"You think I fucking know?" Carmy responds, too loud. Embarrassed. Not getting up. He doesn't want to talk about it, define shit, he just wants—

The first kiss is just his mouth jammed up against Richie's mouth to shut him up, hand at Richie's jaw. Licks in there hard, tasting shitty wine and good steak, rocks forward, chubbed up in his sweatpants. His eyes are closed even as he tilts his head to keep kissing, needy and tense, waiting to be pushed off. This is what he wanted when he texted, it feels like this is all he wants these days.