[Eddie looks like he's going to cry, and like usual, Richie gets stupid impulses, like wanting to put a thumb under his eye, only now, for the first time in his whole fucking life, for the years that he's been this way, he thinks maybe it would be alright if he did.

(He doesn't because he's not there yet. But entertaining the thought is wild enough.)

Richie snorts, a loud, gross sound, and then shakes his head. He ends up eyes locked with Eddie's again, like magnets pull him back.]

No fucking shit, Eds. No, I loved that part, the horrified look on your face was the highlight of the experience for me, personally.

[He can joke about it, because he thinks he gets that now, the fear, because Eddie is the same as him, felt the same way he did, and god, Richie must have looked just as terribly stunned, huh? No wonder this fell apart so easily.

No jokes spring as quickly to mind when Eddie next speaks, though. Instead Richie is painfully aware of how his face just sort of morphs into a dopey, open mouthed grin as the words hit him, right in the chest. He's actually quiet for a second, awed and completely overcome. Happy. Fuck, he's happy.

He's scared, too.]

Me too. Me too. About you, obviously, I don't- I'm not like the Narcissus of the spheres, fawning over my own reflection, I-

[Eddie was brave. He can be too. It's only a fraction of the truth, really.]

Yeah. I like you.