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ishouldreallybeelsewhere · 3 years

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I Don’t Dance; An Analysis

By someone with no idea what they’re doing

Can I just say,,, this song slaps. Like, ignore everything,, all the connections, all the subtext, all the whatever, this song (I Don’t Dance from High School Musical 2) is just rlly good. I’ve been listening to it a lot (shocker) and I have to say, perhaps pop isn’t so bad. I’m lying, of course, rock forever, but also not the point. Now, onto what I was actually planning on talking about.

Songs can say a lot, especially when paired with dances, and to see the full meaning of a song, one must look past it’s surface level meaning and dive deep into the subtext. Contextually, the song makes sense as just talking about baseball, but on a surface level only. Look into it for even a moment and you’re sure to find all the queer subtext you need to confirm the theory that High School Musical as a whole is a metaphor for accepting your queer identity.

A quick overview of the song; it starts as a friendly game of baseball between Ryan and Chad, the dancer and the jock. That’s fairly straight-forward, and as they play, Ryan encourages Chad to dance, insisting that he can and should, while dancing in ways that enhance his own playing. I should mention right now, I know fuck-all about baseball. I learnt to spell it, like, 15 minutes ago. It should not be spelt like that. Regardless, I’m gonna do my best to some-what grasp/avoid the thing entirely. Anyway, I’m getting off track. Back to what I was saying, the song is Ryan encouraging Chad to dance, in a somewhat flirtatious matter. The song ends after a dance routine involving the entirety of both teams, and then, in the following scene, Chad and Ryan are shown having a good time, talking and laughing while eating lunch, WEARING EACH OTHER’S CLOTHES!! If someone can give me a heterosexual explanation for that,,,, don’t.

Now, for what I’ve been meaning to get to; what does the song actually mean? (I use the phrase ‘Now,’ at the start of a lot of sentences, sorry in advance.)

Obviously, it’s about accepting your queer identity and living your life to its fullest, not allowing the heteronoramilty of the world hold you back. Anyone who’s ever watched the movie can tell you that, however, as is the way with any piece of explanatory writing, I have to assume that you’ve never even seen any of the movies (heathen).

The plot doesn’t matter. I don’t care about all but four characters, Zeke, Sharpay, Chad, and Ryan. This will primarily be about the latter two, and their own acceptance of who they are.

From the start, Ryan is flamboyant and feminine, the archetype of a gay man, as ‘subtlety’ isn’t really a thing in High School Musical. Less so in the sequel, aside from the sub-text of course, but they had to get that past Disney’s censors. Also, Ryan is one of the ‘villains’ of the trilogy, meaning that he can be queer-coded as much as the writers desire. Off track once again. I apologise. No I don’t. Anyway, Ryan is a theatre kid. The theatre kid, excluding his sister, of course, but as I said previously, Sharpay is not the topic of today’s discussion. Why is theatre so important you ask? Well, not only is the whole point of the trilogy theatre and musicals, but it’s often associated with queer identity, gay men, and femininity. While that is not true, necessarily, it works well as a metaphor and for subtext in the series. Ryan’s theatre/dance-centered personality is made as such because he is one of the few openly gay students in the movie. Theatre and dance, in this context, are queer. And Ryan is incredibly open with his sexuality, especially after he steps out from his sister’s shadow and comes into himself, realising who he is in his entirety.

Chad is on the opposite side of the spectrum. He’s, to put it bluntly, a Chad. Sporty, masculine, ‘straight’, everything he’s expected to be, but, secretly, he knows that that’s not quite true. He’s likely bisexual, as we never recive a label I will refer to him as such, and he knows this about himself. He accepts it, but refuses to act on it, or really acknowledge it, so it is not true acceptance. He is still hiding and suppressing part of himself, dancing only when everyone around him is doing the same, conforming to the heterosexual society that we all must reside in. So much of who he appears to be centered around sport and straightness, but after he is left by his closest friend (Asshole Troy. My cousin stunt-doubled Zac Effron once lol) he’s unsure where to go, and accepts an offer to play a friendly game of baseball against Ryan.

Ryan knows that Chad is bi. He knows that Chad is suppressing and hiding a part of himself, and, on some level, understands what that’s like, and knows how harmful that can be, and takes it upon himself to change that, and the game begins. Literally. And of all games, it’s baseball, one of the only sports I know filled to the brim with euphemisms and gay slang, and let me tell you, I know very little about both things, but I did actaully do research before this.

Chad knows what Ryan is trying to do, and rejects it, insisting that he has to ‘just do his thing.’ He steps up, the batter, insisting that he can be straight, that he doesn’t need that other part of himself to feel whole. Ryan sees clearly that this is bullshit.

‘I’ll show you that it’s one in the same, baseball, dancing, same game.’ In this line, Ryan is explaining that Chad doesn’t need to give up his masculinity or his love for sport to live in his true identity, that dancing and baseball are the same thing, different flavours. He can stay who he is while still being true to himself and stop suppressing a part of himself. He’s also flirting, a lot. Saying that he can show Chad what he’s missing.

‘I wanna play ball now, and that’s all. This is what I do. It ain't no dance that you can show me,’ replies Chad, saying how he doesn’t agree, and has no wish to change who he is, regardless of the consequences. He doesn’t think that the two parts of his identity can live in harmony, and he’s gotten this far in life while suppressing his queer side, he can do it forever. Of course, as you likely already know, dear reader, this is far from true, and Ryan has made it his mission to prove that, through song and suspiciously flirtatious dance.

‘You’ll never know, if you never try.’ Ryan now is telling Chad that he’ll never know if he can be happier as an open bisexual if he doesn’t try to expirience life in a different way, and is also telling Chad he’s dtf.

‘There’s just one little thing that stops me every time.’ Chad is on the verge of agreeing, accepting Ryan’s advances, when it cuts to his team, watching him play. He can’t come out, can’t fully accept himself, even if he wants to, without risking rejection from his team, from his friends, and having to possibly leave behind the world of sports that he so loves. The masculinity is fragile in this one, I must say. But his team not backing him up, leaving him behind, that scares Chad more than anything at that point in his life. Even if it is living his truth, he won’t risk the life already built up around him. In his eyes, nothing would truly be worth it. But Ryan won’t give up on him.

Then the pair go back and forth, arguing over whether Chad has it in him to accept it, risk everything to be who he truly is. ‘If I can do this then you can do that.’ Ryan is telling Chad that if he can play baseball while still retaining his queer identity, then Chad can do the same while dancing. Doing one thing does not invalidate or cancel out the other. He can, and should, do both, to become a more complete version of himself. However, Chad’s team is still supporting him only in baseball, at this point in the song anyway.

‘Hey, batter, batter. Hey batter, batter, swing.’ At this point, no one is actually swinging at the ball, showing that this is not what they’re talking about. ‘Swing that way,’ is often used to refer to whom one is attracted to, and Ryan is telling Chad to ‘swing,’ to come to terms with his attraction to men, and to Ryan himself. While they are singing this, Chad is literally approaching first base, not too dissimilar from the bases in a relationship. Like, any other sport, any one at all, and they had to pick this one. Even urban dictionary agrees it’s gay as all hell.

‘Bases loaded, do your dance. It’s easy.’ Here, Ryan is telling Chad that baseball is almost a dance on its own, it requires movement and coordination like dance, and at this point Chad can’t disagree, because the bases are loaded (I do actually know what that means) and he has to hit the ball and free them up, else something happens (reaching the end of my baseball knowledge sorry).

‘I've got what it takes, playin my game. So you better spin that pitch. You're gonna throw me, yeah.’ Here Chad is admitting that Ryan is distracting him, his dance and words throwing him off his game. ‘I’ll show you how I swing.’ Chad is play-flirting now, not-quite-mockingly responding to Ryan while dancing, ever so slightly, while still remaining in the game. He comes closer to accepting it than he has before, but still refusing to truly accept it.

With Ryan’s line, ‘hit it out of the park,’ we return ever so slightly to the literal playing of the game, and Ryan telling Chad to give it his best shot, showing his support despite being on the opposing team. Moments later, members of Chad’s team begin dancing as well, using the movements to enhance their play somewhat, and, subtly, showing their support for dancing and all that comes with it. Chad, however, has still not reached that point.

‘Lean back, tuck it in, take a chance. Swing it out, spin around, do the dance.’ Ryan’s now explaining how connected dancing and baseball really are, how they can easily coexist, of course playing into what Ryan has been trying to convince Chad of the whole time, that he can accept himself and still remain as Chad-like as he wants.

‘I wanna play ball, not dance hall.’ Chad doesn’t care, instead staying steadfast in his position that sport and dance must stay seperate, but his actions betray his words, as, however mockingly it may be, he does in fact dance along to those lines.

‘I can prove it to you til you know it's true. 'Cause I can swing it, I can bring it to the diamond too.’ Ryan is not giving up. He’s trying his best to say that he’s a dancer, sure, but his skills help him on the field. Were he not a dancer, he would likely not be as good at baseball as he is, explaining that if you are repressing a part of yourself, then you are not living up to your full potential, and not living life to its fullest.

‘You’re talking a lot, show me what you got.’ Prove it, Chad is saying as he throws the ball. And Ryan swings, and hits it, sending it far out over the playing field, proving his point, and with that, Ryan relents. Now, as he says he doesn’t dance, he’s dancing with his whole team behind him. They’re showing their support, and the dance becomes almost making fun of his past stance, and now he and Ryan flirt relentlessly through the song, as they dance.

They repeat their banter, all while dancing, and they come extremely close, closer than anyone else in the court, coming closer and closer to first base.

‘You can do it.’ It’s Chad’s team now, dancing behind him, showing their support for him, and insisting that he can dance, he can accept his identity in its whole, and they will still be behind him, still accept him for who he is. Chad and Ryan dance across from each other, back and forth, all of both teams and the crowd, all of them showing support.

Even as it returns to Chad batting, he does so bouncing on his toes to the music, and as he scores a home run, clearing the bases, each of his team members who are on the bases reach home with a flourish, a dance move of their own, even though they themselves are straight. Likely.

However, during the whole song, Ryan and Chad were openly flirting, the song is many things, as Chad knew his sexuality, he just wasn’t comfortable enough to admit it. At first the flirting was jokingly, on Chad’s side anyway, but tensions rise as the song continues, and Ryan makes sure Chad understands that this isn’t a joke, he means it. And that takes a few minutes for Chad to truly accept. The song is about self-acceptance and the chemistry between the two characters, more chemistry than literally any other characters, including Troy and Gabriella.

As the song ends, and Chad scores a home run, winning the game, the two fall over each other at the home base, and it’s over, the scene is anyway, and with the end of the game comes the end of Chad’s suppression. He can finally accept his bisexuality with the knowledge that his team will stay behind him and that he can be happy with a man just as he could with a woman, something that prior to this song, he didn’t truly believe.

And then, in the next scene, Ryan and Chad are wearing each other’s clothes, talking about the game in a far friendlier manner than any previous interaction. Together, they have hotdogs and good conversation, and the swapping of their clothes, including hats, implies that they totally fucked. Not to sound insensitive, obviously, but please, if you can think of any other explanation, please enlighten me.

Now, how does this tie into the rest of High School Musical? I should mention now I’ve not seen the third one and can barely remember the other two. However, I believe I know enough for my point to have some grounds. In this movie trilogy, theatre is queerness, as I have already explained, and conforming to society is heteronormativity. The path of Troy accepting that he loves theatre and basketball at the same time is one of accepting himself in his entirety. While I don’t personally believe that the character himself is queer, it is still a path of acceptance that still resonates with much of the LGBTQ+ community who would watch this movie.

The whole idea of the series is rejecting the status quo and living your life without rejecting any part of yourself. This is taken to another level between Chad and Ryan, someone who has accepted himself completely, and someone who doesn’t want to give up the life he has. There is little else to be said on the matter (LIES! I could talk about this for so long) so it appears time to wrap it up.

I don’t care that much about High School Musical. That may seem surprising, but before this weekend, I couldn’t tell you the character’s names. It is a strange feeling to fall so completely into something that you ignore all schoolwork to write an analysis (strong word) of a clip of a movie. I downloaded the Osu map (after finding it by accident) and played it until I got an S, even tho I’ve had the game only for a couple weeks, barely ever play it, and the easiest version of the map was 2.3 stars. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to it, and I had to finish this piece of writing so I could have some semblance of peace, as all my friends are tired of hearing about it but I need to get my thoughts out. Perhaps now that this is done I can pay attention to the science class that’s been happening around me. I think I’ve said all I can, and I hope that is enough to satisfy my mind. And I am well aware that there is someone out there who has done this with fewer and better words, but I don’t really care.

TLDR; High School Musical 2 is gay, and even more gay than that is Chad and Ryan. Thank you and goodnight.

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edsbev · 6 years

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Random teen Au Idea: the losers are all at Richies house and they decide to play a drinking game. It’s all fun until they realize Eddie hasn’t drank before. So they find out he can’t really hold his booze. He kinda dozes off. Richie let’s Eddie have his bed and makes a bed on the floor. When he comes back up with pillows Eddie makes him lay with him. Turns out Eddie is clingy when drunk and cuddles Richie all night. Mumbling things like “I love you” (andrichieishearingallofthisforthefirsttime)

ok so. i wrote a dumb lil thing for this. and by that i mean i wrote 3.4k of nonsense that have literally no point but anyway this was just rlly cute and i love drunk eddie so! here’s this. (i kinda changed it up a lil hope thats ok)

"Hey, Rich," Mikesays, from where he's sat on the floor. "Got any snacks?"

They're in Richie's basement,or, Richie's parents basement, because he's seventeen and still has to legallylive under the same roof as an adult. It's alright, aside from his dad's badpuns and his mother's scatterbrained tendencies, it's cool. Because his parentslet him have his friends over when they're not around.

So right now, Mike Hanlon issitting cross-legged on the old dusty, circle-printed rug. Looking forlornly atthe clutter of empty bowls on the wooden coffee table.

Of course, he's not the onlyfriend here. Beverly Marsh is shifting around on the orange couch (the entirebasement has a stuffy, cluttered 70s feel, with all its warm tones, woodenpaned walls and orange and green patterns) and she almost kicks Ben Hanscom inthe face as she sticks her feet up over the back of the seat, her head danglingabove the floor.

"I think the real questionis," she says, grinning at Richie. "Is whether or not he has anybooze."

From the loveseat, with his legstucked neatly beneath him, his fair curls touched by the orange light of thelamp beside him (one of the only bright things in this dank, dark basement,aside from the small, fuzzy box TV, which bathes a pleasant blue glow overMike's skin), Stanley Uris makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat.

"We're not stealingRichie's parents’ alcohol and getting drunk in Richie's basement," hesays.

"You w-wanna get drunksomewhere else?" asks Bill Denbrough, from where he's leant against Ben'slegs on the floor, a crooked grin on his mouth.

Stan gets a very pinched look onhis face, and he glares at Richie, like this is somehow his fault.

"We can steal someoneelse's booze too," Richie adds, and Bev laughs in a way that's just aclear and sharp "Ha!" and Bill snorts and Stan neatly but angrily foldshis arms across his chest.

"That's not what Imeant."

Richie grins. He stands behindthe orange couch, so he can see them all, and because he had gotten up at somepoint to actually go grab snacks, and got distracted along the way. And now hetaps his fingers along the cushions, gives Bev's ankle a playful tug, and turnsto face his sixth and smallest, but also best, friend. Eddie Kaspbrak. Who'sbeen poking around with Richie's dad old record player and ignoring everyoneelse.

"What do you reckon, Eds?"

Eddie startles. Pulling his handaway from the record needle. He gives Richie a wide-eyed look, big brown eyesglinting gold in the lamplight, like he's been caught doing something wrong. Ofcourse, he hasn't done anything wrong, aside from tune out the group for thepast five minutes, lured over by the sight of Richie's dad broken record playerand his desire to tinker and fix things - he just has a perpetual wide-eyedlook, on account of his eyes being round and doe-like. Richie has told Eddiethat he finds it adorable on many occasions, but in a joking, light-hearted waythat is easy for Eddie to dismiss with the wave of his hand. Truth is though,Richie really does find Eddie adorable. Doe-eyes and freckles and fluffy hairand all.

"Um," says Eddie, gazeflickering from Richie to the group - who are now all waiting for his response.His hand still hovers half way to the record needle, like he'd much rathertinker around with that than join in on whatever the rest of the Losers aredoing. "Yeah, sure."

Richie immediately breaks out ina grin, and Eddie jolts a little - like a frightened mouse - as Richie swingsaround to face the others. "Here that, ladies and gentleman!" He ismet with only one smiling face, being Bev. "Eddie is all for the booze!"

"Wait, no-"

"Wait right here, folks,I'll be right back."

"Richie!"

Richie ascends the stairs two ata time, cackling. The sound of footsteps chases after him.

Of course, it's Eddie. Richieslides on his socks along the floorboards to the kitchen, and he can hear Eddieyelling at him. Something about Richie being a dumbass, the usual stuff. Hestumbles into the kitchen, crouches by the bottom cupboards, and tears open thedoors just as Eddie catches up. Richie grips the handle to keep his balance onhis bent toes, and looks up over the cupboard door at Eddie, who is standingbehind it - the top of the door reaching Eddie's waist, because he's small (ha)-and glowering at Richie with all the heat his perpetual wide-eyes can muster.

"Is there a problem, mydear Spagedward?" Richie asks sweetly.

"Fuck the booze,Rich," Eddie says.

"Kinky." Richiereaches into the cupboard and pulls out the first bottle he gets his hands on.Red wine. Gross.

"Seriously, put the alcoholaway," Eddie continues. Richie continues to rummage through the cupboards,the sound of glass bottles clinking together. "I didn't consent tothis."

"Oh, come on, Eds,"Richie says. He pulls out another bottle. White wine this time. Better butstill gross. He holds it up toward Eddie and Eddie takes it without thinking."You love a good drink."

"No." Eddie snorts."I fucking don't."

Richie reaches right into theback of the cupboard, so far that his shoulder hits the underside of thecounter top. He turns his head to side and watches Eddie, who looking at thebottle of wine in his hands like it holds poison. A crease between his brows,the corner of his mouth tugged down in a frown. Richie's always liked hismouth. But that's beside the point. The point is, Eddie looks, in that moment,completely adverse to alcohol. And now Richie is having an epiphany of sorts,thinking back through every hazy drunk memory and not finding Eddie in any oneof them.

"Eddie," he says, andhis eyes widen and his mouth gapes open in a bit of an asshole smile but hecan't help it. "Have you...never had alcohol before?"

Eddie almost drops the bottle.Scrambles to clutch it close to his chest, his cheeks and the tips of his earsturning pink. He stutters over an answer, but it's pointless. Richie gets thatswelling feeling in his chest that people usually feel when they win thelottery or some shit.

"Oh my god."

"Richie -"

"I can't believe I neverrealised -"

"It's really not a big deal-"

"Yeah but you've never -"Richie breaks off when he notices the way Eddie averts his gaze, face growerredder by the second, and Richie feels something close to compassion."Hey," he says, voice two shades softer, drawing those doe brown eyesback toward him. "We don't have to drink, if you don't want to."

That must be the wrong thing tosay, because Eddie's face hardens around the edges, jaw tightening, a sharplook in his eye, and he scowls. "Don't baby me," he says.

"Eddie, you literally saidbefore that you didn't want to drink. I wasn't -"

Eddie ignores him, locking hishand around the neck of the wine bottle in a white-knuckled grip (Richiedoesn't miss the way Eddie's eyes dart to Richie's own neck, like he'simagining his hand wrapped around that instead). "Get your fucking booze,Trashmouth," he snaps, already turning to leave. "We're doingthis."

"Hot," Richiewhispers to himself, eyes trained to Eddie's back as he walks off. He has tostop himself from appreciate at the sight. Instead, he snatches up two morebottles and chases after him.

And that's how they all ended updrunk in Richie's parent's basement.

Well, actually, there was a stepbefore that. Important step. Being the game of 'Never Have I Ever' that they'dplayed, at Bev's insistence. They usually play it by just counting off on theirfingers, and Richie always fucking loses. Though, technically, in that game losingis basically winning. Eddie and Stan always argue that the last left should bethe winner (mostly because they're always the last left) and Richie just reallyfucking likes winning. And so a couple rounds in he'd swirled around thecontents in his bottle, looked up at Eddie slyly through his lashes, and said,"Never have I ever not been drunk before tonight."

"What?" Bev hadsnorted, bottle already poised at her lips (because she was so use to drinkingafter every turn), but Richie tuned her out, zeroing in on the unimpressed lookEddie was simmering his way.

He'd held eye contact withRichie as he placed the lip of bottle to his mouth, tipped his head back, andtaken a shot. It'd taken less than a second, but Richie's mind decided tostupidly play it all in slow motion. The way Eddie's lips circled around thebottle, the way the light bathed golden over his neck, shadows dripping downinto the hollow of his throat and pooling in his collarbones, the way hisAdam's apple bobbed.

HOT screamed Richie's hormonal, teenage brain. Then Eddieconvulsed, expression pinching in disgust at the taste. And Richie softenedinto something more endeared.

"Fuck you," Eddiesaid, wiping his mouth. "Never have I ever had the name Richie."

"Eddie, it's not yourturn," Ben supplied nicely.

"It's okay," Richietold Ben, though he kept his eyes on Eddie. They were both staring at eachother, still, in an unwavering, daring sort of way, and Richie wasenjoying it a lot. Richie grinned, and took a swig.

And they'd gone on like that,competitive streaks taking over, targeting each other with every turn, untilthe other Losers had finally decided to pull the plug.

And that's how they'dended up drunk in Richie's parent basement.

Only thing is, Richie is prettygood at holing his liquor. Years of sneaking off and getting drunk with Bevdoes that to a person. So he's feeling more pleasantly buzzed than anything,kinda jittery in his fingertips and uninhibited in his mind. Free and easy.

And Eddie.Well. He seemed okay at first. Talking a little fast and loud to Ben about theold record player while Richie and Mike ambled off to get snacks. But by thetime Richie and Mike get back, bowls of chips in their hands, Eddie has dozedoff on the couch.

"He okay?" Richieasks, setting his bowl down on the coffee table. Eddie looks like he simplydrifted off sitting up, his back slumped against the back of the couch and hischin tilted down towards his shoulder. Bev has settled next to him, and shetugs off her jacket and carefully places it over Eddie's chest.

"Yeah, he's alright,"she replies. "Just a little drunker than we thought."

Richie nudges Eddie's knee withhis own; Eddie stirs, makes a little 'hrrmph' noise, and tries and fails tolift his head, before falling back asleep.

"Good to see you're stillalive," Richie says. Then he flashes Bev a look like what should I dowith him?

"He can't go home likethis," Bev points out.

"Yeah, no shit."

"That can't becomfortable," Mike says, joining Richie's side, eyeing the awkward angleof Eddie's titled neck. Richie sighs, runs a hand through his hair. By thestairs, Bill jingles his keys and lifts his hand in a parting wave, beforeleaving, followed by Stan. It's only a reminder of how late it's getting - hisgaze finds the little window near the ceiling to his left, and it's a rectangleof black, tinted with grey moonlight.

"Ah, fuck it," Richiesays. "Guess Eddie's sleeping over tonight." And then he ducks down,slides a hand under Eddie's knees, the other under Eddie's back, and lifts himup bridal style.

He almost tips right over,because he's not particularly strong, but the good thing is that Eddie is notparticularly heavy, and Richie gains his footing again easily. Brings Eddieclose up to his chest, Eddie's head lolling against Richie's shoulder withanother little 'hrrpmh' noise. Richie squashes down a smile at how cute it is.

"Where are you takinghim?" asks Bev.

"I'll let him sleep on mybed," Richie explains, already crossing the room. "Then I'll comedown and we can watch that movie you were talking about. Don't eat all thechips while I'm gone."

"You're gonna carry him upthe stairs?" Bev calls after him.

"Uh, yeah? I'm fuckingripped, Bev."

And well, he almost drops Eddietwice, and takes three times as long to ascend the stairs as he normally does,but Richie makes it to the top with the two of them still intact.

Then, it's just a matter ofgetting him into Richie's room and lying him carefully on Richie's rumpledsheets. He tugs Eddie's shoes off, reaches over and plumps the pillows, and ashe pulls away, he almost misses the fact that two brown eyes are staring up athim.

"Hey." Richie smilesdown at Eddie's sleepy face, the curls that fan over Richie's dark pillow, thelittle crinkles by Eddie's eyes as his smiles back.

"Did you..." Eddiepauses, smushes half of his face into Richie's pillow, but Richie can still seethe way his smile turns cheeky, a glint in the brown eye that still looks athim. "Did you carry me up the stairs?"

"What -" That was thelast thing Richie was expecting. Eddie cackles at the startled look on Richie'sface, smothering it down into his pillow. "Yeah, I did actually."

"With those noodlearms?" Eddie asks, voice rising an octave through his laughter. He lookslike a little rumpled gremlin, giggling to himself, curled up on Richie's bed.It's annoyingly cute.

"Look, if you're just goingto bully me - " Richie turns to leave, only half meaning it. There's thesound of sheets rustling and then warm fingers curling around Richie's own andwith a rushed, "Wait!" Eddie pulls Richie back toward him.

Richie stumbles, spinningaround. His knees hit the side of the bed, and he looks down at Eddie who isnow kneeling and looking up at him. And due to their height difference, there'sa fair gap between their faces, but there's only an inch between their bodies.When Eddie breathes in, brown eyes searching Richie's own, Richie feels asthough he's breathing in too.

"Wait," Eddie repeats,a lot quieter this time. He lets go of Richie's hand and slowly slides hisfingers up Richie's forearm. God, it's the softest of touches, but Richie'sbreath catches in his throat, and his skin sparks wherever Eddie fingertipsgraze him. And Eddie doesn't stop until his hand is resting on Richie's bicep,and somewhere in Richie's mind he's aware that Eddie is just being funny. Thathe's feeling up Richie's arms to determine how strong he actually is. But thesoft fluttering expression on Eddie's face says otherwise. And instead of a joke,or an insult, all Eddie says is, "Stay."

And, well, Richie doesn't needto be told twice.

He scrambles up onto the bed,climbing over Eddie with such fervor that Eddie starts giggling again. AndRichie knows that he's tipsy, and that Eddie is drunk, and that neither of themare thinking straight, but how can he pass up the opportunity to lie in bedwith the boy he's been crushing on since forever? Plus, when they both settledown, on their sides, facing in each other in the middle, Eddie reaches over andrests his hand on Richie's bicep again, and Richie's pretty sure he made theright decision.

Eddie shuffles over a littlecloser, shortening the gap between them, and draws circles into the flesh ofRichie's arm with his finger. Smiles mischievously. "Can I tell you asecret?"

Richie resists the urge to reachover and touch Eddie too. "Go ahead."

Eddie trails his finger upRichie's shoulder, then boops Richie's nose with it. Giggles. "I likebeing drunk."

"Yeah?" Richie asks,amused.

"Yeah." Fuck, the wayhis eyes crinkle at the sides when he laughs, how his little nose scrunches up,and his lips part to show a row of perfect white teeth...it's so fucking cute.Richie feels a physical pain in his chest, lying there looking at him."I feel so...free. Like I could do anything. Like I could...I could kissyou or something."

Oh. Oh.

Eddie captures his bottom lip upbetween those perfect teeth, searches Richie's face with curious, excited,eyes. "Do you want to kiss me, Richie?"

Yes. Richie's mouth goes dry.Heart hammers. Yes. He does. He so, so does. Wants to lean over and press hismouth to Eddie's mouth, slides his lips over Eddie's lips, cup Eddie's face,thumb pressed over Eddie's freckles, roll Eddie onto his back and draw littlegasps from his throat.

"I, um," Richie'svoice breaks, like a fucking tween going through puberty. He clears his throatand gives Eddie a crooked smile. "You're drunk, Eds."

"I want to," Eddiecontinues, like Richie hadn't spoken. "I want to kiss you. I think aboutit all the time."

Richie feelslike he's about to spontaneously combust. Eddie's drunk, he has toremind himself, as his hopes skyrocket into the ceiling, he's drunk hedoesn't mean this.

"I think about other thingstoo," Eddie whispers, suggestive.

"Oh, god," Richiegroans. They are so not going there. Not right now, not like this."Eddie, you're so fucking drunk. We can't...I'm not gonna let you dosomething you'll regret."

A little crease cuts betweenEddie's brow, frowns. "So you don't want to kiss me?"

"No, I do -" Ohshit. Eddie's entire face lights up. Richie's entire face burns red. "I -I um. Fuck, Eddie, I'm not gonna kiss you while you're drunk, okay? I respectyou too much."

"Oh," says Eddieflatly, disappointed. Then he softens, and his hand finds Richie's cheek."Oh. Oh, Richie. You're so sweet." Brushes his thumb beneathRichie's eye. "Such a gentleman."

Richie snorts, his skin aflamebeneath Eddie's palm. "Shut up."

Eddie giggles, and then shuffleseven closer. Richie can feel their body heat burning up together in the slightgap between them, can feel Eddie's calf brush against his own. "Would youkiss me when I'm sober?"

"If you still wantto," Richie says, "then yeah. Yes. I would."

"Okay." Eddie beams.He pulls his hand away from Richie's cheek and nestles down into his pillow,closes his eyes. "Guess I better sober up then."

"You're going tosleep?"

"Yeah." Eddie nestlesdown into the mattress even further, shuffles even closer. Nudges his legsagainst Richie's, like he's trying to slot between them. "Cuddle me?"

And cuddling's okay, right? Ohwhatever, too late. Richie's already lifting his arm up and Eddie's pressinghis face into Richie's chest, head slotting perfectly beneath Richie's chin.Like he's made to be there. Richie wraps his arm around Eddie's back, holdinghim close. And he does something very self-indulgent. He presses his face intoEddie's hair. It tickles, soft and light against Richie's face, and it smellskinda fruity and sweet, a bit like apples. Richie inhales deeply, feels Eddiecurl an arm around his waist. And then he presses a kiss there, into Eddie'shair. So soft and quick it's barely a kiss at all.

But Eddie sighs contently, likehe feels that little expression of affection, and nuzzles his face intoRichie's chest happily.

"Night, Eds," Richiesays, gently. He's going to have to get himself out of here in a moment, onceEddie dozes off again, to meet back up with the others downstairs. But rightnow he's stupidly content, all wrapped up with the boy of his fucking dreams,feels floaty and light and tipsy and happy.

"Night, Richie," Eddiemumbles. He lifts his head sleepily to nose at the underside of Richie's jaw,and Richie curls his fingers into the back of Eddie's hair carefully, ready topull him off in case he tries to drunkenly kiss him or something, but Eddiedoesn't push it. Just noses there affectionately before burying his face backinto Richie's chest. "I love you."

"Yeah," Richie sighs, closing his own eyes, patting Eddie's head.

And then the words sink in.

His eyes snap open.

Wait - WHAT.

#reddie #ask #mine #writing #this is dumb gfhjdfkjskd #also wow? me writing pining richie? groundbreaking #Anonymous

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