mixtape (reddie)

Chapter 20

The confidence leaves Stan's voice quickly, immediately being overpowered by the evident fear he is feeling. "Richie, I-"

And then Richie seizes forward, capturing Stan's lips beneath his own and holding the boy in place by cupping the side of his neck. He can feel Stan's pulse going crazy in his palm, and his fingers wrap around Stan's tight curls.

The two kiss for what feels like hours, their lips moving back and forth with enough friction to create heat between them. Their cold noses bump into one another, and Richie feels chills run down his spine each time that Stanley reaches his hand under a new piece of clothing. Right now, the boy is gripping onto Richie's arm, his hand tucked into the jean jacket adorning Rich's body and his fingertips trying to find some form of warmth on the boy's bicep.

It feels new, and good, but weird. Maybe it's just because it's Richie's first proper time, but he shrugs it off and pushes deeper into the space that Stan allows him to take up.

His hands find comfortable places; one on Stan's chest, the other tangled in his messy hair. As Richie tightens his grip on a handful of curls, Stan will slide his fingers further up Richie's shirt, making the dark-haired boy gasp in surprise. Every once in awhile, Richie will stray away and kiss various parts of Stan including his cheek, or his jaw, or his nose, or his neck, or the spot beneath his lips, the little dimples, the place where his throat vibrates from a shy giggle, and his ear. He doesn't kiss these spots very long, his lips begin to miss and crave being on Stan's so he quickly finds himself being drawn back to the same spot. Over and over. Kiss after kiss.

Stan lets out a shaky gasp against Richie's mouth, his nose pressing into the soft apple of Richie's cheek. Winter seems to melt around them, the seasons regress, and the two boys begin to live in summer.

Still, that doesn't erase the underlying tone of feeling bad. Not bad because they're kissing another boy, not bad because they're kissing their friend, but bad because it's not the right one. At least, for Richie, it's not the right one. It becomes very apparent the longer that they sit in this frozen dirt and mingle lips, but Richie can't pull away. It feels too good, too warm. He has lacked human touch his whole life, he has never felt this close to someone else before, and he doesn't want to push it away. He needs it, he needs to feel loved, he needs to feel wanted, he needs to feel needed.

To their left, a twig snaps, and Stan immediately pulls away and holds a hand against Richie's neck to prevent the boy from diving back in. His wide eyes land on something, or someone, and he begins to breathe rapidly, his whole body filled with fear. Richie watches this, watches his eyes, and then slowly turns to see what, or who, it is that Stan has spotted.

Mike Hanlon.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Mike backs away, his hands up in surrender, an embarrassed yet guilty look spread across his face. He turns on his heel and makes a quick getaway, which only makes Stan hyperventilate even harder.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," Stan goes off on a mantra, shaking his head and clenching the collar of Richie's shirt tightly. "Oh god he saw."

"Hey, hey, calm down, alright? It's Mike," Richie says quickly, reaching out to cup Stan's cheek but getting his hand slapped away in reply. Richie can't hide the rejection on his face, but he still shakes his head and says "It's Mike. He won't tell anybody."

"Yes he will! Oh my god, Richie, I'm so totally screwed, I am so screwed," he exhales, his grip on the boy's shirt tightening dangerously.

Richie bites his tongue from making a foul joke, and instead says "Listen, I'll go talk to him. I'll talk to him, okay? Calm down. Calm down, you're okay, we're okay, this is all okay."