mixtape (reddie)

November 21st, 1988

Richie,

I haven't hung out with you in two days.

I am aware that that is merely a blip in time, and that two days means nothing, but I still feel the ache in my chest. I thought it was heartburn, I thought it was acid reflux, I thought it was early onset respiratory infection, but it was merely Richie Tozier. Or the lack thereof.

I wish I didn't miss you, because it feels stupid to want to see you. Do you think the same thing? Probably not. I don't know. If you did want to see me, you would probably call me or something, right? But then again, I don't call you either, so who knows? Maybe you do, maybe you don't.

Today you were wearing a really cute shirt. It was a buttonup with tiny little cacti printed all over it, and you had these outrageously ridiculous flame design socks pulled up over your jeans. Has anybody ever told you that your fashion is awful? Bill seems to love it, though, which is so weird to me. That's besides the point, however. The point is that I was admiring this lovely shirt at lunch, taking in all the little details on the cacti, when you looked over at me and smiled.

It was a simple smile, nothing ground-breaking here.

But I still felt my heart physically patter against my ribs like a moth trapped under a glass. The delicate wings make such hefty noises against the containment, but I didn't feel trapped. I felt free, scarily free, as if I was falling straight from a helicopter with no parachute. Nobody wants to be that free, and yet you can make me feel that airborne just from a spotty smile.

And then I did something brave. I don't think you see it as brave, but for me, it was quite a big deal. I get nervous around you, Richie. You make me feel such... angry, demanding feelings, so its hard for me to overcome those nerves when they beg to be felt. But I reached out and grazed my fingertips right against your thigh, so lightly that I don't even think you felt it. I don't think you did, or else you would have said something, right? I don't know. You were arguing with Bill about some guy who cheated during gym class, I wasn't exactly listening. But I know that you put your hand down on your leg, right on the spot that I touched. I think you were inviting me, or maybe hoping that I would touch there again, but I lost all the nerve that I had managed to build up and instead went back to peeling my orange. Stanley was stressing over his review notes for history, yelling at you to take this test more seriously, but you just smiled and said you had it covered. I wish things were that easy for me. I feel like I live in a perpetual state of confusion, and you only make things worse, Richie.

Still. Even so, I don't think I would have it any other way. May my life be confusing for the rest of my days if it means you get to be beside me through it all.

I think your parents are still out of town, so I might ask you to come over for Thanksgiving. I don't know how my mom would feel about it, especially considering that I haven't even told her that you exist yet, but I just don't want you being home alone and feeling bad about it. Stan's family doesn't celebrate it because the food isn't "kosher" (whatever that means), so he either goes to Bill or Mike's. Beverly always goes to Ben's, but I suppose you already know that, being her best friend and all. I don't know, I just think it would be nice. Everyone gets to spend Thanksgiving with someone else, and I'm stuck with my mother. Kinda sucks. It would suck way less if you were there.

On a bit of a darker note, I haven't been sleeping well lately. I wish I could listen to your tape, but I don't even have a fucking Walkman. Can you believe that? It's 1988 and I'm the only person in the world who doesn't even have a tape deck. Mom thinks that the devil brainwashes kids through music nowadays, so I don't even get to have a radio. (But she bought me a TV despite all the negative side effects of those?) Oh, I guess I should make a note of that. If I invite you to Thanksgiving, I have to remind you to not wear any Led Zeppelin shirts or anything along the lines. My mother would be convinced that you're an evil, soul-sucking, dopehead. I'd never hear the damn end of it if I brought home a boy with an appearance as rough as yours.

(Just so we're clear, I happen to be very... fond of your appearance. I like you the way you are, dopehead shirts and all.)

Back to the point. I haven't been sleeping well because of the fact that I can't hear the music. It feels so fucking wrong of me to have access to this special gem straight from Richie Tozier's brain, with absolutely no way of listening to it. I must admit, nobody has ever given me a mixtape before, but I am beyond flattered by it. The thought and raw passion that must have gone into these songs, all for me... it's more than I could ever ask for, Richie. I know I'm not very good at expressing these things, but I really truly do love the fact that you tailored this mix of songs just for me. I only wish I had a way to actually, y'know, listen to them. It feels wrong to have them sitting there collecting dust, but what else am I to do?

Maybe it's because you're not here. I certainly sleep better when you're around, so perhaps it is just your presence that eases me, not the music itself. I... Again, I wish that I didn't miss you so much, because I just sparked a craving to feel your warm chest cradling my spine. What's the opposite of anemic? You radiate more body heat than what should be considered normal, but I miss the warmth. It feels like summer days and sunburned, scorched skin. Bambi blood and recoils on BB guns. The burn in my pec as I draw the bow. The arrow is pointed at your chest, I hope to god I don't miss this shot.

I'm going to try and get some sleep tonight, hopefully I don't have that dream again. I'm still sleeping with your jacket, so maybe that can aid my restlessness. It's worked well as a replacement Richie in these past two days, but I think I would about die from embarrassment if you were to ask me what happened to your favorite windbreaker.

We go camping this weekend. While everyone is still in a turkey-coma from Thanksgiving, I will be spending a whole weekend in a tent with you. Isn't that amazing? I'm- I'm actually excited. Ludicrous, isn't it? I, Eddie Kaspbrak, am excited to stay with Richie Tozier. There's just so many possibilities, you know? So many.

I hope you're as excited as I am.

I'm bringing peaches to school tomorrow, I've noticed that you like those more than the apples. I like making sure you're well fed, it gives me a sense of pride knowing that I've helped. Maybe my place in this world is in your wake, feeding off of your ghostly shadow, and taking care of you where I can. If it were, I don't think I would mind all that much. Like living in the shade beneath a tree, I will carve my initials into the bark and leave my mark where I can.

yours,

Eds.