(1) He'd Gone To College As Far Away From His Mother As Possible, Even Though He Knows He'll Only Go

(1) He'd gone to college as far away from his mother as possible, even though he knows he'll only go back to her when he graduates. It feels crushingly inevitable, a thing he can feel when he makes his dutiful evening calls home. He doesn't really know how to break away, and after he'd gotten retrograde amnesia at fifteen, his mother had been so concerned about his delicate health. He vaguely remembers being in the hospital as a kid, and not much else before moving to New York.

(2) Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t know much about himself, as a result of said amnesia. He knows he was sickly as a kid, that he’d had bronchitis and then asthma, and whatever other things his mother sometimes worries about. He knows he broke his arm once, though he doesn’t remember it. It aches in the winter, which makes him glad he’s attending UCLA instead of staying up north where his mother wanted him to go to school. And he knows one other thing about himself, something he’d rather not know.

(3) He knows his mother knows, though she won’t admit that it’s him, because when they talk on the phone, she tells him to be careful who he spends his time with. Not to run around with any dirty boys, boys who are trouble, boys who will only make him sick. She doesn’t say the words but he hears them just the same. Once, she’d said ‘if it wasn’t for that dirty boy, you would never have broken your arm’, and then refused to say more about it, left him with his imagination.

(4) Sometimes, in his braver hours, he imagines that he broke his arm climbing out of his window to meet someone, someone his mother could never have approved of. A boy. He doesn’t think that’s right, really. He doesn’t think at thirteen he could have had a boyfriend, or that he would have climbed out the window. He doesn’t know what story his bedroom window would have been on in the Maine house. He likes to imagine it anyway, and then he feels sick with himself.

(5) Eddie meets Richie Tozier at a party, and he hears his mother’s voice in his head, he can hear the way she would say Richie’s name. ‘Eddie-bear, I don’t want you talking to that filthy Tozier boy, that kind is no good for you’, that’s what she would say. Among other things. Richie is a drop-out, even though he hears someone say he’s smart enough for a degree. Richie is a stand-up comedian. Eddie just wants to be close to him in ways he doesn’t dare define.

(6) “My mother thinks that going to college in California means there’s an army of boys trying to corrupt me and take my virginity.” He says, when they’re sitting on the roof, a house party thrown by people Eddie doesn’t even know. But he’s watching Richie, who isn’t smoking only because Eddie had mentioned his asthma, and Richie is wild and shocking and Eddie wants to shock him. And because somehow it feels safe to talk to him. “She thinks if I’m not careful I’ll come home gay.”

(7) “That’s dumb.” Richie fidgets, and looks away, his jaw muscles tightening, and Eddie burns to touch him. “She really thinks you can turn gay? I mean, not to besmirch your mother’s intelligence, I’m sure she’s a beautiful woman. A real dream. As sensitive as she is wise. Um… are– do a lot of guys– like, try to get somewhere with you? Not that– I mean just because you’re cute and guys like you, that wouldn’t make you– you know. It’s a weird thing to worry about.”

(8) “No, I feel kind of cheated, honestly. She keeps telling me not to let any dirty boys put their hands on me, and so far none of them are trying.” He says, and his heart is soaring, and he doesn’t think he could ever have been as brave before as Richie Tozier makes him feel. “If you know any dirty boys, you should give them my number. So I can get the real California college experience.”

(9) “I don’t have your–” Richie starts, but Eddie is already pulling the Sharpie out of his fanny pack. He takes Richie’s hand in his– big hands, Richie has such big hands– and he writes his number on his forearm, neat, puts a little 'E’ next to it and doesn’t write his full name out. Knows Richie shouldn’t have a boy’s name written on his skin, but he’ll know when he sees it in the morning, he’ll know well enough. “Oh. Your number.”

(10) “Yeah. My number. You know… just in case you know any dirty boys. Really filthy boys. Boys who might want to put their big hands on me? Guys like that.” He shrugs, releasing Richie’s hand reluctantly, imagining it at his waist, spread across his ribcage, his chest. He’s never– he doesn’t think– been kissed before, but he knows what he wants. Richie Tozier, holding him, kissing him, making him feel real for the first time. “Do you know any boys like that, Rich?”

(11) “I know one guy.” Richie licks his lips, and Eddie can hear it when he swallows. “Like, a guy who thinks you’re cute. He, um… People call him ‘trashmouth’, so I figure that’s dirty enough for your mother. Or– did that come out wrong? Like I mean he thinks your cute and he’s definitely filthy. He would– he would go to town on you. Like anything you wanted. And– you know, buying you dinner or something, not like just a hook-up.”

(12) Oh. Eddie hadn’t hoped that hard, but the idea of going out, of Richie wanting to buy him dinner first, or after, or on an unrelated occasion… It’s a heady thing and it sings through his veins, going on a date with Richie Tozier, trashmouth extraordinaire, college dropout, the kind of filthy boy his mother wouldn’t want him near… and one who’s spent the past hour itching for a smoke and not having one because he’s with Eddie.

(13) “Tell him to ask me to go to the movies Friday night.” Eddie leans in, their shoulders gently bumping together. He wonders if he dares reach out, touch his arm. It takes him a moment to decide he does. “Tell him he could make out with me right here on the roof if he wants to– but only if he wears glasses. I like a guy with glasses. A tall guy. Who makes me laugh. He could have me whenever he wanted to. Hypothetically.”

(14/14) And then Richie kisses him, and the world is right. He lays him down, right there on the roof, and he’s tender, and his mouth tastes like buffalo wings and ranch from down in the party, that his breath mint didn’t quite cover, which is kind of gross, but he guesses not as gross as it could have been. The mint helps a little and Richie’s hands help a lot, and Eddie wants to tell the whole world that a boy has kissed him. For now, he settles for kissing back.