#yes I did mask up but I looked hot outside pre-show so obviously had to document it

[lavender-femme]

🍒I want you on top of me like cherry🍒

MEN | MINORS | TERFS DNI I’LL KILL YOU :)

[rulesofthebeneath]

masters of our fates- chapter 2

@ajaysbhandari @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @awkwardalbatros @ravenclawpokegirl25 @itsbrindleybinch

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706489/chapters/51862954

As soon as Ajay merged onto the highway, he pressed the button that turned on the radio. It was tuned to talk radio, but before Grace could side-eye him he quickly switched over to the CD player, which instantly started playing a song off the Wicked soundtrack. It was Grace’s turn to raise her eyebrows.

“You like musicals?” she asked.

“Love them,” he replied. He started humming along with the singers.

“Me too,” Grace admitted. “I cried the first time I saw Wicked.”

Ajay bit his lip. “Did you do theatre? Pre-diagnosis, I mean.”

“Oh, I was such a diva. There was no getting me out of the spotlight,” Grace recalled with a laugh. 

“I think I saw that part of you in support group,” Ajay said. “You were zoned out for most of it, but it seemed like whenever I said something you had to steal my spotlight.” He smiled so she’d know he was teasing, but she still felt a wave of insecurity go through her.

“Yeah, I… don’t know what that was all about. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

Ajay shook his head. “No, don’t apologize. Sometimes I need to be put in my place.”

Grace snorted, but didn’t say anything further. They rode along, listening to the song, until the song switched, and Ajay apparently couldn’t contain himself to just humming anymore.

“One short day in the Emerald City…” he sang along with the chorus on the soundtrack. As soon as Grace turned to look at him, he raised his eyebrows: a clear invitation.

She rolled her eyes, but caved in.

“One short day in the Emerald City. One short day, full of so much to do,” she sang along shyly, fully aware that her weakened voice couldn’t compare with his, or with what he was used to hearing.

But he didn’t seem to care.

“Every way that you look in the city, there’s something exquisite you’ll want to visit before the day’s through,” he sang, his eyes trained on the road but a stunning grin spreading across his face. 

“There are buildings tall as Quoxwood trees,” Grace sang again, hesitantly.

“Dress salons,” Ajay added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Libraries,” Grace half-laughed.

“Palaces!” Ajay squeaked, imitating Glinda’s peppy voice, and Grace lost the next line to a fit of giggles.

“There are wonders like I’ve never seen,” Ajay sang next, recovering more quickly than Grace could.

“It’s all grand,” sang Grace, her voice cracking on the top note. In the embarrassment, she lost her breath, and with it all focus on the singing.

Ajay noticed, and kept one eye on her careful breathing as he merged off the highway. He turned the music down, but not all the way off.

Grace tried to stop herself from audibly gasping for air, but it was a close thing. She didn’t want Ajay to see her like that, so weak.

Damn lungs, she thought to herself. Embarrassing her in front of somebody she found herself really wanting to impress, for some reason.

He pulled into the diner’s parking lot, and looked over at her. She could feel the concern in his gaze, and without looking at him, she waved him off while taking carefully controlled breaths from her cannula.

“I’m… fine… not… dying…” she said between breaths, and relief crossed Ajay’s face.

“Do you need anything? Um, water or something?”

He was clearly out of his depth.

“No… just… one… second…” Grace said, still wheezing slightly. She gripped the edge of the seat tightly as she tried to force the air into her lungs, tried to keep their pathetic wheezing and trembling to a minimum. It took her more than the one second she’d asked for, but eventually her lungs were back under autonomous control.

She sat up and saw Ajay looking at her, pity clear on his face.

“No,” she said, her voice embarrassingly faint but her will strong enough to make up for it. She cleared her throat. “No,” she said again. “None of that. Do you like it when people look at you like that when they find out about your leg?”

“I-- no,” Ajay conceded, shifting his gaze away from her. “I’m sorry. I was just worried.”

“I’m fine,” Grace said, her guard shooting back up. “No need to worry.”

“Okay.” With that, Ajay got out of the car. Grace followed suit, and the two walked into the diner and were seated as soon as they got there by an older lady. They each ordered hot tea and a stack of pancakes, and then Grace saw Ajay’s eyes fixed on her again.

“What?”

“Does that happen a lot?” he asked.

Grace sighed. “Not anymore. It used to happen a ton before I started taking the medicine I’m on now.”

“Oh,” he said. 

Grace looked down at her hands. She tried to figure out how to break the tension, but eventually it was Ajay speaking up again that did it.

“So, anyways. Grace. What’s your last name?”

It was clear he was just fishing around for something to say, but Grace decided to humor him.

“Lee,” she said. “Short and sweet. What’s yours?”

“Bhandari,” he said. “Neither short nor sweet. Do you have any siblings?”

“My twin brother goes to Berry,” she said. “He was running against Rory for student body president last year. Now he’s VP.”

“Oh, you’re James’ sister?” 

“Um. Yes?” she said, a question masking the surprise in her words. “How do you know my brother?”

“I don’t know him well, it’s just that I was Rory’s campaign manager,” he said. 

“Oh, so you’re who I have to thank for all the times he woke me up in the middle of the night to brainstorm campaign ideas.”

Ajay laughed. “Only if that means you’re who I have to thank for his pool noodle sword fight during Rory’s flash mob,”

Grace giggled. “Guilty as charged. Now, do you have any siblings?”

“My little brother, Mohit.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s eight.”

“Wow, that’s quite the age difference.”

“Yeah, really. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s my nephew or something, not my brother. I guess once we’re older it’ll stop feeling like that, but since I basically parented him most of last year…” he trailed off, a guarded look on his face. 

They sat in silence while Grace tried desperately to find something to ease the tension.

“Taking care of your brother and running a campaign during your junior year, sounds stressful,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

He loosened up a little.

“It was. I’m glad the school year is over, even though I really do like school. It was just hard to keep up with everything. Especially math.”

“You don’t like math?” Grace asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“More like math doesn’t like me,” Ajay mumbled, punctuating the sentence with a self-deprecating laugh.

It was a nice laugh.

Shut up, Grace told her brain.

“Enough about me,” Ajay said. “Tell me about you. What’s your story?”

Grace sighed.

“Well, I was diagnosed with stage four thyroid cancer when I was thirteen, and then–”

He cut her off. “No, no, not your Cancer Story. Just your normal story.”

“My normal story?”

“Yeah. Like where you were born, what your hopes and dreams are, your favorite color, things like that.”

Grace was bewildered. Nobody had asked her that in a while. Nowadays, they just saw her cannula and wanted to know why she had to use it. A warm, genuine smile grew on her face, and a giddy bubbly feeling rose up inside her.

“Uh, well, where do I start? I was born in England,” she said, watching his carefully neutral expression.

“England?” he asked, an eyebrow raised and a slight tinge of surprise. “I didn’t know you guys were British.”

“My parents aren’t, just me and James. Our birth parents died when we were really young and our other relatives gave us up for adoption.”

“Oh, you’re adopted. I guess that makes sense. I was about to say that you don’t have an accent at all.”

“Nope, no accent for me. I always kind of thought that would be cool to have a British accent.”

“You’d certainly be able to do a lot of Shakespeare,” Ajay remarked.

Grace nodded. “I never really got the hang of Shakespeare. Or British accents, for that matter.”

“It’s definitely hard to master. So, you said that you used to act?”

“Yes, and I was a complete spotlight hog,” Grace said. “You can ask Rory. I used to make James watch little plays that Rory and I wrote when we were kids. I don’t think they’ve ever forgotten the roles that I’d force them into.”

The waitress reappeared then, holding two plates of delicious-looking pancakes. Grace dug in eagerly, the hunger from not eating breakfast that morning overtaking her.

“So what about you?” Grace asked Ajay through a mouthful of pancakes. “What do you do? Besides hating math.”

“I’m actually the director of the shows we do at Berry,” he said, neatly cutting his pancakes into squares. “I’ve always loved directing, and it’s really great of the theatre teacher to let me have so much control over the productions. I do some directing outside of school, too.”

“Wait, you’re the Berry High student director?” Grace asked, surprised.

“Yeah?”

“So you’re the one who convinced the school to use the play as a fundraiser for Rory’s mom.”

Ajay started to look a little sheepish. “Yes, that was me.”

“Wow, Ajay,” Grace said, her admiration for him growing tenfold. “I don’t think I have to tell you how much that helped them.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, his face turning red. “I mean, obviously it was a big deal for the Silvas, but it was the least I could do. A family friend selflessly helped us out when I was first getting used to my new leg, so it was only fair to pass the kindness on.”

Grace cocked her head, studying him. His eyes were trained on the table, his hands busying themselves with the pancakes. It was clear that he hadn’t started the fundraiser so he could get recognition, but that he actually had genuinely wanted to help someone in need. 

You don’t see that much anymore, Grace thought. The world needs more people like that.

Ajay must have felt her eyes on him, so he looked up and matched her gaze at last.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Grace countered, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring. “You were staring at me during the whole meeting.”

“Ah, yes. Well at first it was because you were new, because I’ve never seen you in group before. Then by the end, it was because you’d challenged me and argued with me.”

“I’m still sorry about that.”

“I still don’t want you to be sorry about it,” Ajay said. “I like that. I like people who aren’t afraid of talking about the hard stuff.”

Grace shrugged. “Well, when you’ve been dying for three years straight, it’s hard to have a filter about stuff like death. Thinking about that stuff is as natural as a heartbeat for me.”

“Me too,” Ajay admitted, “but I think that’s less because of the cancer and more because I spent middle school stumbling around in a depressive haze.”

“That’s what I do now,” Grace said with a slight grin. “That’s why James told me to go get a life. He’s tired of me just sitting around the house binge-watching reality TV.”

“And your version of getting a life is hanging around some stuck-up director from support group?”

Grace rolled her eyes, casting her eyes around the diner as she tried to come up with a response. The only feeling she could register was nostalgia, as she took in the tiled floor, the old-fashioned booths and the jukebox in the corner. 

“God, I miss this place,” she said without thinking.

“Oh, I know,” Ajay replied, stopping to take a sip out of his mug. “I think the old owners sold it a few years ago, and it just doesn’t quite have its old charm anymore.”

That’s my fault, Grace thought, and she bit her lip. She was the reason her parents had sold the diner, maybe even the reason they weren’t happy anymore. They tried to hide it from her, but she saw how exhausted her dad was after those long shifts. She saw the circles under her mom’s eyes that never went away.

She snapped back into the present and Ajay’s eyes were on her. He looked concerned, and she realized that he must have said something to her.

“Um…” she said, not knowing how to reply. 

“Nevermind,” Ajay said, shaking his head. 

Grace smiled shyly, appreciating the out. “So, should we split the check?”

“That seems fair,” Ajay agreed. The two examined the bill and paid for their respective parts at the register, and then before they knew it, they were back out in the oppressively hot afternoon.

Grace looked down at her hands. “I don’t want to go home yet,” she said. 

Ajay laughed. “Enjoying my company too much?”

“Enjoying the sunshine too much. I haven’t been outside in weeks.”

“Well, then I know where we have to go!” Ajay said, leading Grace towards his car.

She got in. “Is it the park?” she asked.

“I can’t share all my secrets,” he said again, causing Grace to roll her eyes.

A few minutes later, Ajay parked his car in a lot riddled with fallen twigs and green leaves.

“You brought me to the park,” Grace deadpanned.

“You wanted more sunshine,” Ajay pointed out. “I’m just trying to fulfill your request.”

Grace sighed and made for the park’s entrance, Ajay trailing behind her.

“So what was that? At the diner?”

“It was nothing.”

“It clearly wasn’t nothing,” Ajay argued back, cornering Grace in the conversation.

“I’ve already told you too much about myself.”

“That’s not true at all. Only once in our hour-long conversation did I see anything resembling an emotion.”

“Oh? When was that? You’ll have to tell me so I don’t do it again.”

Grace beelined for a bench, the small amount of walking having already exhausted her. Once she reached it, she tried not to collapse. Ajay sat down next to her, his eyes on her, his expression expectant. She knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

“My parents were the old owners of the Golden Griddle,” she said quietly. “They gave it up because they couldn’t afford both me and the restaurateur lifestyle.”

“Shit,” Ajay cursed quietly. “That’s… shit.”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “I took away their dreams. If I’d just died, yknow…”

“They’d have missed you,” Ajay said, and Grace had to admit he made a good point. But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“They’d have gotten over it,” she said, and Ajay didn’t look like he had a response to that, so the conversation lapsed into silence.

“My parents are divorced,” he offered, out of the blue. “I know it’s because of me, even though they say it’s not.”

“Ajay, I’m sure it’s not--”

“It was because they were always arguing about money,” he said, cutting her off. “My chemo, radiation, surgeries and the new leg must’ve cost… I don’t even know.”

Grace pressed her lips together; it was her turn to not know what to say. She wrung her hands together, silent until he decided to speak again.

“So not only did I ruin their marriage, I also completely ruined Mohit’s life. He should be able to grow up with both his parents, but instead he only sees Dad on weekends. Objectively, I caused that to happen.”

“You can’t control the fact that you had cancer, though,” Grace pointed out. “And you can’t control the fact that the treatments cost a lot.”

“I should never have complained about my knee,” he said with a laugh. “That’s what got us into this mess. I should’ve just shut up about it.”

 “You would’ve died,” Grace said, slowly realizing how much she didn’t want that to happen.

Ajay shrugged. “And saved them a ton of medical expenses.”

“But if you’d died, it would’ve hurt Mohit. He’s so young, it wouldn’t be fair to put him through that.”

“You can’t say your family would get over your death and then turn around and say that to me, though. It’s the same thing. If my death would hurt my brother, your death would hurt your brother just as much.”

Grace huffed. “I guess. Sometimes I think, though, maybe it would’ve been better if I’d died a year or so ago. Before they got me into the clinical trial I’m on. They’re still paying a ton for my medication, and I’m still not getting any better. It seems like a waste of time and money because I’m still going to die young anyway.”

It took Ajay a few minutes to come up with a reply, but when he did, Grace almost smiled. Before long she found herself lost in the conversation, which jumped from morose topic to morose topic. By the time the sun set hours later, still sitting beside Ajay on the wooden park bench, she had gotten a little lost in him too.

It was freeing for a moment-- to do all those things normal teenagers did, get crushes and have friends and go out to the park-- until reality came crashing back to her. This was only temporary. She was just living on borrowed time, until her miracle drug stopped working, until the cancer spread to her brain and made her into a zombie. She couldn’t do that to him. But damn, having let her walls down for the first time was such a rush. Over the course of their conversation, she’d never felt so understood.

But he wasn’t dying, and she was. That was something that would always strain their relationship. So Grace turned it off. She shut down that part of her brain that made her want to giggle when he looked at her, that made her desperately want to reach out and put her hand on top of his.

“I have to get home,” she said abruptly. Ajay looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything until they’d gotten to the car. Grace walked a little slower than usual, under the excuse of being tired, but she really wanted to draw the night out longer, the one night where she had felt normal.

“At least give me your number,” he said. “It was nice to talk to someone who gets it. I don’t really talk to many other survivors, and it was a good conversation.”

Grace decided she’d allow herself that. A shining chance at feeling normal again. And if she was completely honest with herself, she couldn’t turn down the opportunity to talk to him again.

“Ok, fine, give me your phone.”

When he smiled, her dimmed world lit up just a little, but she ignored the way her heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t time for that.

By the time he pulled up at her house, though, her thoughts were pitch black again, so she had to shut them all out. It was her best coping strategy, a suit of armour to shield her from the gnawing pain the words could cause.

“Goodnight, Grace,” Ajay said, but she could barely hear him. 

“Goodnight,” she forced herself to say, and then she went into her house. Not having the energy to talk to her parents or James, she just forced a sleepy smile, told them she was tired, and headed off to her room. She locked the door, turned all the lights off, changed out her oxygen canister to one that would let her make it through the night, and tried not to think.

[itfandomsecretsanta]

A Gift For You

Reddie/Platonic Steddie (2017 Version) for Bailey, @reddie-to-rock from @legen-waitforit-derry

Happy Holidays, Bailey! I hope you enjoy this small fic I wrote for you and I apologise for any mistakes I made and didn’t notice in advance! Enjoy!

Derry really wasn’t a beautiful place by any means. Sure it had its perks with the Quarry or the green hills behind the Uris house, but Eddie Kaspbrak was sure no one would call Derry of all places wonderful or even breathtaking. He himself begged to differ when wintertime came. Especially with everything covered by a white duvet of snow. Even the muddy grounds of the Barrens appeared to be straight out of a painting. Yes, in this time of the year even he appreciated this wretched town that had done him so many wrongs already. A-aachoo! Wearing a miserable expression Eddie grabbed another tissue from his nightstand. Why did he have to get sick just now? Wistfully, he glanced out of the window, where the swirling snowflakes reminded him of what he’d miss. 

Of course Stan had promised to visit sometimes, but due to his Dad being the Rabbi the Uris family, including their son, were pretty much occupied in this stressful time of the year. Hanukkah had to be perfect. Just like everything had to be perfect for Rabbi Uris. Sometimes Eddie thought he was the reason behind Stan being so keen on having everything structured and neat, but he knew that this was a topic his friend was prone to avoid. So he opted for silent support, by structuring their movie nights together to the point. At first their evenings together had been more of convenience. Funnily enough Stan was the only one of his friends his mother somewhat approved of. Richie with his dirty jokes and passes on her was deemed the worst. Though Bill with his blooming phantasy -“that would certainly mean danger one day, Eddie you know that!”-was even more of a threat to her fragile little boy.

But soon enough it became a tradition and he’d never expected to see the quieter boy so outgoing -he had been Richie’s best friend of course he had to be snarky- still he was surprised at how much Stan came out of his shell when it was just the two of them. Their relationship was different than to the other boys, Bill was wordlessly deemed their impeccable leader and Richie would never admit any weakness. Just joke about it and the problem would vanish. 

Everybody seemed to be rushing anywhere in this time of the year. Not that Eddie couldn’t relate to this. He’d secretly looked forward to certain activities with his friends too. The four of them always spent winter holidays together. Despite Richie’s bragging that he’d not be available in the future. Even thinking back he rolled his eyes, his muscles tensing slightly. Last year Richie had claimed he’d just be taking a mistletoe with him and get the one he liked to make out with him. Stan and Bill had mocked him for it. Eddie had remained quiet. A strange feeling building up in the pit of his stomach.

Anyways, despite that feeling he had been certain that the four of them would be doing their usual activities this year too. And really looked forward to them. Not particularly the Snowball Fights, truthfully he despised them. Partly, because he never really got the hang out of forming stabile ones like Richie could. - The bespectacled boy had of course offered to teach him, but he hated being always seen as the weak one, the small child who needed help and couldn’t do anything on his own. And partly because getting hit in the face with a snowball was just so disgusting, unsanatary, not nice. The activity he’d miss the most this year however, would be sleighriding.

The boys, Bill, Stan, Richie and himself, had started this tradition when they were eight on the hills behind Stan’s house. All four of them had squeezed on the big sleigh Mrs. Denbrough gave them with a smile and the order to have fun. And boy, did they. So much that they begged Mrs. Denbrough to let them borrow the sleigh almost every day until the remains of snow had drastically decreased and they struggled to slide down with the grass underneath the runner. But they had taken up that  new activity the year after that, and the year after that and… it had obviously become a nice tradition. Though with all the boys growing, especially Richie and Bill who were towering over him now, they couldn’t fit on one sleigh anymore. Not without countless bruises and people falling off during the ride. So last year, they had agreed to team up for  sleighriding.

When Stan asked Eddie to be his partner, Richie had cheekily cut in, using his favourite voice at the time, a poor attempt of an Irish police officer: “Notch so fast, Staneyboy. Ya’re not a man yet like Bill and I are. So it’s only logical dat it’s always a small'one”, he gestured to Eddie and Stan, “and a big man together.”

Stan had snorted, “My name literally rhymes with man and that’s closer to being one than you’ll ever be.” - “Oh is Stan the Man pissed off? I’ll prove you how much of a man I am. I can just show you my wa-”, Richie promptly retorted. Oh no. When Stanley and Richie had really started bickering they were hard to break up. Sometimes Eddie wondered how they had become such close friends despite their clashing personalities, but then again maybe that’s what friendship was all about. Being able to put up with each others shit. Stan and Richie were the prime example of that.

Fortunately, Bill had recognized the problem before it escalated and interrupted Richie: “Wanna join my team, Stan?”, he suggested, shooting an apologising look to Eddie who was stuck with Richie now, “first team at the sleigh gets the first ride”

And really Bill’s nonverbal apology was expendable. Pressed against Richie’s chest, the taller boy holding him close, he felt as safe as he never did before, all the while enjoying the sentiment of freedom with the wind blowing in their reddened faces. Bliss. From them on Eddie voluntarily rode with Richie. Not that anybody else minded. Still a certain shift in their friendship had occurred that day, something that none of them could exactly pinpoint, it was simply just there. And so Eddie saw Richie less as the annoying Trashmouth he’d occasionally complain about to Stanley and more as somebody who he’d be free with and still feel protected. Someone who didn’t treat him like a fragile doll, but honestly cared for him nonetheless.

For sure, things hadn’t changed that much. It was just Richie and he’d never admit the way his heartbeat accelerated when he leaned against his chest. Only due to the adrenaline he told himself. But the feeling stayed the same when their hands brushed in the movies, reaching for popcorn or when the taller boy wrestled him down in a play fight -always carefully though.

And overall, Eddie just really longed for another sleighride with Richie where it wouldn’t be weird or weak to snuggle up to the other boy. Miserably, he coughed. Well, he could forget about that now. Outside of his window the snowflakes were still dancing to a symphony he was forbidden from perceiving inside. He sighed. His Mum would be home soon. Which meant more medicine. And she had already alluded that the bitter liquid whose name he couldn’t pronounce would be one of those. 

He briefly considered not taking any of that. But that just wouldn’t do. “You need your medicine, my boy” His mother constantly reminded him of that. He was ripped out of his thoughts by a loud tapping noise. For a second he thought it must have been his mother and chuckled at the imagination of her climbing up to his window. The laughing soon enough turned into a coughing fit though. He really hated being sick. He thought while standing up to open the window.

“Stan?” He called, but realised his mistake before he even finished  the name. “Oh Richie.” A quick look of hurt flashed over his friend’s face, but Richie quickly masked it with a big smile and a joke:“ Were you expecting someone else, Eds? Now I’m always glad to see you get some, but you could do much better than Stan the Man.” He propped himself down on Eddie’s bed, ditching his wet shoes at the window.

Before, Eddie could even open his mouth for a retort, Richie had impulsively layed his hand onto his forehead. A concerned expression evident on his face: “Damn, Eds. You’re so hot!” Eddie winked despite himself: “I know, thanks”, he couldn’t help but making the inevitable joke, though he find a certain irony in being the one to make it. Instead of laughing like Eddie expected him to, Richie just went beet red. “Yeah..right…as if”, he stammered awkwardly.

Just as Eddie was about to make some remark to deter the strange awkwardness. Richie, who was never at loss for words, for once speechless astonished him. The weird pause didn’t last that long however. And soon enough his taller friend snapped back to his usual bubbly self. Though his cheeks were still slightly flushed, but Eddie didn’t doubt that his own face was tinged in a pink tone too.

“Here”, Richie said more quietly than usual, while handing him a golden box. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows, he impatiently motioned for him to look inside: “I swear there’ nothing in there that jumps out at you, though that’d be fun, I should try it with Stan…”, he started muttering to himself. His focus was on Eddie again, when the smaller boy carefully lifted the lid. “Uhh…biscuits?” The confusion on his face was clearly evident.

In his excitement Richie completely overlooked it though. “Yeah! And here’s also another present, but it’ll melt so it doesn’t really count. I’m bringing you something for every day of pre-X-mas fun you’ll miss while staying inside!”, he announced with a proud smile, “But you see… I was baking these myself with an old recipe from grandma…her handwriting was really sloppy, so I might have had it in for a bit too long.”, unhappily he glanced down at the partly burnt treats. “I brought you some snow too though. So you can exercise making snowballs.”, he piped up quickly with a wink. “You’ll need it if you want to have a chance at beating me next year.”

Eddie coughed. Overwhelmed with the wave of information. “Just shut up, Richie and let me thank you for the biscuits.” The smaller boy rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help feeling giddy at the sweet gesture. “And what are you gonna bring me in the next few days?”, he pondered aloud, “I can’t think of that many things Christmas related.”

Richie winked at him once again. “Maybe I’ll get your Mum to let you out earlier. I’m sure if I gave her a kiss…” He grimaced at Richie’s sorry  attempt of a joke. “Alright well, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Eds! In fact, I’ve already gotten your object for tomorrow with me right now, but you’ll only get it after you’ve had a good nice rest today.”

Eddie tried. He really tried his best at glaring at the other boy, he knew how impatient Eddie could be, especially with surprises and still he had to tease him like that. But he found himself unable to. Richie Tozier just looked so mischievious and joyful and pretty. Pretty? Yes, somehow in just this particular lighting with that familiar expression on his face he was allowed to consider his friend pretty. He was sick after all.

“Is that supposed to be your angry face?”, Richie promptly laughed, “Cause it’s not working. You’re way too cute, Eds.” He reached over to ruffle his hair, only for the smaller boy to groan. “Don’t call me Eds! Richie how often…”

He interrupted his own sentence, when Richie stood up. “As much as I’d love to hear your rant, I’ve got to go now. Church calls for its best sinner”, he rolled his eyes, “Hope you enjoy your presents though” Richie had already moved to the window during his explanations. “Wait!”, Eddie called out, too loud seeing as the irritating scratch in his throat made its presence known once more. Expectatantly, Richie walked back towards Eddie’s bed. With a small gesture Eddie beckoned him to come closer. And he surprised both of them when he spread out his arms to pull the bespectacled boy into a hug. “Thank you”, he softly spoke in Richie’s ear. Their chests pressed against each other in the tight embrace. It should have been somewhat uncomfortable, but Eddie who was focussing on Richie’s bodies against his didn’t want to let go nonetheless. Against all expectations it was Richie who pulled back, after first relaxing into the hug. “Eddie, no! The germs!”

Utterly caught off guard by that explanation the sick boy was quick to pull back. His hands sweaty. Not from the fever. And his face equally as pink as Richie’s. “I’m sorry. Hope you don’t get sick ‘cause of me.”, he apologized guiltily.

Richie stared at him in confusion. He had leaned over him on his bed as a result of his more quiet voice. “What-? No! I mean my germs. You really must be sick! Otherwise you wouldn’t let me anywhere near you like that!” At this Eddie let out a relieved chuckle. Richie really was much more considerate than he would have assumed before.

With a smirk on his lips he replied: “I’m pretty sure there are no germs left on your body, with all the trash in your mouth.” Strangely enough all the talk of bacteria didn’t get him as anxious as usual, but maybe that was also because of Richie being so close to him. His eyes piercing into his skull. “Good one”, his friend gratulated him. “I know”, Eddie piped up, feeling confident with their usual banter. Still he calmly breathed in before daring to ask the next question: “So are you going to accept your thank you hug, or not?”

With a brightly flushed head, Richie nodded fast. And so they found themselves in a long-lasting embrace again. Truly, something he couldn’t have hoped for this Christmas. Maybe this year it wouldn’t be that bad despite his illness.

What ensured him in that was a small but meaningful discovery he had made, shortly after Richie had left for church with a considerable lateness. A small green twig under the blanket of his bed, adorned with a nice ribbon. A mistletoe. And the small paper bound to it saying “Merry X-mas, Eds”. It made him sure of what was to come. Oh Tozier. Don’t think I don’t know what you had planned. Strangely, enough he didn’t even mind the imagination that much. Somehow a warmth had spread in his body that didn’t stem from his illness at all. Save to say he was definitely looking forward to Richie’s next  visit. Maybe, just maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t suppress the urge to to smile whenever he did as much as think about the other boy.