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Richie’s done a lot of interviews in his time. He’s done a lot of talk shows, he’s made a lot of late night TV appearances, he’s been featured on Buzzfeed more than a few times to answer questions in exceedingly weird circumstances. He’s never done anything quite like this.
He’s sitting at a table in front of a camera with a set of cards in front of him. The cards have a series of increasingly prying questions printed on them. There’s a lineup of liquor to his left, and Eddie’s sitting across from him, looking like he’d rather be somewhere else.
It hadn’t been easy to get him to agree to do this. When Cut has reached out to Richie about this video, they’d told him they were making a celebrity addition of Truth or Drink and that they thought he would be a perfect candidate. They thought Eddie would be, too.
People are always trying to get Eddie into interviews with him - he’s adorable, first of all, and exceedingly popular with Richie’s fans. They always want to know more about him, in part because he does everything he can to keep himself out of the spotlight. Richie had begged and pleaded and whined and bribed to get him to agree to do this with him. The entire concept is weird, but it sounded like a good excuse to get day drunk and make Eddie blush. It’s like, two of his favourite things in interview format.
He flashes a grin across the table at Eddie, who rolls his eyes back at him. Richie winks, and then the director - Richie’s pretty sure his name is Blaine - says, “okay, what are your names?”
Richie lifts a hand. “I’m Richie.”
Across the table from him, Eddie says, “and I’m Eddie.”
“And how do you two know each other?” Blaine asks, standing a few steps from the camera.
“He’s my husband,” Richie says, pointing across the table at him. “And I’m his, also.”
There’s a smattering of laughter from the crew, and from Eddie. It’s the latter that makes Richie grin.
“And why are you guys here today?” Blaine asks them.
“For some reason,” Eddie answers, “we’re playing Truth or Drink.”
“Celebrity addition,” Richie adds. He looks away from Blaine again, looking back across the table at Eddie. “Do you wanna go first, my love, or should I?”
Eddie tilts his head. He’s so cute it kind of knocks the wind out of Richie. “I’ll go first,” he decides, reaching for the deck of cards between them and sliding one off the top. He reads it to himself, first, and says, “who wrote these fucking questions?”
Richie leans forward against the table. “Now I’m excited.”
Eddie cracks a grin. “You would be, Trashmouth,” he says. Almost reluctantly, he adds, “when was the last time you masturbated and who was it to?” He places the card next to the deck on the table, face up.
“Oh, easy,” Richie says. “It was you.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie says.
“No, seriously,” he insists. “It was, like, a couple of hours ago, before we left the hotel. I was in the shower and I was thinking about how much better it would be if I could get you in there with me. I was imagining you, like, naked and wet and it was really doing it for me.”
“Great,” Eddie says dryly, and reaches for one of the bottles.
Richie laughs loudly, watching him pour himself a shot. “Are you drinking because you didn’t like my answer?”
“Yes,” he says. “Do you want one?”
“Kinda,” Richie admits, and Eddie pours him one, too. He slides the shot glass to Richie, who picks it up and clinks his glass against Eddie’s. “Cheers, my love.”
“Skol,” Eddie agrees, and they each throw their shot back quickly. Eddie wrinkles his nose.
“I don’t think we’re playing this right,” Richie laments. Somebody from the crew laughs again. “It’s my turn now, right?” Eddie nods, and Richie reaches between them for the first card in the deck. A smile curls across his face as he reads it. “Eds,” he starts.
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie interrupts.
“Eds,” he repeats. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever used to get yourself off?”
“Oh my God,” Eddie says.
Richie grins widely, delighted. “Am I allowed to guess?”
Eddie snorts out a sound that’s almost a laugh, cheeks pink. “No fucking way,” he says, and reaches for the bottle again. He does another shot, taking a quick sip of orange juice to smother the taste.
“You have to do a second shot if you’re not gonna let me guess,” Richie adds.
Eddie laughs again. “Fuck you,” he says, “and you have to do two shots for lying to me about the rules.”
“Fuck,” Richie says, but he reaches for the bottles, anyway. He fills both of their glasses and does both the shots, clearing his throat as he swallows. “That puts me at three, right? Does that mean I’m winning?”
“I think you’re losing, actually,” Eddie corrects him, reaching for another card. He flips it over, and reads, with a laugh, “what was the last thing you cried over?”
“Oh, no,” Richie says, and Eddie laughs again as he puts the card back down. “That’s not fair.”
“You don’t have to answer,” Eddie reminds him, but he laughs again. “You can drink.”
Richie groans, rubbing his face with his hands. “It was a video on Instagram,” he admits, pushing his glasses back up.
“Of what?” Eddie asks, like he doesn’t already know.
“A dog getting one of those wheelchair things,” he says, sighing loud and heavy. “I bawled my eyes out. I was inconsolable.”
“It’s true,” Eddie says, looking in Blaine and the camera’s general direction. “I’ve never seen him cry so much. When he finally stopped crying and like, caught his breath we ordered in dinner, and we barely started eating before he fucking burst into tears again. He cried about it on and off for like, three days.”
“It was really emotional!” Richie protests. “She’d never run before and she was so excited.”
“I’d be like, ‘oh my god, are you okay?’” Eddie reminds him with a grin. “And you’d be like, ‘sorry, I thought about the dog again.’”
“I couldn’t help it,” he insists. “Leave me alone. Next question.”
He reaches for the pile of cards, pulling off another one and turning it over. He smirks. “What’s the hottest sex you’ve ever had? With me,” he adds. “It doesn’t say that on here but if it wasn’t with me I don’t wanna hear about it.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, flushing pink. “You know it was with you.”
Richie grins widely. “I do,” he agrees. He looks towards the camera before he says, “he’s only ever had sex with me.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie scoffs, flushing darker. “You’ve only ever had sex with me.”
Richie nods solemnly. “That’s true, too,” he agrees. “He took my virginity. When we were teenagers,” he adds. “It wasn’t recent. It happened many years ago. Like, twenty six years ago.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Were we fourteen?”
“I think so. Weren’t we?”
“We were so young,” he says.
“And pubescent,” he adds. “So we were going at it like rabbits.”
“Oh, God,” Eddie says again.
“You have so much sex to choose from,” Richie says. “C’mon. What was the hottest?”
“Uh,” Eddie says, looking towards the ceiling as he thinks. “Oh! Duh, it was after you won the Emmy.”
“My first Emmy or my second Emmy?” He asks, looking into the camera with a smirk.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “First.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Richie adds, “you gotta give me more to work with than that. I need details.”
“About the sex?” Eddie asks. “You were there.”
“You might remember it better than I do,” he tries.
He snorts out a laugh and reaches for the liquor. He pours himself another shot, tosses it back, and Richie watches the line of his throat as he swallows. “No,” he says, and reaches for the cards again.
His cheeks are deliciously pink, but Richie isn’t sure if it’s from the game or from the alcohol. “Which sexual act are you best at?” He asks.
Richie grins, wide and crooked. He pushes his glasses back up. “Everything, obviously,” he says, ignoring Eddie as he explodes into laughter. “Easy question. Let’s move on.”
He pulls his own card from the deck. He grins again as soon as he reads it. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you during sex?”
“Embarrassing?” Eddie repeats. “Oh, fuck. Probably the time in Bill’s kitchen when he - “
Richie interrupts him with a roar of laughter, hunching closer to the table as his shoulders shake. “Fuck you,” Eddie says, but there’s a laugh in his voice, too. “It’s not funny. It was traumatic.”
“What happened?” Blaine asks.
Eddie pushes his hair back with a groan. “It was a couple years ago,” he says. “It was our friend’s birthday and he had a bunch of us over to get shitfaced to celebrate. We were making out in the kitchen, and then we were, like, not making out anymore because I was - “
“On your knees,” Richie supplies helpfully.
“ - and the friend’s boyfriend comes in and he’s holding a giant sheet cake. And he walks in on us and I’ve got Richie’s dick in my mouth and he’s, like, so in shock that he drops the fucking cake right on me. And then the fucking birthday boy walks into the kitchen, and I’m on my knees, Richie’s dick is out, there’s fucking cake everywhere, and Stan’s there. I wanted to fucking die.”
Richie laughs again, so hard that for a long time, he doesn’t make a sound. He’s winded when he finally sits up again. “I love taking trips down memory lane with you.”
Eddie laughs and kicks him under the table. “Fuck off. It’s my turn,” he says, taking another question from the deck between them. “What’s your magic number?” He asks.
“My magic number?” He repeats.
“The number of people you’ve slept with,” Blaine tells him.
“Oh,” he says. “One.”
“Yeah, this question doesn’t count,” Eddie decides, putting his card down to pick up another one.
“Why? I answered it!”
“You answered it earlier. It’s old news,” he reminds him.
Richie shrugs. “Fine. But you’ve gotta drink.”
He isn’t really sure of the rules they’re making up for this game as they go, but it’s fun. Eddie doesn’t even fight him on it, he just pours himself another shot and takes it with a wince. “I fucking hate tequila,” he laments. He grabs the card, flipping it over. “How many people in this room would you willingly bang?”
Richie grins widely. “Still one,” he says. Eddie raises his eyebrows, and Richie shrugs again. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, baby.”
Eddie’s smile is soft and fond as he says, “you’re an idiot.”
“I love you,” Richie says.
“I love you,” Eddie says fondly, leaning across the table to kiss him when Richie puckers his lips. “You’re still an idiot.”
“I’m your idiot,” Richie says, kissing him again before he sits back down. “Let’s get married.”
“Sure,” Eddie agrees. “Should we celebrate with a shot?”
“I think we should,” Richie agrees. He watches Eddie pour them each a shot, taking the shot glass as it’s handed to him. He raises it. “To you, my love.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, but still lifts his glass to clink it against Richie’s. “To you,” he corrects. “I love you.”
Richie beams, winking at Eddie across the table before he takes his shot. Warmth is starting to spread through his chest with each shot he takes. “I think this game is making me drunk,” he says.
Eddie nods, washing down his shot with another mouthful of orange juice. “You’re getting paid so I can get drunk,” he says. “It’s fucking great.”
“Let’s get drunker,” Richie decides, sitting up again to reach for another card. “What’s your favourite sexual position?” He reads.
“Your favourite sexual position?” He asks. “Or mine?”
“Yours, I think,” Richie says, putting the card down on the table. “Or mine. You should try and guess mine and I’ll guess yours.”
“Loser drinks,” Blaine supplies, and Richie points at him.
“Great idea.” He looks at Eddie again, leaning closer to him across the table. “What’s my favourite sexual position, Eds?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that,” he says.
“What’s my favourite sexual position, light of my life?” He corrects.
Eddie snorts, propping his arms up on the table. He stares across it at Richie, who stares right back. “Missionary,” he says finally, and he barely says it before they both explode into laughter, Eddie hunching closer towards the table, Richie throwing his head back.
Blaine waits until they quiet before he asks, “not missionary, then?”
“No, seriously,” Eddie says, but he’s speaking through a laugh. “He loves it. He loves a lot of eye contact.”
Richie laughs again, shaking with it. “That’s - okay,” he allows, and Eddie laughs again. “Just hear me out. If I’ve got my glasses on, then I like to see you. You’re beautiful, okay? What do you want from me? But if my glasses are off I can’t see shit anyway, so I might as well just hit it from the back.”
Somebody from the crew laughs, and it sets Eddie off into another peal of giggles.
“Is it hard to keep your glasses on during sex?” Blaine asks.
“Harder than you’d think,” Richie says. “It’s - seriously!” He insists, when somebody else laughs. “They fall off all the fucking time. It’s a pain in the ass ‘cause I really can’t see shit without them. Like, I don’t need to be able to see the whole time, but there are certain things that go a lot smoother if I can see what I’m doing, y’know?”
“I’m putting an end to this,” Eddie decides, reaching for the bottles again, picking one filled with clear liquor. “I forfeit.”
“What?” Richie protests. “You’re not gonna let me guess yours?”
Eddie pours himself a shot and caps the bottle again. “What do you think it is?”
“I think it’s…” he starts, and trails off, looking at Eddie across the table. “Reverse cowgirl,” he guesses. “So you don’t have to look at me.”
Eddie snorts out a laugh and takes his shot. He takes another sip of orange juice before he says, “no.”
“He’s lying,” Richie says to Blaine and the camera. “That’s definitely what it is.”
“I’m just gonna go ahead and grab one of these,” Eddie says, reaching for the cards between them. Richie laughs loudly.
Eddie laughs, too, as he reads the card. “What’s the least amount of time you’ve known someone for before sleeping with them?”
Richie makes a face. “Uh. Six years? How old was I when I met you?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie says, “eight?”
“If we started fucking when we were fourteen that makes it six years, right?”
“Right,” Blaine tells him, and Richie snaps his fingers.
“Fucking right. I’m so good at math.” Eddie laughs, and Richie grins widely as he reaches next for the cards between them. “Damn. Who’s smarter, me or you?”
“Oh,” Eddie says. “Uh.“
“We both know it’s you,” Richie tells him with a laugh. “You can say it.”
“You’re smart,” Eddie says.
“You’re obviously smarter than me,” Richie says, looking back at Blaine. “He’s a surgeon. He’s brilliant.”
“I get by,” Eddie says with a shrug.
“You get by?” Richie repeats. “You’re the smartest fucking person I’ve ever met.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, but the colour along his cheekbones darkens considerably. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, reaching for the deck of cards between them. “Next question.”
Richie grins fondly. “You can change the subject but I’m still right.”
Eddie ignores him. “What’s something I do that annoys you?”
“What? Is that really the question?” Richie asks, and it’s with a laugh that Eddie turns the card around to face him. “Uh,” he says thoughtfully. “Nothing, really.”
“You fucking liar,” Eddie accuses, slapping the card down on the table.
“I’m serious,” Richie protests. “You do a lot of weird shit but that’s just part of who you are. And I love you.”
“I love you,” Eddie admits, reaching across the table to link their fingers together. “Do you wanna know what you do that annoys me?”
Richie squints at him from behind his glasses. “What?”
“When we’re having an argument and you start doing a fucking accent,” he says. “It drives me fucking crazy.”
“Yeah,” Richie agrees, cracking a grin. “You fucking hate that.”
“I really fucking do,” Eddie says around a laugh.
“What’s your favourite thing about your partner?” Blaine asks.
“That’s a much better question,” Richie says, turning his palm up to properly hold Eddie’s hand. He pauses for a second to think about it, but, unsurprisingly, there’s actually a lot of things he adores about Eddie. “Fuck, but I love so many things about you. How am I supposed to pick a favourite?”
Eddie’s smile is wide, kinda drunk, a lot in love, and it makes Richie’s chest feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “I think my favourite thing about you is...fuck,” he says, looking away, and Richie laughs. “You make me feel better,” he says after a moment of thought. “I’m a pretty high strung guy,” he admits, for the benefit of Blaine and the viewing audience, “and I get pretty anxious sometimes. But you always know what to say to make me feel better. You always make me feel like I’ll be okay. And you make me laugh, that’s also my favourite.”
Richie’s grin is so wide it makes his jaw click, but he can only imagine how sappy and lovesick it looks from the outside. “I love you so much,” he says, and his voice is softer, sweeter than he meant for it to be.
Eddie smiles. “I know,” he says softly. “I love you, too.”
Richie leans across the table to kiss him again, unable to help himself, and sits back in his seat when Blaine asks, “and Richie, what’s your favourite thing about Eddie?”
“His ass,” he says, and his face splits into a grin as Eddie laughs loudly. There’s another smattering of laughter from behind the camera, and Eddie draws his hand back to reach again for the lineup of liquor bottles at the end of the table.
“I need to drink to be able to deal with you,” he explains, quickly pouring himself another shot. He winces as he takes it.
Richie laughs as he watches him, reaching across the table to try and take his hand again. Eddie shoots him a look that’s every bit unimpressed. “Nuh uh. You lost that right.”
“No,” Richie protests, “c’mon. Hold my hand. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I can do better.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows expectantly. “I’ll believe it when I hear it.”
“My favourite thing about you is actually…” Richie says, and trails off as he thinks. “Fuck, I don’t know. You’re my favourite person on Earth. You’re my best friend, Eds. Everything about you is my favourite.” Eddie cracks a smile, and it makes Richie grin again, just as widely. “Does that count? Is that a good answer?”
“Fine,” Eddie says. He lays his hand out on the table again, and Richie takes it quickly.
“Much better,” he says. He twines their fingers together before he says, “is it my turn now?”
Eddie nods.
Richie reaches again for the cards with his other hand, flipping over the first one. He smirks as he reads, “what’s the most embarrassing TV show that you watch?”
“Oh God,” Eddie blurts, and Richie dissolves into laughter. “I don’t…I don’t think I wanna answer this one.”
“Can I?” Richie asks.
“Does he know what it is?” Blaine asks.
Eddie sighs loudly through his nose. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s the Real Housewives of Atlanta.”
Somebody from the crew barks out a laugh, and Eddie groans, ducking his head. “I know,” he says. “I’m not proud of it. I try not to tell anybody.”
“It’s on a lot at our house,” Richie adds helpfully.
Eddie lifts his head again to reach for the cards. “Let’s move on. Next question.” He flips it over, and almost immediately pulls a face. “Oh, fuck. Where’s the most scandalous location you’ve had sex?”
Richie brightens, sitting higher in his seat as he grins. “I’m so glad you asked,” he says.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather drink?” Eddie asks.
“I will,” Richie says, reluctantly releasing his grip on Eddie’s hand to reach for the line of bottles, “but I’m still gonna answer it.” He pours himself a shot, takes it, and then pours himself another, just for the hell of it. He throws it back before he says, “a better question would be which scandalous location haven’t we had sex in?”
“That would be a terrible question,” Eddie says, but he laughs all the same.
“Hm,” Richie says thoughtfully, “golf course? That was pretty bold of us. Or the bathroom at a Whole Foods. Oh! Or the back of a moving car that my assistant hired for us.”
“That’s not really a location, though,” Eddie points out, pushing his hair back from his face. “It was mobile.”
“Okay, okay,” Richie says. “The most scandalous location was probably, like, the side street when we were driving out to LA.” Eddie snorts out a laugh, covering his face with his hands, and Richie grins widely at the memory. “That was pretty scandalous, right?”
“What side street?” Blaine asks.
“I’m so glad you asked,” Richie says, looking directly into the camera. “We grew up in a fucking circus in Maine, but after high school we got hitched and we moved to California. We got married, like, right after school. Like, we skipped grad to go get married, so we had the entire summer together before Eddie started school again and we decided we’d drive out there. But we were still young,” he explains. “We were eighteen, and we were newlyweds, right? We were fucking horny. We didn’t even make it out of Maine before we were like, y’know, fuck it, if we don’t fuck in the next two minutes we’re gonna die. So I,” he starts, and laughs as he says it. “So I pull down this random side street. And my car is filled with our shit, so we can’t actually fuck in the car, so we,” he laughs again, “so we get out, in the middle of the day, and fuck on this random side street. I think we were in front of somebody’s house.”
“We were definitely in front of somebody’s house,” Eddie laughs. “What were we thinking?”
“We were thinking, ‘fuck, camera phones don’t exist yet, let’s fuck in public while we still can.’ I think it was really brave of us.”
“You would,” Eddie agrees, putting his card down on the table.
Richie reaches for the next one in the pile. “Fuck, this one’s brutal,” he says as he places the card down. “What was the lowest point in our relationship?”
Eddie makes a face. “Probably the car accident.”
“Probably? Definitely the car accident.”
“What car accident?” Blaine asks.
“I was in a really bad car accident a couple years ago,” Eddie explains, rubbing the line of his jaw with one hand.
“What happened?” Blaine asks.
“I mean, I don’t remember too much,” Eddie says, looking at the ceiling as he thinks. “I was unconscious for a long time. Almost four months, I think. Nobody thought I was going to make it. And I was in the hospital I work in,” he adds, “so I knew all the doctors and the surgeons and the nurses. None of them thought I was going to make it. It was bleak.”
“What were those four months like for you, Richie?” Blaine asks him.
Richie puffs out his cheeks, exhaling slowly as he looks down at the surface of the table. Fucking unimaginably awful, is the short of it. “Um,” he says slowly. “I actually try not to think about it too much. So,” he says, and reaches for one of the bottles, “I’m gonna need one of these.”
“Make it two, please,” Eddie says, and Richie nods, pouring them both a shot. “Skol,” he says as he clinks their glasses together.
“Skol,” Richie parrots. He takes the shot quickly, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he looks back down at the table. “When Eddie was in the hospital,” he starts slowly, “it was fucking - it was the worst. It was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever been through. I had people trying to talk to me about fucking funeral arrangements and what I’d wanna do with your body, if I’d wanna cremate or if I’d need a fucking casket and it -“ he stops, voice cracking, and clears his throat. He sniffs. “It sucked. It really fucking sucked. And I still hate thinking about it, so I think we should move this along. Next question.”
Eddie reaches out to soothingly squeeze his arm before he lifts the next card from the deck. “Who’s the last person you stalked on Instagram?”
Richie sniffs again, pushing his hair back. “Um. I don’t - oh! Courtney Love. It was on the ride over here.”
“Why Courtney Love?” Blaine asks.
“He loves her,” Eddie answers.
“I do,” Richie admits. “And one of these days I’ll get her to follow me back, mark my fucking words.”
“Should we drink to that?” Eddie asks.
Richie points at him across the table. “I like the way you think.”
Eddie pours them each a shot, and they clink their glasses together again before they toss them back.
“My turn,” Richie says, putting his shot glass down in favour of reaching for the questions again. He laughs as he asks, “what do you like the least about my appearance?”
Eddie laughs loudly. “It does not say that.”
“It does,” Richie grins, turning the card to face him. “The cards are trying to start a fight.”
“Oh my God,” Eddie says, hanging his head as he thinks. “Honestly? Right now, it’s the shirt.”
Richie laughs again, banging a hand against the table. “I knew you were gonna say the shirt! He hates this fucking shirt.” He pulls at the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, open over an unassuming black tee. The Hawaiian shirt, however, is an awful, acid green in colour, and patterned with flowers in equally eye searing colours. Eddie had actively tried to convince him not to buy it, and has hated it pretty much ever since.
“It’s fucking awful,” Eddie says with a laugh. “What do you like the least about my appearance?”
Richie drums his fingers thoughtfully against the surface of the table. After a moment, he turns to Blaine and the camera again. “He has a chest tattoo that says No Dice,” he says. Across the table from him, Eddie groans. “It’s not my least favourite part of his appearance, I just thought it would be a good time to bring it up, and I like telling people about it.”
Eddie groans again, reaching for the cards between them. “I’m changing the subject.” He snorts out a laugh before he asks, “Rich, what’s the most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?”
Richie leans back in his chair with a groan. “My parents - my poor parents,” he laments. “They walked in on us having, like, actual, proper sex, do you remember that?”
“I’ve tried my best to block it out, actually,” Eddie tells him.
“Yeah, that sucked,” Richie agrees, but he can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. “They had, like, a sit down talk with us after. They were like, ‘please, just not in our room and not while we’re home.’”
Eddie laughs loudly, covering his face with his hands. “I was so afraid they were gonna kick me out.”
“He moved in with us after middle school,” Richie explains. “Technically, we had separate rooms but we always just shared mine. Not that my parents knew that. They were a lot better about knocking after that, though.”
“I’m going right back to blocking that memory out,” Eddie decides.
Richie laughs as he reaches for another card. “Eds,” he starts, smiling widely when Eddie groans again. “Do you like telling me what to do in bed, or do you prefer to be told what to do?”
He laughs when Eddie puts his head down against his arms. “God,” he says, “why is this one of the questions? Who wants to know this?”
Richie winks at Blaine, and somebody else from the crew laughs. “Ugh,” Eddie says as he lifts his head. “I prefer telling. You prefer being told.”
Richie nods. “That sounds about right.”
Eddie reaches next for the cards, picking another one from the pile. “Second to last,” he tells him. “What’s - fuck. What’s the most number of times we’ve had sex in one day?”
Richie looks thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Ever? It’s - I know it’s a lot but it was years ago. When my parents would go out of town and leave us alone with the house we’d be on each other, like, constantly. Probably like, six or seven times. But that was high school,” he says. “We’re older and lazier now.”
“We were at it a lot after we moved, too,” Eddie reminds him.
“That’s true,” Richie agrees. “That’s true ‘cause we finally had our own place. We really - we went out of our way to christen that apartment.”
Eddie snorts out a laugh. “We made it our own.”
Richie laughs, and reaches for the last card between them. “Are you ready for the last question?”
“No,” Eddie says, “but let’s it hear it, anyway.”
“How much do you love me?” Richie asks.
Eddie laughs again, reaching out to hold Richie’s arm with both hands. “More than anything,” he says, and his voice takes on a soft, sweet edge. “More than I can fucking put into words.”
Richie’s smile softens, and he leans across the table to kiss him again. “I love you,” he says. “Thanks for doing this with me.”
Eddie squeezes his arm. “Anytime.”
“And that’s it,” Blaine says. “We’ve got it. Thanks a lot, guys.”
“Thanks, Blaine,” Richie says.
A few days later, when the official video is posted to YouTube, Richie uses his official account to like just two comments; one that says richie seems like he’d be so much fun to get drunk with, and one that says, does anybody else think eddie is so much better looking than richie? that already has four thousand likes.
He likes the video, too, for good measure. It’s probably his favourite interview to date.