𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 / 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞✔️

Seventeen// Queen

     "What happened?" Richie gawked, staring at the purple blossom on the side of eddies cheek.
Eddie didn't answer, simply dragged his bag up to Richies room and set it on the ground carefully. Richie didn't think to much of his behavior, Eddie would explain before the night ended.
Richie stared, just make yourself comfortable don't worry me casa eh sucasa? That was the saying, right?
Eddie slipped out of his shirt comfortably, changing into an oversized Bowie one, and nothing but a pair of boxer briefs beneath.
Richie didn't realize he was staring until Eddie snapped in front of his face. "can I stay the night tonight?"
     The boys voice was soft, genuine. Richie couldn't say no, so he nodded.
     Eddie smiled thankfully. Simply glad someone understood despite the lack of background information as to why a boy came into his house changed into his pajamas and the only words he's said were 'can I stay the night tonight?' with a bruise on his face. Richie chose to ignore this fact though.
     Eddie felt the bed dip beneath his weight. He always liked Richies bed more than his own. The blankets were always so much more appealing, the mattress felt softer, but sometimes he wonders if it's the bed itself or the person who comes with it.
     Richie slid the vinyl Eddie had gotten him onto his record player, tapping his foot to the microbeat of Death On Two Legs, while Eddie rapped his fingers against his knees to the macrobeat.
     Richie noticed this, of course. It reminded him of...them. Eddie was slow and calm, easygoing and sweet, organized, while Richie was the opposite. He was fast and energized, messy, clumsy, how he always spoke before he through. He was everyone's eyes. He saw, the losers felt. It was ironic, really. He was scared of eyes.
     His fear of eyes isn't necessarily what it sounds like. He doesn't shriek and crumble in fear at the very sight of one. It's not the eyes itself, it's the holder of those eyes, and what those eyed hold.
     His fear betrayed him numerous times. He loves staring into the ocean of beverly's eyes, the deep, dark abyss of mike's, the new, spring glass of Bill's, and the drizzled honey with specks of caramel in eddie's. They were so beautiful. Yet Henry's ice cold glare could send him in a coma. Patrick's blue eyes were a tsunami that sucked Richie in, suffocating him as the salt leaked into his ears, nose, leaving his nostrils flaring at burning where he can no longer breathe from his mouth. He shivers at the thought.
     Richie didn't notice how long he'd spend thinking until the second to last song on the album began to play, Bohemian Rhapsody, Richies Head snapping to the player.
     Richie felt as if the words tattooed onto his forehead, he felt them, burning his skin. Heck, he didn't think there was a song that described him better.
     Eddie could've sworn Richies eyes were glassed over, and he could tell how much this song meant to him, how much Queen meant to him. Out of all his vinyls, the Queen ones were at the very top because no matter what, Freddie Mercury had a song for his thoughts.
     Richie liked the last part of the song more than the other parts, mostly because it's so upbeat despite its words. He's never really listened to the lyrics  of the last part, even though he knew every word. He mumbled them along every time, but didn't notice what he was saying. It was that trance that songs pull you into. You think you know the words because you can sing them, but you don't. You don't know why the artist chose those words. You don't know why the artist wrote the song. That's why Richie liked music so much. That's why he had so many vinyls and tapes for his Walkman, that's why he didn't befriend anyone who at least didn't know a song by Queen, and occasionally he'll let someone by if they knew Michael Jackson instead, even though he was his third favorite.
      He liked the mystery. He liked how the song's depth and meaning is partially up to the listener to decide. That's why he likes Queen.
     He likes how they're songs aren't about werewolves or dancing with someone, or some cheesy romance song. (Minus "Love Of My Life and a few others, those weren't super cheesy. He let them slide with an occasional listen.) Their songs were about reality. They were about deep things, whether you interpreted the songs as they were sang (a poor boy with no family, someone biting dust bunnies, Richie smiled at that, or someone chucking rocks at someone else) or whether you interpreted it deeper. Whether you thought or analogies and the person singing it, the pitches and letting the words really hit your core. Richie liked that Queen had deep, long, meaningful songs as well as songs simply meant for audience participation at concerts. He also really admired Freddie Mercury's sense of style at his shows, not many men could pull off women's apparel (except maybe Eddie).
     "I'm really gonna miss Freddie when he dies," Eddie commented when the album ended, taking the vinyl off and replacing it with a different one, also Queen, but Richie wasn't paying much attention to the music anymore. He was directed to Eddie now, his words caught him off guard completely.
     "Me too, maybe he'll live until he's one-hundred ten and continue making music until his death bed," Richie chuckled. Eddie didn't.
     "You know he has AIDS, right?" He said quietly, scared of really hurting Richie. He knew how close he felt with them, whether he's met them or not.
     Richie could've sworn a rock hit him upside his head right there.
     "I'm sorry you had to hear it from me," Eddie added. He treated it as if a relative had died, which Richie found funny, yet caring of him. He liked how Eddie was so careful with his emotions, tip toeing around the subject so lightly, kind of like the light drizzles of rain Derry gets.
     "Holy shit," Richie blurted. He knew it wasn't the appropriate response, but heck, he didn't know how else to react. He'd be lucky if Freddie lived past his forties. At least itd save the word from seeing a ninety year old Freddie Mercury in a tight leotard. Richie mentally cursed himself for that. Why would he joke about this? Was that literally the only way he knew how to cope with sadness?
    "Well we gotta do something about that," Richie smiled widely. A lightbulb clicked inside his brain.
     Eddie furrowed his eyebrows at the boy, questioning his mental health for a few seconds.
     "We can't just poof away his AIDS you know."
     Richie laughed, actually laughed, but he wasn't fazed. "No, silly. We're going to see Queen live."
      Eddies jaw dropped, "my mom would never-" he stopped himself. His jaw closed, and he broke into a devious grin. Fuck his mom, he thought, his mom didn't matter. She wasn't his mom anymore, since no son of hers was a fag, (he wasn't a fag, he hated that word, but he was gay and fag means gay) that must mean he is simply no longer her son.
     "Let's do it!"
     And that's how Richie and Eddie ended up at a Queen concert.
—
     "Richie, you're a miracle worker!" Eddie exclaimed.
     "What can I say? If Freddie Mercury has a chance of dying, I have to touch his beautiful face beforehand!"
     Eddie giggled, staring at the concert tickets, VIP labeled in dark black ink. They get to take a picture with the band after the concert ends, and exchange a few quick words. Richie knows he'll be in tears.
    "We're going to a Queen concert holy shit!" Eddie laughed, hugging Richie tightly. Richie was just as excited, but he had to hide it, he didn't want to seem weak.
     That's when he began to feel the tension.
     Eddies face pressed up against Richies chest, Richies hand in eddies hair, he felt an invisible barrier, almost, drawing him closer and closer to eddies face. Eddie was on his tip toes, and Richie was hunched just slightly, enough that their lips were a mere inch from touching. Richie wanted to close the gap again, to feel eddies lips on his. He had once but it'd been forgotten and washed away into the whirlpool of thoughts swirling through their heads.
     For a second Richie felt that Eddie had the same connection, too.
     He could've sworn Eddie inched closer, and Richie panicked.
     He coughed, pulling away and burying his face into his elbow, and Eddie chose to ignore the near connection of their lips as well. It'd be for the best if they pretended it never happened.
     If was the day after Eddie had stayed over, breaking into his house with zero information as to why he wasn't with his mom, and Richie surprised him with Queen tickets as he promised. Shouldn't he be happy? All because he didn't kiss Richie Tozier? Did Eddie like Richie? He was gay..but no. No. Richie was straight. But he kissed him all those days ago in the bathroom- no. Just heat of the moment. Richie didn't like Eddie and Eddie didn't like Richie.
     But god, did Richie like Eddie.
     It took a while to accept the fact what he felt for his best friend wasn't platonic, and that he really wanted him.
     Eddie hasn't accepted it, but he knows he wants it.
     He wants it.
     He wants Richie.