The school hallway was quiet, the usual chaos replaced by the rare calm of skipped classes. The Losers had claimed their usual corner near the lockers, far enough from prying eyes to feel like their own secret hideaway. Richie and Eddie, as always, had gravitated toward the window, where their bickering could carry on uninterrupted.

But today, something shifted. Their argument, as trivial as it began, took on an edge that Richie couldn’t quite suppress. Before he knew it, he’d sprung to his feet, his hand gripping Eddie’s wrist as he backed him against the cold metal of the lockers.

“Dammit,” Richie hissed, his voice low but trembling with something raw and unspoken. Eddie’s wide eyes stared up at him, his face inches away, his breath warm and quick. Richie swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly. “Stop being so...you. You’re just too—too perfect.”

Silence stretched between them, electric and suffocating, as Richie’s resolve wavered. He could feel the weight of his secret pressing against his ribs, threatening to escape. But he couldn’t look away. Not now. Not ever.