Richie Tozier likes to hold hands.
summary — the three times richie and eddie hold hands, and the one time they talk about it.
warnings — implied homophobia
The first time it happened was in Richie Tozier’s first year of highschool. He could not remember the details — even if he tried to. What he could remember was the sun shining brightly onto his shorter friend’s freckled face, forcing pretty shadows onto his cheeks. Richie’s fingers drumming nervously on his jean-covered thigh while his other hand scribbled meaningless words onto his work book.
“Relax, Rich. It’s just homework,” Eddie muttered, their shoulders bumping nonchalantly while their backs were leaning against the back wall of the overcrowded highschool. “Do you need help?”
Richie stared at the english questions neatly written in black ink with a frown sewn into his sorrow features. “I didn’t- I didn’t even read the fucking book!” He blurts, chucking the homework onto the grass beneath their feet in frustration. Eddie sighed, his brown eyes noticing Richie’s drumming fingers.
“Stop that,” He muttered, Richie took no notice in his wishes. “Come on, Rich. You’re just being anxious, it’s not a big deal…”
Ignoring Eddie, he slipped his glasses off his face; rubbing his free fingers into the brown eyes hidden underneath the thick frames. “You can copy mine, if you promise to do the work next time.”
A smile blossomed on Richard Tozier’s face, Eddie’s heart swelling at the beaming sight. Unfortunately, his fingers continued drumming— which meant he was still nervous, it was a habit that Eddie picked up on during January. “That’s not what you’re really nervous about… is it?”
Hesitantly, Richie shrugged. The small action causing Eddie to grab his drumming hand and press their palms together, their fingers entwining easily despite without any practice. Richie stared at their joined hands. “What’s really wrong, Richie?”
“That’s okay, so do I.” Subconsciously, Richie tightened his grip on Eddie’s soft, sanitizer hands. “Everyone’ll still love you, promise.”
The second time it happens is a freezing day during the winter months, Eddie Kaspbrak sits in Richie’s messy bedroom — silently admiring the countless posters hung on each wall, the various CDs laid in the corner with precision and care, even the porn magazines hidden beneath his unmade bed made Eddie feel something new in his heart. Everything in that heated bedroom was so Richie Tozier, and it make complete sense.
Yells downstairs filled Eddie’s ears, cautiously, he looked to Richie who was typing rapidly on his phone; apparently unfazed by the screams from the Tozier parents. “Who ya’ texting?”
“Beverly,” Richie muttered halfheartedly, not looking up to meet the boy’s saddened gaze. “She wants to come over later. You cool with that?”
Eddie furrows his brows in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Do you like Beverly?” He’s blurting the words without thinking, and his cheeks turn a deep maroon which in any other scenario, Richie would have called adorable. Instead of the sweet pinches or exclamations of ‘Cute, cute, cute!’ Richie looks at him in horror. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me or anything. It’s just you hang out with her a lot now and—“
“I definitely don’t like Beverly,” Richie confirms with a high-pitched laugh. Eddie nods, oblivious to the way the dark-haired teenager was moving closer to him in the most nonchalant way possible. “Do you… uhm, like anyone?”
“Not really, don’t see the point in risking my heart for an unrequited love.”
Richie tilts his head, bumping their knees together at the end of the bed. “How do you know it’d be unrequited?”
The smaller boy shrugs sadly, his fingers on his thighs as he stared at his lap to avoid the pitiful gaze of his best friend, “No boy would ever like me Richie, what could they possibly find attractive about a short asthmatic idiot?”
Slowly, Richie rests his hand atop of Eddie’s. Neither move. “I think there’s more to you than being short and asthmatic.”
Eddie giggles shyly, another red colour lacing itself into his cheeks as Richie mingles their fingers together properly; much like how they had the first time. Perfect, yet so unprepared. “Thank you, Richie Tozier,” Eddie mutters.
Richie smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to the boy’s embarrassed cheeks. The usual tan colour only goes redder, as though his lips burned the skin in the sweetest way possible. “By the way, you’re definitely not an idiot Eddie Kaspbrak.”
It was a week after their talk of crushes when Richie Tozier was kicked out of his home. The sixteen-year-old stared at the smirking door after it was closed in his face, his too-small of a bag swaying in his left hand. All he wanted to do was curl up and cry.
His mother, Maggie Tozier, was a traditional sort of lady. Her remarkable dresses, and pretty sentences were something her son had always looked up to when he was younger; but as he stands outside his old house with the raindrops landing on his curly hair, he can’t help but think of how much a terrible mother she truly was.
The woman had always showed disgust towards homosexuality, which had been why Richie was so anxious to tell Eddie back in grade seven. His father, Wentworth, was much more passive through it all; but when things go downhill— he shall always choose his wife over Richie. It was the way their family worked, Richie and Maggie argued? Wentworth on her side. Richie doesn’t come home over the weekend? Wentworth shall ground him because Maggie is too drunk to do so herself. It was the way their family worked.
Until, maybe Richie wasn’t in the family anymore. His mother, with her stupid traditional parenting styles, decided to snoop through Richie’s phone while he was sleeping only to find the countless messages send to Eddie and other past boys and maybe even some dirty talk. That was how he ended up kicked out of his own home, if you’d even call it that at this point.
“E-Eds?” Richie whispered through the phone, his cheeks wet with unnoticed tears. “Can you- Can you come pick me up? Please?” He squeaked, his clothes becoming more than damp from the angry clouds above him.
Eddie agreed immediately, showing up outside of the Tozier Residence with his mother’s abandoned car not even five minutes after. “Richie!” He called, jumping out of the vehicle without a second thought; despite Sonia’s voice in his mind begging him to not risk a cold. “Holy shit, what happened?”
Without even thinking too much of it, he grabbed Richie’s freezing hand and dragged him into the passenger seat of the car without any hesitance. When he got back into the driver’s seat, he linked their fingers once again. Richie halfheartedly circling his thumb in circles around Eddie’s palm.
“She- she kicked me out—“ a sob curses throughout his lanky body, more tears flowing past his pale face. Eddie almost wants to cry with him. “I-I don’t have anywhere else to-to stay!”
The smaller boy blinks away his own tears, reaching his other hand to Richie’s other one of his own. And there they sat, the sky crying just as much as Richie with both their hands together like a massive puzzle finally completed.
“Why the fuck do you guys always do that?”
Richie and Eddie pull their attention away from each other to meet a certain redhead’s passionate eyes. Her lips are pulled into a tight streak of gloss, and her eyes seem more blue than usual. Both the boy’s cheeks flush. “Do what, Bev?” Richie inquires obliviously.
Beverly points to their touching shoulders, and the way Richie’s hand is casually sitting on Eddie’ exposed thigh. There’s no reason to be sitting so close, there’s plenty of space on their side of the booth. Well, maybe there is a reason.
“We just like platonic affection,” Eddie mutters awkwardly, his freckled cheeks still red. Beverly rolls her eyes playfully, and Richie keeps his serious face on. “Seriously! I mean, we’re friends. Is that so bad?”
A ludicrous laugh escapes her glossy lips, their cheeks go even redder. “Okay, if you’re just friends— kiss.”
Both of them gape at the suggestion. Truthfully, Richie Tozier dreams of meeting Eddie’s lips with his own; but just as the opposite boy said, friends. Friends don’t kiss. “Why would we do that?”
“Because you’re just friends, right? To prove there’s no romantic feelings. It’s just a kiss, nothing should change if—“
In a swift motion, Eddie grabs the taller boy’s chin, turning his head in the process to press the lightest of kisses on his mouth. Richie thinks he might be blushing from his toes to the back of his neck. “See? Friends,” He squeaks, unconvincingly.
Beverly giggles, pushing her body up from the table with her hands. “Whatever you say, boys.”
She leaves, and the two are left alone.
“You didn’t actually have to kiss me, you know… we don’t need to prove anything,” Richie says after an uncomfortable amount of silence. “I hope you didn’t feel pressured or anything,” he adds as an afterthought.
Eddie’s face falls as he stares at Richie. “You really didn’t want to kiss me, then? I just thought… never mind.” Richie is not the only one who dreams of their best friends lips.
“No, tell me. Please, Eds. I won’t- I won’t laugh.”
The smaller boy shifts away from Richie, avoiding his taunting yet soft stare. “Maybe she’s right. I mean, why do we sit so close all the time? Why do we hold hands? Why- why do we always hang out alone even if the others are free? I mean, I don’t know. Like I said when we were sixteen, unrequited crushes. This is why I don’t—“
Richie kisses him again. It quiets him immediately.
“We do all that because maybe we aren’t just friends, Eds,” he admits quietly, smiling as Eddie kisses him a third time and at that moment, Richie Tozier realises he likes holding hands — specifically Eddie’s. But he enjoys kissing him much, much more.