gym lobby, he just pinched his thumb and index finger together as hard as he could, and forced a smile onto his face. When “Low” came on, and Danny threw his head back in laughter as Richie flopped dramatically on the floor, Eddie laughed hollowly, and tried to ignore the concerned looks Stan periodically shot his way.
Stop it! Eddie reprimanded himself internally, as the group took a break outside to grab some water from the drinking fountain. If you’re really a friend, if you care about him at all, you should be happy! Your best friend is happy! Why can’t you just stop being selfish and be happy for him?
And it was true, Richie did seem happy. They both did. They laughed at each other’s jokes, and held each other gently during the obligatory slow-dance, and Eddie did appreciate the way he checked in with Richie constantly, even as he went to dance with his own student council friends for a bit. No matter what else was going on between Danny & Richie, they seemed to care about each other, and that was what mattered.
Maybe Danny’s his sunflower. Eddie couldn’t help the thought from crashing through his brain. But instead of feeling like he might cry, or like he was crumbling, or like the world was ending at the thought… Eddie just felt numb.
“Alrighty then!” Richie bellowed suddenly, startling Eddie from his thoughts with a passable imitation of Jim Carrey. “Smoke break for Dick, boys and girl!” Mike rolled his eyes, and Danny chuckled, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Hey Rich,” Danny spoke, in his soothing mellow baritone, “I gotta go to the bathroom. Meet y’all back here in 5?”
Richie beamed back at him. “Of course, Danny Boy!” His attention suddenly swivelled to Eddie, who suddenly felt bare and self-conscious, to be thinking the thoughts he was with his friend so close by. “Eds, you’re coming with?”
It was a bold and confident statement, as most things Richie said were, but it was phrased as a question, with an undercurrent of an emotion Eddie took a moment to recognize. As he met his friend’s warm chocolatey gaze, he recognized a flicker of concern. Richie was… worried about him? Had he not been subtle enough? A quick flash of panic overcame Eddie, but he shoved it down and smiled snarkily back in what he hoped was some semblance of normalcy. “Sure thing, Rich.”
The two wandered around the backside of the gym, far enough away from the main entrance that they could barely hear the hubbub of students, and the dimly lit tennis courts were visible across the way. Richie collapsed onto the concrete steps with a flounce, and Eddie followed, watching as the taller of the two pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between his teeth. He had given up trying to convince Richie to quit years before, but he usually couldn’t help the wrinkle of his nose when he smelled it. Somehow, though, tonight it didn’t bother him so much.
They sat in silence as Richie lit up with his Zippo, and exhaled blueish smoke into the unseasonably warm November night.
“You’re quiet tonight, Eds.” Richie’s raspy voice was unusually soft, but he didn’t make eye contacts, opting to watch his cigarette smolder instead. “What’s goin’ on?”
Eddie huffed quietly, hugging his dress-slacked-knees to himself. “Great question.”
Richie turned to face him at that. Forcing himself to look up, Eddie met his gaze to find his friend’s eyes filled with- blatant concern?
“Eddie, I’m serious. What’s going on? Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’ve been practically silent all night.” Eddie bit down on his lip, weighing his options. Friends deserve honesty, he knows that. But friends also deserve to live their lives and be happy, and not be weighed down by their friend’s unrequited crush.
He took a deep breath. “Can we talk about something else?”
Richie blinked once. Then, he nodded slowly, taking another puff. “Sure, Eddie.”
Eddie swallowed, hard. “Thanks.”
Richie was silent another moment, and when he spoke, it was much softer than his typical speaking voice. “I told my parents.”
Eddie swivelled to face him, eyes wide. “You-”
“I told them,” Richie nodded, a wry grin on his face. “I was bi. That I liked guys, whatever. That’s the part my dad is most stuck on, to be honest. My mom was mostly fine with it- I think she was a little surprised, but she just thanked me for telling her. But the old man…” He stopped to take a long, slow puff on his cigarette. “I’m not so sure.”
“Richie, I… I’m proud of you.” And he was. His best friend smiled back at him, a genuine, soft (if sad) smile.
“Thanks, Eds. At least they responded better than your mom.” Eddie snorted derisively at the mention of Sonia’s homophobia. “Or Danny’s parents.” And his heart stopped.
“Don’t tell anyone, obviously. But,” Richie looked down, twiddling the cig between his long, bony fingers. “They’re pretty mad. They seriously suck. When I went into Danny’s earlier, to pick him u?,” Eddie recalled the 10 minutes the others had waited in the limo outside the Rodriguez’ house, nodding. “That’s when he told them.”
Gears began to turn in Eddie’s mind. “So he wanted you there?” Richie, still avoiding eye contact, nodded.
“That’s kinda the whole reason I asked him?” he said, quickly and under his breath. And with that, something flipped in Eddie’s brain.
Richie chuckled lowly. “Yeah. I mean, me and Danny are friends and all. But I think I’m the first, like, socially-out person he’d ever really talked with. So when we started talking in class, and realized we both still needed to, well. Come out to our families. We…kinda made a plan.”
“I’m okay with who I am as a person! I’m even proud of it, I guess. But telling my folks?” He hissed a breath through his teeth. “Even my big ol’ loud mouth has some things that are hard to get out.”
Eddie blinked slowly, trying to understand. “So you and Danny…”
All of the air rushed out of Eddie’s lungs in an audible sigh of relief, that he quickly tried to cover up with a cough. Richie quickly moved his cigarette behind him, stubbing it out on the rough concrete. The seemingly un-conscious thoughtfulness had Eddie’s face warming, his expression thankfully hidden by the dark night as Richie continued.
“It’s kinda like… the opposite of having a beard? We’re both into guys, and wanted a convenient way to tell our families. So, I asked him to the dance. It was still kind of a surprise, since we hadn’t officially planned out the details yet, and I made it clear that I definitely don’t like him like that, but. I don’t know. I think it worked. And I think he’s happy tonight, too.” Richie leaned forward onto his clasped hands, elbows propped on his bent knees. “I know he likes his friends, and they seem cool! But I definitely know how hard it is to keep a part of yourself under wraps for so long. Dunno. It’s good for him, hanging out with us losers, I think.”
Eddie felt a flare of protective pride surge in his chest. Eyes locked on his friend, he scooched closer, and quickly leaned in and hugged Richie tight.
He felt the taller boy start, but then lean into the awkward sideways hug. “O-ho, what’s this for, Eddie boy?” Eddie snorted at the feeble attempt at a Voice. “It’s a hug, asshole.” Letting go of the hug, Richie leaned back blinking owlishly through his glasses.
Eddie smiled softly, hoping his feelings weren’t blatantly visible on his face. “For being a good friend, doofus. Danny’s lucky to have you.”
Richie blushed slightly, adjusting his glasses. “Well, geez, Eds. Thanks.”
And so am I, he added silently as they made their way back to the gym.
Hours later, after more dancing and snacks and sneaky swigs of the flask Bill had in his suit jacket, Eddie finally collapsed into his bed at home. The others had wanted to head to an after-party hosted by some guy Danny knew at water polo, but Eddie knew he had already pushed his luck with Sonia by being out so late. So, he had headed home.
Safely in his room, suit and shirt and tie all discarded on his dresser, Eddie laid back on his dark blue comforter. His mind was just hazy enough from the bottom-shelf vodka, and his mind felt electrified by what he had learned that night. He was pretty sure it was physically impossible to smile any wider than he already was, as he replayed each moment of the night over and over again in his mind.
Eddie’s arms around Richie. Richie hugging back. The smile Richie gave when he said he was a good friend. The way Rich had grabbed his hands in an iron-clad grip and swung him around and around when “Single Ladies” came on, a huge and manic smile on his face. The kindness in his best friend’s eyes as he talked with Danny, and the stars twinkling in the sky as he spent the night with his best friends in the whole wide world.
Before long, Eddie was drifting off into a blissful (and somewhat drunken) sleep, warm contentment pulling down every limb.
It wasn’t until the next morning that he realized precisely what those feelings meant. As he sleepily brushed his teeth, Eddie tried to ignore the faint headache, and the tingling on his collarbones that whispered something has changed, something’s different.
Then, as he pulled off his nightshirt, glancing in the mirror, he saw them. Curling and winding along his chest, dangling from clavicle to nearly the bottom of his ribs, hung long stalks of dusky blue wisteria, full and heavy with delicate feathery blooms. Well, thought Eddie, shit.
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