Meet Me at the Old Swing Set


Connor sat on Richie’s bed. He accepted the cigarette that was passed his way.

"Henry would kill me if he knew I was here.” He took a deep drag of the cigarette. That made Richie laugh, loud and boisterous.

“What? It’s true.” Connor passes the cigarette back.

“Well, I know that. It's just… your cousin would kill you if he knew about us.” That was also true.


Richie and Connor got together every summer since they were 13. Richie was raw from Pennywise and quite frankly wanted a warm body to distract him. It started as just making out but it evolved into a relationship. During the school years they exchanged letters, but they were few and far between. They really came together in Richie’s room, where the smoke covered their vulnerability and the awkwardness melted off with their lips colliding.


Connor said it was just experimenting… every summer. Richie said nothing, and that in itself was saying everything. He brushed it off with a laugh, a puff of the cigarette, and a clash of teeth.


Richie took Connor’s jaw in his hand. Their foreheads pressed together. “Who cares about Henry anyways?” Lips then pressed together. Both of them needed to use chapstick. Connor occasionally stole his mothers rouge, but that did nothing for the dryness of his lips. Connors eyes flutter open as he presses play on the tape player. Queen immediately filled the room.


Connor broke the kiss long enough to say, “Dude, this is trash.” Richie pushed him on his back.


“This is top of the line! ‘A Night at the Opera’.” Connor just pulled Richie’s hair to get him to go back to kissing. Bodies flush together. It was the closest to heaven Richie would get, the closest he could fly to the sun without risking getting burnt. At least until Connor excused himself for a bit.


Stars swallow themselves when they die. Richie always said he shone like a star, so if he was going to die it was going to be an explosion. Well, he is being a bit dramatic. Henry wouldn’t actually kill him, but if he found out that his little cousin was out sucking face with a loser; a boy, well he would get the beating of a lifetime. So if he is risking the belt, he might as well make it worth it.


That’s what he reminded himself as he snuck into Maggie’s room to pocket some makeup. There were no girls in Henry’s house, so his best bet was theft. He felt sick to his stomach doing it, but Henry would want him to man up.


Could he be a man with a pocket full of eyeshadow?


”Connor! Be a dear and hurry. The bed is so cold…” Richie falsed a ‘damsel in distress’ voice. It was oddly endearing.


”I… I am hurrin’,” he called back in a slight panic. Shit shit shit. Do not get catch feels… or get caught. He rushes back. The minute he gets back he dropped his jacket filled with the stolen goods. He quickly smashed his face to Richie but just as quickly it was broke.


”Are you alright?” he asked.


Rich,” he was quickly cut off by a rough: ”Do not call me Rich,” from Richie.


”Fine then, Richie. We dont do this.”


Richie raised his voice, “we dont do what, exactly? Feelings? We both know that is bullshit.” When there was no response, he just told Connor to get out and then made his way to the old park for a smoke.


At the end of the street, Eddie lies awake, tormented by this awful recurring nightmare. He didn't even fully understand it. Him and Rich sat on this plush blanket at the old park near the middle school. In the middle of this blanket was a strawberry cake with heaps of pink frosting. 12 candles lay lit on his side of the cake. Richie’s side was half eaten, his hands covered in pink cake guts as he went for more. He was a lovely mess that made Eddie ache in ways his 15 year old brain couldn't wouldnt understand. His gaze stays on Richie, craving the disgusting sweet that lie between them. Then a little red balloon floats from behind Richie’s head.


His breathing was heavy as moonlight filtered from the widow above his head. Why did this dream haunt him so? He wasn't still scared of It… Right? Certainly not that scared. It had been 3 years and this dream started recently. Was he scared of Richie? He couldn't be scared of his best friend, his ride or die, his world. Richie was the earth and Eddie was the moon, constantly orbiting him. Richie, Richie, Richie…


Da Vinci’s The Last Supper stared at him from his dark paneled walls. He would get up and stretch his legs, but that would risk his mother hearing. Anything outside that door worried his mother. However, there was little risk in the window. It was a surprisingly easy open and a surprisingly easy out.


His old chuck taylors from middle school carried him to that familiar park. He could hear the creaking of the chain from the swing set. He isnt sure why he came there. It wasnt somewhere he went often, it just felt right.


Richie heard his breathing, ragged and slow like he had been running, before he saw Eddie. Eddie had on red, flannel pj pants and an old band shirt stolen straight from Bill’s wardrobe.


”Eds? It's late. What— what the hell are you doing out?” he said, voice deep from not talking for hours. He put his cigarette out on the chains of the swings.


He sat on the swing next to him, “couldn't sleep.”


”Those nightmares still botherin’ you?” Eddie’s lack of response was response enough, “did you at least remember it this time?”


Eddie shakes his head. It would be mortifying to tell Rich he dreams of him. So, he never did. It was— admittedly— a lousy lie, but it was the simplest.


The swing creaked and groaned under their weight. The air was cold and wet. The morning would be adorn with drops of dew on every blade of grass.


Richie was much better dressed, with his boring black jacket and baggy jeans. He was going through a phase and Eddie hated it. He was used to the sight of colorful button-ups and graphic tees, but lately Richie had been utterly devoid of color. It was like a star dying out.


”My mom would kill me if she knew I was out here.” His voice was quiet, he even looked behind himself as if his mother was behind him, ready strike.


”She wont know. You know?” It was a softer moment between them. They both kept walls up so high they made China blush, so these moments were few and far between.