Richie had always said weddings were for hooking up.
When they were in college, anyways. Before they’d even known anyone who was married, or getting married.
College was…before a lot of things, for Richie specifically. And Eddie realized, as he let himself be pulled against crushed velvet of Richie’s suit, that he couldn’t hold him to any of it.
It should feel weird, the hand on his waist. Knowing what he knows. Shouldn’t it? But the ceremony was long, the vows heavy, and it was nice to give some of his own weight over to Richie for the rest of the evening. That was why he let it be the way that it was. Because he was tired, sometimes, and Richie was there, always. And it wasn’t weird.
“Have you thought about this? Ever?”
The prodding, he couldn’t explain so easily. But Richie never asked, so it was fine.
“What, Ben and Bev’s wedding?” Richie tightened a hand around Eddie’s waste and smiled—sarcastic, teasing. “Once or twice.”
Eddie sighed, adjusting himself in Richie’s arms so his feet shuffled better against the clean tile. He should let it go.
“No,” he huffed, and Richie’s smile widened in question, a pinch in his eyebrows. “For you. I mean, don’t laugh, I know it’s a little…”
The joke catches in his throat by the look on Richie’s face. Soft, but certain. There was a sadness there, he knew. But only because he knew, not because he could see.
“You know that I have,” Richie said.
Eddie looked away, tucking his chin into his own shoulder and watching the crowds move around him, before nodding.
“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah, I do.”
Richie paused, and though it was a thing of small movements slowing gently, Eddie found the stillness jolting—nauseating. Like he was about to be dropped.
“Eddie,” Richie murmured. “I’m sorry, did I—”
“Tell me,” Eddie said, and there was no explaining that one away. “Tell me what you think about.”
Friendship was important to Eddie. On the list of things that were important to Eddie, it ranked number one. Being a good friend to the friends who had been good to him.
So this was…not so familiar to him.
It was different, when he was just letting Richie carry himself that way. That way of being, dazedly, in love with Eddie in all the imaginable ways. It was different when he was letting Richie hit on him because asking Richie to keep his mouth shut about anything was, in and of itself, asking too much. It was different when he found himself kicking aimlessly through another shit relationship and let Richie get frustrated about all the ways he could do better.
I’m sorry, Eddie. He always said sorry. I’m sorry, you know? It’s just that I would never. To you? How could anyone ever…
But asking it out of Richie like this? Indulging in someone else’s wants because, what? He felt bad about himself? And Richie was just there, and it wasn’t weird.
Richie was so there. Smiling a little, looking down at Eddie, and then he started moving again.
“I don’t think about the day so much,” he said after some thought. “Just about…you, and what it would mean to, um. To marry you. Sorry. Is this what you’re asking?”
“You want me to tell you?”
“Eddie.” Richie’s voice sounded strangled. He took a deep breath. “I first thought about marrying you when we were in fourth grade. And I haven’t thought about anybody else since.”
The thing about Richie being in love with Eddie and Eddie knowing about it was that, for five years, that’s all that it was. Eddie didn’t—couldn’t, was his word of choice—feel the same way, so he never did anything more than listen. He certainly never thought about kissing Richie for it.
It was so alarming to him, so out of left field, so unlike anything he’d ever consciously come up with before, that all he could do was dismiss it. Because it was wrong, or it was not right. Not the right way, not for Richie. It was just. It was.
“Not even Michelle in stat?” Eddie joked quietly. “You sure acted like you did.”
Richie threw his head back and laughed. Laughed, and didn’t at all seem to notice the crazed look in Eddie’s eyes, which was how this would go on for another five years.
“No, Eddie,” he said, and adjusted his hand around Eddie’s so their fingers intertwined, because Eddie always let him. Liked it, even. “Just you.”
