[ Eddie likes it when Richie laughs–he's just usually too busy defending himself for one reason or another to appreciate it, truly, and it's nice to see now, even if he's fairly certain that he's the one being laughed at here. He's quickly distracted, though, by a kiss, and he can't help but lean into it, stretching up onto his toes as Richie pulls back before he finally lets him go.
The brief bit of heated contact as Richie's fingers brush against his skin, just barely, is enough to make Eddie exhale shakily, one hand fisted in Richie's shirt. It takes him a second for what he's saying to register, although there's another distraction as he kisses him again–this time down his cheek, past the scar Bowers left, down his neck. ]
I just–I like you. I don't know. I– [ A thought occurs to him. ] Well, I mean, I guess there's... [ He pauses, flushing. ] I mean, it's not really, uh, relevant?
no subject
The brief bit of heated contact as Richie's fingers brush against his skin, just barely, is enough to make Eddie exhale shakily, one hand fisted in Richie's shirt. It takes him a second for what he's saying to register, although there's another distraction as he kisses him again–this time down his cheek, past the scar Bowers left, down his neck. ]
I just–I like you. I don't know. I– [ A thought occurs to him. ] Well, I mean, I guess there's... [ He pauses, flushing. ] I mean, it's not really, uh, relevant?