Chapter Text
“I don’t even know this band,” Eddie said for the umpteenth time that night as they walked the streets of Derry. Mike, his long-term best friend, had invited him to a local dive bar where a band that he couldn’t even remember the name of was performing that night. Mike had told him all about them, how they were from Maine -- maybe Bangor or Castle Rock -- and travelled around the state performing wherever they could get a gig.
“That’s okay,” Mike answered, his hand in Eddie’s as he led him through the door into the bar. There were quite a few people there, but not so many that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had space around him, besides where Mike was holding his hand, and the music wasn’t obnoxiously loud. It wasn’t a club by any means, though that had been what Eddie was expecting. He was led directly to the bar and he allowed Mike to order for him as he looked around. There were a few people dancing, a few sat at the bar on tall stools as they drank, groups sat in booths lining the walls, and Eddie even saw a girl in some guy’s lap making out like they would never be able to touch another person again.
He wondered if they knew each other or if they’d just met.
He wondered if that even mattered.
“Here,” Mike said as he handed him a small glass. He took it and looked down at it for a moment.
“What is this?” He asked, brows furrowing as he looked at him again.
“A drink. To help you loosen up a bit,” he smiled, downing his own drink in one gulp. “We’ve got a bit before they go on. Breathe a little, babe.” He used these pet names with him, but neither one of them could ever imagine a relationship with the other. They had been friends for so long and Mike had cared for him in ways he’d never had someone care for him before, so the pet names came naturally.
Truthfully, Eddie didn’t mind. Jake never called him any pet names anymore and he had always thought they were cute. Even if it was only his friend saying them, he would take what he could get. He took a deep breath and looked around the room, then decided fuck it and downed his drink as well. He winced, nearly spitting it back out as Mike laughed.
“What the fuck was that?” He coughed, looking at him through squinted eyes. “It tasted like liquid fire, Mike, what the fuck?”
“Vodka and sprite,” he answered with a smile. “It’ll go away soon, Eddie, just keep breathing.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and looked up at the small stage where the band would soon be playing. There was already a man up there setting up his drum set from what Eddie could tell, but he couldn’t see him very well. “Stan said he might drop by.”
“Did he?” Eddie asked somewhat distractedly. He could never imagine Stan coming to a bar as shady as this one. It smelled vaguely like weed and more noticeably like alcohol and sweat. Stan would probably hate it. Mike, ever the observant one, noticed that Eddie’s mind was elsewhere and gently tapped his shoulder to get his attention again. “Hm?” He hummed, looking at him once more.
“Where’d you go?” He asked, amusement dancing behind his eyes. Eddie shook his head.
“Nowhere,” he said, forcing a small smile on his lips. “I actually need to go to the bathroom.” He set his empty glass down on the bar and Mike’s brows furrowed. He knew Eddie better than this, and he knew that, but he needed to breathe a little bit somewhere away from the crowd and away from the music. He pointed him in the direction, and off he went toward the bathroom.
Once he was in there, the blast of cool air was welcomed. It was a few degrees cooler in there due to the tile and the fact that it was empty, unlike the actual bar. The lighting was harsh, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes as he leaned against the wall and let the coolness calm him down. Once he felt like his heart wasn’t going to burst out of his chest, he opened his eyes and pushed himself off of the wall. He could practically feel the bacteria crawling on him from the dirty wall, so he walked toward the sink and rolled up his sleeves far enough that he was sure they wouldn’t get wet. He turned on the water, piled soap in his hand, and began scrubbing all the way up to his elbows.
“Do you hold your dick with your forearms or something?” He heard a voice ask from beside him. He jumped, inhaling sharply as he turned to look at who was speaking.
He wasn’t disappointed.
The man beside him was taller than him with curls that nearly brushed the tops of his shoulders. They were wild, sticking up every which way but somehow he pulled it off. There were freckles over his cheeks and nose, which gave him an almost innocent look, even though - by the looks of him - that would be the last word Eddie would use to describe him. He looked like every guy that Eddie ever hated, but he also somehow looked just like Eddie’s type. One corner of his lips was pulled up into a small smirk, which only seemed to grow when Eddie didn’t answer.
“What?” He asked. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands that were still under the running water instead of at Richie, cheeks a light pink as he turned off the water and pulled out some paper towels to dry himself off.
“You were washing your entire arm,” the man beside him chuckled, and Eddie glared in hopes of making his blush go down with a little bit of anger. It didn’t work.
“These bathrooms are filthy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Excuse me if I want to be clean after walking out of here.”
Richie raised his hands in surrender, but breathed out a small laugh that told Eddie he was still way too amused about this whole situation. He shoved his sleeves down with a huff, bottom lip poking out just a little.
“Hey, that’s your prerogative,” Richie responded, starting the water in the sink next to Eddie and beginning to wash his hands, though not as intensely as Eddie had been doing just moments before. “You here to watch the band perform?” He asked.
Eddie was ready to go back out to Mike. He knew him, he didn’t have to worry about small talk, and he wouldn’t make fun of him for washing his arms all the way up to his elbows.
“Yeah, kinda,” he responded, using the nail on his pointer finger to pick at the skin on the side of his thumb, a nervous habit he’d never been able to get rid of. “I’ve never really heard of the band, but my friend… he’s a fan, I guess? I don’t really remember him listening to them, but… he’s the one who dragged me here, so,” he shrugged a shoulder, letting his sentence trail off. Richie was already drying his hands with a paper towel, never taking his eyes off of Eddie. This only served to make the smaller boy more anxious, causing him to take a small step back and look just to the right of Richie’s face so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact anymore.
“He’s got good taste,” Richie smiled like he knew something Eddie didn’t, which made him frown. “What’s your name?”
“My name?” Eddie asked, blinking once as he looked at Richie once again. The taller man nodded and Eddie was almost pleased to note that it wasn’t the nod he usually got -- the get on with it, I’ve got better things to do nod -- but one that was almost encouraging. Kind. “Eddie,” he finally answered, smiling just a little bit up at him.
“I’m Richie.” He reached out a hand for Eddie to shake. Eddie quickly weighed the pros and cons. He usually made it a habit to avoid shaking anyone’s hand because he wasn’t sure if they were diseased or if they’d washed their hands after the last time they went to the bathroom or if they would be sweaty or hold his hand too tight, but --
Something outweighed those cons in Eddie’s mind. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he reached out and clasped Richie’s hand in his own, giving it a small shake. Richie didn’t grip his hand too tightly, and he’d just seen him wash his hands, and his hands weren’t sweaty but they were pleasantly warm and --
Eddie let go with a blush.
“Nice to meet you,” he almost whispered. Richie’s answering smile was almost blinding.
“You too, Eddie Spaghetti.”
“That’s not my name,” Eddie mumbled, glaring up at him. Richie had been doing so well, but then he’d started with the nicknames and now Eddie was pretty sure he was just as annoying as he’d originally thought, especially when he started laughing.
“What, you don’t like Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie asked, and Eddie shook his head. “Well, why don’t you give me your number and we can talk about what I can call you?”
Oh.
Oh.
Eddie knew he should tell Richie no, that he had a boyfriend that he’d been with for almost six months now, but he didn’t see the harm in having a friend. Besides, for all Eddie knew, Richie was straight and just wanted to be friends. Eddie really didn’t see an issue.
“I’ll give you my number if you promise not to call me Eddie Spaghetti ever again,” Eddie bargained.
Richie inhaled through his teeth.
“‘Fraid I can’t promise that,” he said. “I think the name might stick around for a while.”
Eddie gave him his number anyway.
When he walked back out to Mike, he asked him what took him so long and why he was smiling like that, but he just shook his head and ordered himself the next drink.
“Long story. I’ll tell you later,” he promised him because he knew there was no way he would get away with not telling him what happened. This seemed to quell him curiosity for the time being. The bartender had just set Eddie’s drink in front of him when Mike checked the time on his phone and grabbed Eddie’s hand again.
“Come on, the band’s about to start,” he said, already pulling him toward the stage. Eddie laughed and quickly downed the shot once more before he set the glass down on the bar and finally allowed Mike to drag him up to the front. More people had arrived while he had been in the bathroom, it seemed, because they had to do some pushing in order to get to their spots by the stage.
“Jesus, Mike, how popular did you say they were?” Eddie had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. It was louder up here since they were standing closer to the speakers, and Eddie already knew he’d have a headache in the morning.
“Pretty popular around here,” Mike answered, also having to speak up. “Not popular enough to perform anywhere other than a few bars, but popular enough that they can bring a small crowd with them.”
Eddie nodded his head, opening his mouth to ask Mike what exactly this band’s name was (because he didn’t know, he couldn’t remember, and he’d already told him three times that night) when he saw it printed on the drum set. Orion’s Belt, was printed on there in white with three dots spread evenly above it, which Eddie supposed was meant to be Orion’s Belt. He laughed lightly, wondering whose idea that was.
The music stopped and there was a man’s voice coming over the speakers, speaking louder than necessary to introduce the band. Eddie didn’t hear any of the band members’ names or where they were from because he didn’t think that was something he needed to know in order to enjoy the music. He soon wished he had listened because out came a woman who stood behind the keyboard, one man sat behind the drums, and one came out with a guitar.
The last one -- the one with the guitar -- came out and Eddie thought his heart stopped. He knew that face. He knew it because he’d been talking to him not ten minutes before.
“Richie,” he breathed out. His cheeks flushed when Richie made eye contact with him and winked and then smirked like he knew just what he was doing as he made his way to the mic stand at the front of the stage. “Well, god damn,” Eddie laughed in disbelief, glancing over at Mike who was already looking at him.
“What was all that about?” Mike asked, nudging Eddie with his elbow because of course he’d caught that little interaction. Eddie shook his head and wondered why he was blushing. He barely knew Richie, and it’s not like he had a crush on him.
Before he could think on it for much longer, Eddie heard Richie turn to his drummer and count him off and then Richie was strumming on his guitar and the drummer was pounding out a beat that sounded a little familiar to him. He noticed that the girl wasn’t playing the keyboard, but a bass guitar that she must have stored back there. Then a voice was singing, low and raspy, and Eddie -- Eddie decided within the first three notes that this was a band he had to listen to more often. Richie was singing, and his eyes closed as he sang.
“I’ve been roaming around, always looking down at all I see. Painted faces, fill the places I can’t reach. You know that I could use somebody.”
Eddie loved the song, but the thing he loved most about it was how much Richie put into singing it, playing it, performing it. There was a guitar solo, and Eddie was grinning and dancing along with Mike. He was enjoying himself, and he didn’t even have to worry about what everyone around him was thinking because for that moment, he didn’t care.
The band played for about an hour and by the end, Eddie was sweaty and panting from dancing, but he was still smiling. He could see sweat glistening on Richie’s body as well from how much he’d been singing, playing, and dancing on stage.
“That’s all we got,” Richie said breathlessly into the mic, eyes looking over the crowd once again before finally landing on Eddie.
“We’ll b-be back next weekend,” the drummer spoke into his mic, and Richie gave him a thumbs up because he’d almost forgotten to mention that. With another goodnight, the band was leaving the stage and Eddie was giggling as music started playing from the speakers again.
“Holy shit,” he said, looking up at Mike again. Mike smiled and nodded his head, taking Eddie’s hand in his and leading him back to the bar. He needed a drink, and he knew Eddie needed one too. Not alcoholic after all that; no, he needed some water to cool down.
“They’re good, right?” Mike asked as he ordered them both a glass of water.
“Holy shit,” Eddie repeated, standing on the bar beneath one of the tall seats so that he could lift himself into it. “They’re so good. You know I don’t usually like rock music, but -- holy shit.”
Mike laughed and shook his head fondly, thanking the bartender when they got their waters and sliding one over to Eddie.
“I told you you’d like them!”
Eddie didn’t answer this time, pulling out his phone to check if he got any messages from Jake. He didn’t see one from his boyfriend, but he did see three from an unsaved number. One from a little over an hour ago, one from five minutes before, and one that came through just as he pulled out his phone.
hey it’s richie
what’d u think?
if u stick around for a bit, i’ll buy u a drink
Eddie couldn’t help but smile at that and he quickly texted back an “I’m already at the bar.” before he pocketed his phone again.
“Get a text from Jake?” Mike asked, voice sounding tenser than before. Eddie knew Mike didn’t like Jake one bit. He thought he didn’t treat Eddie right, but Eddie wouldn’t hear it. Jake was nice enough. Maybe things weren’t as fun as they were when they’d first met, but relationships weren’t supposed to be fun forever, right?
“No, from, uh… from Richie,” Eddie replied, sipping from the straw in his glass of water as Mike raised a brow and looked at him knowingly.
“From Richie?” He asked with a small laugh. “Richie Tozier?” When Eddie nodded, Mike started laughing hard enough that he had to put his head down in his hand for a moment. “Jesus, Eddie, it took you a whole month to even let me shake your hand and you’ve already given Richie your number?” He asked, not unkindly. He was more surprised that Eddie had it in him than anything. Eddie shrugged a shoulder shyly.
“He was nice enough. I met him in the bathroom before they performed,” he explained, looking toward the stage in hopes of seeing Richie come toward them. No such luck.
“Oh, so that’s why you came back looking all happy,” Mike grinned, nudging Eddie once more. “I’ve heard he can be kind of a trashmouth. I’m surprised you liked him enough to give him your number.” Eddie shrugged again, smiling softly.
“He’s funny. Sometimes,” he said. “He’d make a good friend, I think. I can’t just bother you and Stan all the time. Gotta have some variety,” he joked, and Mike rolled his eyes fondly.
Five minutes later, Eddie and Mike were so caught up in a debate about which Batman was better -- Eddie was on team Christian Bale but Mike argued that Ben Affleck might be an even better choice for the modern-day Batman -- that he had almost forgotten that Richie was supposed to be coming out and meeting him. He’d forgotten until there was a body in the seat on the other side of him and a voice butting into their conversation.
(Eddie hated people interrupting his conversations, but he didn’t really mind when it was Richie.)
“Did I hear someone say Batman?” Richie asked, smiling brightly at Eddie before he was ordering himself a drink.
“We were just talking about which Batman was better, Christian Bale or Ben Affleck,” Eddie filled Richie in, hoping that Richie didn’t think he was a nerd because he liked superheroes. Richie scoffed, which made Eddie smile shyly, almost apologetically.
“Everyone knows Superman is better,” he said, and Eddie’s jaw dropped in a gasp.
“No way! Batman is so much better,” he argued, glaring at the newest member of their little group.
“Batman doesn’t even have any powers! His only power is that he’s rich,” Richie said, the faintest of smiles on his lips as he argued with Eddie. “Superman has basically every power to ever exist. That makes him better.”
Eddie shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, and Richie couldn’t help but tilt his head back in a laugh. “At least Mike agrees with me! Don’t you, Mike?” He asked, turning to face his other friend. “Isn’t Batman better?”
“Um,” Mike started, smiling slightly. “I actually think Richie has a point. I love Batman, but Superman is way better.”
Eddie huffed and poked his bottom lip out in a pout only to turn it into a glare when Richie pinched his cheek lightly. He swatted Richie’s hand away.
“Come on, Eds, don’t pout! Batman is pretty awesome. I’ve just always been a Superman man myself,” he said proudly.
“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie glared. Richie just laughed.
By the time Eddie thought to check his phone again, it was nearing two in the morning. They had been talking for a few hours by then and they hadn’t run out of things to talk about yet. The three of them carried easy conversation, laughing as Richie told them exaggerated stories with wild gestures and different accents. Eddie made fun of him for them, but Richie took it all in stride.
The first thing Eddie saw on his phone was the time, 1:58am. The second thing he saw were the three missed calls and seven texts from Jake, each one getting angrier the more he sent. Eddie’s heart jumped up into his throat and he quickly opened his texts to say “Sorry, didn’t hear my phone go off. I’ll be home in 20.”
“I gotta be getting home,” Eddie said, quickly sliding off of the stool and grabbing his jacket. “I had fun tonight.” Richie frowned and turned in his seat to better look at Eddie, whose cheeks were flushed and eyes panicked as he checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he’d come with.
“Yeah, I’m… glad you came,” Richie said slowly. “Is everything alright?” He asked. He caught Mike’s eye over Eddie’s shoulder and saw that the other man was shaking his head as if to tell Richie not to ask, and Richie nodded just slightly to let him know he understood. “You should come by next weekend.”
Eddie forced a small smile on his lips and nodded his head.
“Yeah, I’ll - I’ll see what I can do,” he said, putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder and standing on his toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll text you later, Mike,” he said softly, then he waved at Richie
(who was not a little disappointed that Eddie didn’t kiss his cheek as well)
before he was rushing out and heading in the direction of his house. If he walked fast, he’d make it home within fifteen minutes or so.
Once he was gone, Richie turned to Mike, still frowning.
“What was all that about?” He asked, more than a little confused over how quickly their night had ended.
“It’s a long story,” Mike sighed, shaking his head as he took another drink. “His boyfriend… doesn’t like for him to be out late.”
“Boyfriend?” Richie asked, his heart plummeting. He was so sure that he and Eddie had had a connection that could have led to something more. This was the first he was hearing of said boyfriend.
“Yeah. His name’s Jake,” Mike rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t like when he rolled his eyes at Eddie. No, this was an annoyed roll of the eyes, one that told Richie exactly what Mike thought of him. “I don’t like him,” he said, just in case Richie hadn’t gotten the message.
“Why not?” Richie asked curiously.
Mike sighed then, running a hand over his face.
“It’s a long story, and it’s not really mine to tell,” he half-explained. “I have a feeling you’ll be hanging with us a lot more, so that means you’ll be meeting him.” Mike gave him a look that made Richie think maybe he didn’t want to meet Jake. “When you do, you’ll understand why I don’t like him.”
Richie didn’t know Jake. He hadn’t met him yet, and all he knew was what Mike had told him and how Eddie had reacted when seeing what Richie could only imagine were missed calls and messages. That was all he knew, but he already didn’t like him.
Not one bit.