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#this carries into chapter 2 as well ( mostly with richie & eddie )
trashthemouth · 3 years
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i think i’ve said something abt this before, but i’m reading the body right now and like ... chapter 1 really took a lot of characterization cues for richie, eddie, bill, and stan from this / the film adaptation.
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There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise (Ben Hanscom/Reader) (2/3)
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Summary:  You're Richie's twin sister and a member of the Losers' Club. When the other members all pack up and leave town, you elect to stay behind with Mike to wait for It to come back. After 27 years pass and Pennywise returns, will you and the other Losers be able to finally defeat him?
Pairing:  Ben Hanscom/Reader; Richie Tozier & Reader; Background Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Word Count: 5.9k
Author’s Note:  This is finished at 16k. I decided to split it up into three parts to make it easier. If you enjoy this, then letting me know would make my day! If you’ve seen It: Chapter Two, then you know what you’re in store for regarding warnings...but with the added fun of some canon divergence!
Masterlist / Read on AO3 / Part One 
When you got to the Townhouse, you were unsurprised to see that Eddie was practically ready to run out the door and Richie wasn't far behind him. But both seemed to have been brought up short by whatever was going on with Beverly and Ben in the Townhouse's lounge.  
You stopped just in the doorway, trading an uncertain look with Richie, before you focused on what they were talking about.  
When you realized that Beverly had somehow known the details of Stan's death, you started to wonder what else you were missing.  
It wasn't until Bill and Mike arrived and it was revealed that Beverly had seen all of your deaths thanks to her time caught in the deadlights in ‘89 that everyone started to realize there was no fleeing Derry this time. Either you all stayed and killed Pennywise once and for all or none of you would even make it another twenty-seven years to try again.  
You were all cursed and doomed to die horrible deaths if Pennywise lived. It seemed your only options were to stay and fight or flee and die.  
"Well," you started as you glanced at Mike. "I've waited twenty-seven years in this shitty little town for this moment. I'm in," you told the group with a resolve you mostly felt out of a need for revenge. Revenge for Stan and revenge for the lost years of your life you would never get back. Revenge for the nightmares and incessant fear that had haunted you since you were a child and revenge for all of the children who had lost their lives to Pennywise. Revenge for Georgie and revenge for the grief countless families had endured in Derry because of It.  
You met Bill's eyes for a brief moment and noticed he looked just as determined as you felt to finally finish It once and for all.  
Once everyone else had agreed to stick around and try to finish the fight, Mike mentioned a ritual he discovered that would be able to kill It. You couldn't help the frown you aimed at him as he explained the Ritual of Chüd. In all the years you had stuck by Mike's side, he had never once mentioned the ritual to you. From the way he was carefully not meeting your eyes, you knew that it was something he had purposefully done. When Bill seemed to support Mike's words, you were helpless to stop the brief moment of jealousy you felt that Mike would trust Bill with that information but not you.  
As you trailed at the end of the group on the trek across town, you couldn't help wonder if the ritual would work. There was something that didn't quite add up about the bigger picture, but you weren't sure what it was yet. You needed more details and the only person who could fill those in was Mike.  
Going back to the clubhouse was a trip down memory lane you hadn't been aware you needed. You usually avoided the woods, for good reason, but being with the group provided you with the courage you sometimes lacked when you were on your own.  
You enjoyed watching the other members uncover old memories until Richie scared you all with his own impression of Pennywise.  
"Are you going to be like this the whole time we're home?" Eddie wondered as he glared up at Richie.  
Richie rolled his eyes before glancing away. "I was just trying to bring some levity to this shit," he grumbled before he sighed. "Alright, guess I'll go fuck myself, then," he muttered before he ducked under a beam and started rifling through a crate that held a few old comic books and other odds and ends.  
"What are we doing here, Mike?" Bill asked as he glanced up from a shelf full of old trinkets that used to belong to the group.
"Yeah, not that I'm not loving the nostalgia of all this, but what's the point?" Richie added with a frown.  
"I brought you here because I need you all to remember. If we're going to complete the ritual, then you all need an item. An artifact. Something that's connected to the past and to that summer." Mike explained as he considered everyone in the group.  
"Why?" You couldn't help but wonder as you looked around the clubhouse. "What kind of artifact should we be looking for?"
"It's different for all of us, but it has to be something personal. The Ritual of Chüd requires a sacrifice and that sacrifice will be your artifact. I brought us all here, because I thought this might be where we find Stan’s artifact.”
When Eddie pointed out that Bill had already found Stan’s artifact, a shower cap that had been left behind in 1989, you all shared a brief moment of silence as you remembered the thoughtful boy who had insisted wearing the caps would be the only way to prevent spiders from getting in your hair.
Once you all left the clubhouse, Eddie turned to look at Mike. “So, where should we find our artifacts or tokens or whatever?”
“It’s different for all of us, which is why we're going to need to split up."
"Hey, no, fuck that," Richie denied with a quick shake of his head. "Every horror movie ever explains why that's a bad idea."
"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere by myself if I can help it," Eddie was quick to jump in.  
"No, it has to be alone," Mike insisted as he glanced from Richie to Eddie. "There are memories that you have to uncover on your own."
"What's left?" Richie asked as he squinted at Mike. "We remember everything from that summer already. We joined forces and fought It and suffered through some shit that years of therapy probably won't help. What else is there?"
"We weren't always together," Mike pointed out as he met your eyes. "There was a point during that summer when we were separated."
"After Eddie broke his arm," you remembered with a frown.  
"After the fight," Beverly added with a nod.  
"Well, fuck," Richie seethed with a scowl.  
From the way Eddie scoffed, you had a feeling he agreed with the sentiment.  
“You all need to unlock those memories, because that’s how you’re going find your artifacts. Tokens,” Mike amended with a quick look at Eddie. “And once you have them, we’ll all meet up at the library. We can figure out how to proceed from there.”
Before the group split up, you managed to grab Richie's jacket sleeve to grab his attention. He slowed down until you were walking side-by-side at the edge of the group.  
"You alright?" You couldn't help but wonder as you considered your brother. You hated to admit it, but he seemed like the biggest flight risk at the moment. You knew your brother was brave and reckless, but he also didn't seem completely on board with the plan to defeat Pennywise.  
"Peachy," he assured you with a grin that was a bit too wide and forced to be anything but fake.  
"Richie," you admonished with a tone you hadn't used for years, but clearly told him you weren't going to take any of his bullshit.  
"I just..." he trailed off with a frown. "I didn't ask for this. I was fine. I was touring and famous and making so much fucking money." He huffed out a helpless laugh before he raked his fingers through his hair. "But it was lonely and now I know why. But we're already down one man and any one of us might fucking be next. Why the fuck would I want to stick around for that? Why should any of us?"
You considered your brother for a few moments before you spoke. "You could leave," you conceded with a nod. "But you'd never forgive yourself if you weren't here and something went horribly wrong. Besides, if we don't defeat Pennywise this time, then we're all dead."
"Gee, you really know how to console a guy. I can't even imagine why you're still single," Richie muttered before wincing when you reached out to shove him.  
"Fuck off," you grumbled. Your eyes met his and it wasn't long before you were both laughing, falling back into the familiar comradery you had enjoyed all those years ago.  
"Fuck," Richie sighed before he threw an arm around your shoulders. "You know what your token is yet?"
"Don't laugh," you warned as you bumped into him. You knew exactly what your token would be and while it would hurt to depart with it, you knew that if it meant getting rid of Pennywise, then you would sacrifice just about anything to ensure the safety of the others. You wouldn't lose anyone else. Not after you had already lost Stan.  
You reached into the pocket of your jacket and pulled free the red bit of sponge you usually kept there before placing it on your nose.  
"Holy shit," Richie got out on an incredulous laugh. "You still have that? Why the fuck are you just carrying it around like that?"
You felt a grin tug at your lips before you pulled off the clown nose Richie had gifted to you during the summer of '89. "It might have been the worst gift idea ever, but it meant a lot to me."
You weren't even sure why you were stumbling around the woods near the barrens all by yourself. If anything had become clear since Pennywise appeared in your life, it was that you really shouldn't go anywhere alone. 
You were just so tired of being afraid all the time. Now, with the group split up, you had begun to worry that the search for Georgie had fallen by the wayside. You knew, deep down, that Bill's little brother was probably dead, but you didn't want to give up until Bill gave up. 
So, when you couldn't stand to be inside your house any longer and Richie had ignored your request for his company, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You didn't even really think you would be able to find Georgie, but you couldn't help but hold out a tiny bit of hope that you would still find the kid lost out in the woods.  
You weren't really looking where you were going when you stumbled over a root that had twisted up out of the ground. You flung an arm out, barely catching yourself on the trunk of the tree next to you, before you kicked uselessly at the root.  
When you glanced up, you noticed you were no longer alone.  
"Oh, poor little Y/N, all alone in the woods," Pennywise crooned with a malevolent grin that sent a chill down your spine. "No one wanted to play with you, Y/N?"
"Fuck off," you struggled to say as you willed yourself to move. Your feet stayed planted, though. You wanted to turn and run away, but your body wouldn't let you. You were frozen with fear.  
"I'll play with you, Y/N," Pennywise promised as he took one step closer to you. "You'll never be alone as long as your old pal Pennywise is around."
All you could think about was Georgie and Betty Ripsom and Eddie Corcoran. Was this the last face they saw before meeting a cruel fate? Did they all fall into their gruesome demise just after seeing that wide, menacing grin and those glowing, yellow eyes?
"Time to float," Pennywise said in a deep, guttural voice that seemed to be the catalyst for your feet to finally unstick themselves from the forest floor.  
You turned and made a run for it. You could hear Pennywise's laugh following you as you attempted to flee. Something sharp caught on the back of your shirt and you tripped over another root, sprawling on the ground. You hissed when your palm scraped over tree bark on the way down, but you didn't care. You scrambled to find purchase again with your feet, nearly slipping in your quest to keep running as far and as fast as you could manage.  
"You'll float too," you heard Pennywise promise from just behind you. You could just imagine that he was right on your heels now, his hands always outreached and ready to grab you. "You'll all float," he continued in that same dangerous and lilting tone that never failed to freak you out.  
You were so sure that Pennywise would catch up to you. You thought that you would be a goner. You were sure your body would be found chewed up and bloody or that you would never be found again. But then you saw a glimpse of the road through the trees blocking your path and you hurried towards it, feeling like your chest was going to cave in with every harsh breath you forced past your lips.  
You felt relief when you finally made it out to the road. You weren't sure how you had managed to get so turned around out in the woods, but when you realized that you were even farther out than you normally cared to venture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with fear at what almost happened to you.  
You didn't allow yourself to stop running until you were home. Your palms were bleeding and while you were trying to cut across a back yard to make your trip shorter, you had managed to skin your knee when you tripped over a kid's tricycle.  
You were exhausted and bleeding and terrified as you finally crashed through the front door of your house. Your parents weren't home, which wasn't much of a surprise, but Richie was sitting on the couch in the living room.  
"What the fuck happened to you?" He asked as he jumped up from the couch and moved towards you.  
You flinched away from him before waving him off and heading for the hallway. "Stupid fuckin' clown," you muttered as you stormed into your room. You grabbed a clean t-shirt and shorts, ignoring Richie calling your name as you locked yourself in the bathroom.  
You were barely aware of the fact that your hands were shaking as you moved to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. All you could see when you closed your eyes was Pennywise and his stupid grin and those fingers that could just as easily turn into claws. You met your eyes in your reflection and forced yourself to take deep breaths.  
You couldn't be scared, you told yourself, because then Pennywise would have won.  
When you finally got yourself to calm down, you stepped into the shower, intent on getting clean and trying to erase every trace of dirt and blood off of you. It felt like if you could just wash it all away, then you could make yourself forget about what happened in the woods. Even though you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t as simple as that.  
By the time you made it back to your room, you had cleaned and bandaged the worst of the cuts you suffered. Now, all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep away the exhaustion you felt.  
Your plans were derailed when you got to your bedroom to see Richie sitting on the edge of your bed and waiting for you.  
"I'm not in the mood," you growled as you brushed past him.  
"Hey, come on," Richie coaxed as he reached out to grab your arm. "What the fuck is going on?"
You bit your lip, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes, before you managed to finally look at Richie. "I saw Pennywise," you admitted with a grimace. "He chased me out near the barrens."
"Fuck," Richie hissed before he tugged you down to sit next to him. "But you're okay?"
"For the most part," you told him before you showed him the scrapes on your palm. "He just scared me more than anything."
Richie frowned down at your hand before he glanced back up at you. "We've got to kill that stupid clown," he muttered with a sigh. "Before it gets one of us for good."
You knew without him having to say anything that he was thinking of the way that Eddie had broken his arm at Neibolt. He was thinking of his own one-on-one encounter with Pennywise and the Paul Bunyan statue that had suddenly come to life and terrorized him not long ago. You remembered the way Richie's hands wouldn't stop shaking and the way he kept looking over his shoulder, as if he thought Pennywise or the statue would come back to finish the job.  
"He'll be okay," you found yourself telling Richie. "We all will," you quickly amended when you noticed Richie's face grow pale as he looked up at you with wide eyes.  
Richie scoffed before he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled something out. "I got you a present," he told you before he turned away and placed something on his nose. When he turned back around, you saw an imitation red clown nose fixed onto his. "What do you say, Y/N? Do I look the part?" He asked as he batted his eyelashes at you.  
You couldn't help but snort at your ridiculous brother. "Really? Why the hell would you buy that with everything going on? I thought you hated clowns."
Richie shrugged his shoulders before he pulled the fake clown nose off. "I thought it was funny at the time. Wanted to see if you'd get a kick out of it. I thought it might make you laugh." He reached out and placed the red spongey ball on your nose, a pleased smirk on his face. "And I do really fucking hate clowns, but you're my sister, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'll even kick Bill's ass if he breaks your heart."
"So, what? Am I supposed to kick Eddie's?"
You noticed Richie wince before he ducked his head. He looked so uncertain in that moment that you couldn't help but feel guilty for making him think that he had to be that way around you. That he thought he had to hide who he really was around you.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled before he started picking at a loose thread on your comforter.  
"Richie," you whispered before reaching out to wrap your fingers around his wrist. "I know." It didn't take much for you to figure it out. After one night when you were both bored and had decided to play truth or dare, Richie had admitted to having a crush on a friend. It wasn't long before you connected the dots and saw the bigger picture. "I know," you repeated with what you hoped was a reassuring tone.  
Richie was silent for a few worrying moments before he finally met your eyes. "Do you hate me?"
"Never," you immediately told him. "You're my brother. My twin. We're in this together, right?"
Richie watched you for a moment, as if he thought you were trying to pull one over on him, before a smile slowly stretched across his face. "Right," he agreed with a nod. He reached out and squeezed the clown nose still resting atop yours. "Guess we're both just a couple of clowns, huh?"
"God, I still can't believe you have that piece of shit," Richie mused as he reached out to take it from you. "It held up really well. I guess the fifteen cents was worth it."  
You rolled your eyes before taking it back from him. "Do you know what you're looking for?" You asked him as you started trailing after the others.  
Richie frowned before you noticed a distant look in his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered with a displeased look on his face. "I've got a good idea about where I need to go."
It wasn't long before everyone went off in search of their tokens. You managed to stall Mike, needing to have a few words with him before he left to go to the library.  
"What the fuck, Mike?" You hissed when you had him alone. "All these years and you never once mentioned the ritual or tokens or anything."
"Look, Y/N, I'm sorry," Mike started, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. "I was worried. There are things that have to come together in order for this to work and I didn't want you to leave me if you knew what it required."
You studied Mike carefully for a moment, knowing that there was something he was hiding. "What else aren't you telling me? What have you left out?"  
Mike sighed before he glanced away from you. "We just have to do this ritual and then Pennywise will be gone forever. Then we'll be free, Y/N," he said as he met your gaze again. "No more waiting and no more Derry. We can leave and no one else has to die because of It. Not in twenty-seven years or ever again."
You had so many questions you wanted to ask him. Why did he trust Bill over you? Why was this ritual your only hope? Was it dangerous? Would it kill any of you? If you had to sacrifice a piece of your past, then would you have to sacrifice anything else?  
None of those questions ended up making it out of your mouth, though. "I guess that's something worth fighting for," you admitted with a sigh.  
"It is," he readily agreed before he offered you a tentative smile, as if silently asking if you forgave him for keeping the ritual from you. "Are you coming with me to the library?"
"No," you answered. "Knowing my brother, he might try to bolt again. I'll wait for him at the Townhouse."
"Good idea," Mike conceded with a helpless laugh before he nodded at you. "See you later, Y/N."
You decided to take the more scenic route through town on the walk back to the Townhouse. You weren't really all that eager to get back and deal with everything you didn't really want to face, so you figured you were owed at least a few minutes to yourself.  
You didn't really count on literally running right into Ben just outside the high school.  
"Fuck," you blurted as you bumped into someone and then struggled to regain your footing.  
"Shit. I'm so sorry," you heard someone say as hands wrapped around your waist to steady you.  
You glanced up to see Ben standing close to you, a sheepish smile on his face. "I guess I wasn't looking where I was going," you admitted with a grimace. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine," Ben quickly assured you. “I wasn’t really looking either.”
It took you a moment to realize that you were still standing on the sidewalk, remarkably close to Ben, with his hands on your waist. You could feel the heat of his palms through the fabric of your shirt and couldn't help the blush that stained your cheeks. When you glanced up at Ben, you noticed he was blushing too once he finally realized he was still holding onto you.
"Oh, uh, sorry," Ben got out as he took a few faltering steps away from you.  
"It's okay," you told him with what you hoped was an easy smile. You didn't want to admit that you had forgotten for one moment why you were so scared and ill with worry. You didn't want to admit that maybe your childhood crush on Bill had been traded for something that felt a bit more real with Ben. "Are you okay?" You made yourself ask in an attempt to change the course of the conversation. "You seemed to be in a rush," you pointed out with a raised eyebrow.  
"Oh, yeah," Ben said with a nod. "I was just doing what Mike wanted us to do," he added with a wince. "It didn't exactly bring up the greatest memory."
"Want to talk about it?" You couldn't help but offer, remembering the days when you and Ben would both bond over your hopeless crushes on other members of the Losers' Club. You remembered the way he pined for Beverly, hoping that she would one day return the affection he felt for her. Unfortunately, your crush and Ben's crush seemed to have a crush on each other. You had spent many moments during your childhood assuring Ben that he deserved the love and attention he so desperately sought from Beverly.  
"Not right now. What about you? Did you find what you needed?"
"Oh, yeah. I already had it on me," you confessed with a relieved laugh. "Something had to be easy for once, right?"
"Right," Ben agreed with a grin. "You heading back to the Townhouse?" He asked with a nod down the sidewalk, silently prompting you to start walking in the direction of the inn.  
"Yeah. I don't trust that Richie won't still make a run for it, so I'm willing to go so far as slashing his tires if that's the case."
Ben let out a surprised laugh before he bumped his arm companionably into yours as you walked. "I bet you missed him, huh? God, I can't even imagine. You and Mike sacrificed so many years of your lives just to make sure we didn't forget to come back."
"I did miss him, yeah, but I missed all of you. You all became my family that summer. But it wasn't so bad, because I had Mike. He kept me here every time I thought I might want to run as far and as fast as I could to get away from this place."
"It couldn't have been easy," Ben said as you drew to a stop just outside the Townhouse. "I know the others might not say it, but thanks."
"For what?" You couldn't help but wonder.
"For staying. If we do this, kill It, then we won't all die horrible deaths later on. We have you and Mike to thank for that."
"We still got Stanley killed," you couldn't help but point out. "If Mike had never called him, then maybe he would still be alive."
"Mike said it only works if we're all together," Ben argued with a shake of his head. "I'd give anything to have Stan here with us, but what happened to him is not your fault and it's not Mike's. You couldn’t have known."
You weren't really sure how to respond. The guilt that still sat heavily on your shoulders had you convinced that it very much was your fault. You gestured towards the Townhouse with a wry grin. "Want to go see who else has made it back?"
"Sure," Ben agreed, allowing you to dodge the subject.  
When you got inside, it was to see that Beverly was the only one to have returned. You caught the brief look of longing on Ben's face when he saw her and decided to give him a break. You pretended like you had to check on something upstairs and retreated to an empty room as you tried to ignore the brief flare of jealousy you felt at seeing Ben look at Beverly like that. You told yourself that you had to stop having crushes on other Losers as you set about remaking the bed in an attempt to keep busy.  
You weren't really sure how long you were supposed to stay upstairs, but when you heard a door slam down the hall, you left the room to make sure everything was okay. You found Ben rushing up towards the second floor, a determined look on his face.  
"What's going on?"
"Richie," Ben explained as he nodded towards the closed door of Richie's room.  
"Shit," you hissed before you moved over towards Richie's room. You knocked on the door before opening it and barging into the room.  
"For fuck's sake, Y/N," Richie groaned as he continued to hastily pack his bag. "I could have been naked."
"You can't leave, Richie," you insisted as you took a step closer to him. "I know it's what you want to do, but you have to stay."
"I don't have to fucking do anything," he argued as he kept packing. "I'm getting the fuck out of here and if you were smart, you'd come with me."
"You can't just leave us, Richie," Ben cut in, his brows furrowed. "We need you. Y/N needs you," Ben tried with a grimace, as if he knew he was playing dirty and couldn't really help it.  
Richie shot Ben a glare over his shoulder before his eyes landed on you. He considered you for a moment before he rolled his eyes. "Fuck. Fine." He took a deep breath before he scowled down at his half-packed bag. "Could you two leave? I just need a moment."
You narrowed your eyes at Richie, sure that he was still intent on leaving, but you felt Ben tug on your arm. "We'll be right downstairs if you need us," he promised with a nod of his head.  
You let Ben lead you out of the room and towards the staircase. "I'm still not convinced he's staying," you muttered to him.  
"We've done what we can for now," Ben reasoned as he took the first few steps down towards the first floor.  
You almost bumped into him when he suddenly froze on the stairs, his breath hitching in surprise. When you chanced a glance over his shoulder, you were shocked to see Bill and Beverly kissing.  
You expected to feel a little jealous that your childhood crush was obviously still not into you, but you realized you didn't feel much of anything except for concern for Ben. You reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him back up the stairs and into the empty room you had escaped to earlier.  
"I'm sorry you had to see that," you told Ben with a grimace.  
"It's okay," Ben sighed as he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. "I should have seen it coming."
"I'm sure it didn't mean anything," you tried to console him as you sat down next to him.  
Ben let out a tiny, rueful laugh and shook his head. "You know, I always knew it was a lost cause, but I never wanted to let myself see it. I guess I look pretty foolish, huh?"
"No," you told him with a firm shake of your head. "You never have."
Ben's lips quirked up in a self-deprecating grin before his shoulders slumped in what looked a lot like defeat. "The more time I spend here, the more I'm starting to realize that I need to let things go. Not just my childhood fears, but maybe my childhood crush as well. Maybe it’s been holding me back all this time."
You winced at the thought of Bill kissing Beverly and how that would have absolutely devastated you when you were younger. "Yeah, I'm starting to come to that realization for myself as well."
Ben glanced to you, confusion clear in his expression, before he seemed to recall your crush on Bill. "Shit, Y/N, I'm sorry. I guess we're both in the same boat."
"A little," you agreed with a laugh. "But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I've left those feelings in the past. Maybe there was a tiny glimmer of hope when Bill mentioned he was fresh from a divorce, but it was never going to be me. And I'm okay with that. Really," you assured Ben when he shot you a dubious look. “I’m more worried about you right now than myself,” you admitted as you reached out to pat him on the shoulder.
"You were always there for me, you know," he said with a small, sincere smile on his face. “I remember that now. Remember when I was so upset when Beverly left town? You came to my house and we danced to New Kids until we wanted to puke.” His smile turned fond as he seemed to be thinking about all of the time you spent together as kids.  
You felt a little thrill when you realized he was feeling fond because of you. It was followed swiftly with the sinking feeling in your gut at the acknowledgement that Ben still had feelings for Beverly. It seemed like you were destined to always chase the members of the Losers' Club who had crushes on Beverly.  
"Even when I wasn't always there for you," he continued with a frown. "I don't think I would have made it through that summer without you to help get me through it."
"You would have been fine," you reassured him with a careful grin as you bumped your shoulder into his. "You're Ben Handsome. You can do anything."
He gifted you with another smile, but you weren't quite sure what this one meant. It was one you weren't used to seeing directed at you and before you could try to figure it out, you were startled by the sound of Eddie yelling and Beverly screaming.  
You jumped up from the bed and rushed from the room to see Eddie fall to his knees just outside his room. He was bleeding from a gash in his cheek, a look of shock on his face when he looked at you and Ben. "Bowers is in my room," he said before he managed to practically collapse down onto the floor.  
Beverly was already kneeling in front of him, taking stock of his wound, while Ben quickly brushed past you and into Eddie's room.  
"Is it bad?" You heard Eddie ask as you followed after Ben, not wanting him to face Henry Bowers alone, especially if Henry was armed.  
You couldn't believe that with everything else going on, you had managed to forget about the childhood bully who had been locked up for the past twenty-seven years. You remembered the whispers around town after it was discovered that Henry had killed his father. He had babbled on and on about a clown and red balloons and you knew that Pennywise was partly to blame. You couldn't help but wonder if Pennywise had freed Henry Bowers from the institution as another way of messing with the Losers' Club. After all, Pennywise and Henry did seem to have a common enemy.  
"He's gone," Ben told you when he realized you had followed him. "Must've jumped out the window."
"Fuck," you groaned, knowing that Henry was likely going to go after someone else now. None of you were really safe as long as he was wandering around town and armed. "We've got to help Eddie and then we should get to the library. I don’t think that’s the last we’ve seen of Henry."
When you got back out into the hallway, it was to see Beverly trying to help Eddie stand.  
"Sorry about the blood, Y/N," Eddie said as he let Beverly lead him back into his room. "That's going to be a bitch to get out."
"It's fine, Eds," you assured him before you moved to leave the room. "I'll be right back," you called before you quickly hurried downstairs in search of a first aid kit.  
It wasn't until after Ben had done his best to patch Eddie up that you realized there was something wrong. Someone was missing from the group.  
"Where's Bill?" You asked with a frown as you glanced to Beverly. "I thought he was here."
"He left," she admitted with a wince. "He thinks that kid from the restaurant is in trouble. The one who knew your brother? He left before I could stop him."
When Beverly mentioned your brother, you realized what else was wrong.  
"Oh shit," you groaned. "Where the fuck is Richie?"
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film-clown · 5 years
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IT Chapter 2
After endlessly mourning over IT Chapter 2, I’m ready to talk about it.
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Obviously, spoiler alert. Major ones.
SO. I’m speechless. Like, I’m ready to talk about it but I can’t even form words because.. wow.
I’m gonna start off by saying that this wasn’t even a horror movie. 2-3 jump-scares, plus the woman with the hanging tits that tried to scare Beverly. That shit wasn’t even horror - it was COMEDY. And if they thought that making Ben see Beverly’s hair on fire while she yelled “YOUR HAIR IS WINTER FIRE”, wasn’t gonna make me laugh? They were wrong. They were extremely wrong, I was laughing way too hard in the theatre and I felt horrible considering what Pennywise/Beverly made Ben hear from her right before. Shit made me sad, but goddamn.
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This was a coming-of-age film. That’s all I will categorise it as, because that’s what it deserves to be called. No way was this horror. The scenes where they transitioned from being adults to kids or vice versa, and the numerous flashbacks, all of it was emotional as hell. Nostalgic, intimate, the way I felt watching these scenes as a teenager, scared of what the future holds and not ready to let go of my childhood, it’s overwhelming, to say the least. They did such a perfect job on the nostalgia of it all and my tears are there as proof. I can let out more, if they need it.
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Okay now, trigger warning: Abuse/Domestic violence. Just this part, though.
As a domestic violence survivor, since the first movie I’ve had such a affectionate connection to Beverly. Chapter 2 carried it on quite well, and graphically. It’s one of the things I’m glad they continued that from the book; although it was triggering and deeply upsetting. She had to deal with her father when she was a child, and then her husband? The scene at the beginning with her husband was an asset to the film, and displaying the bruises and marks on her body throughout the film, while she’s with the Losers Club (mostly) happy with them, it brings me more of a... progressive vibe? I’m not quite sure how to explain it, but to think that she has the men from the Losers Club in her life who treat her well and love her, it makes me happy. She deserved so much better though.
SPEAKING OF BEVERLY.. Y’all already know what I’m about to go off about.
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Ben and Beverly. I don’t even think I cried as much in Avengers: Endgame as I did at just that scene with Ben and Beverly where they were both stuck in those visuals that Pennywise was giving them (Bev in that bathroom stall with blood, and Ben in the clubhouse). Ben finally yelling that it was him who wrote the postcard, and saying I love you - all of that leading up to them eventually ending up together like they were meant to be. The art of these lovers coming back to one another and still being just as in love with one another as they were as kids? An extraordinary love story.
Now I’m going to write a 37 page long essay about how much I love Richie and Eddie and how they deserved better. Okay?
Before I start, I’d like to take several moments of silence for the Hammock Scene. They were in LOVE.
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Alright. If I wasn’t already crying enough over Eddie dying at the end, they made Richie re-scratch “R+E” into the bridge. It is heartbreaking, truly, back when they were kids it was so looked down on to be gay, and they show that with Henry Bowers and his gang constantly throwing homophobic slurs at the Losers Club. Now, after 27 years when Richie and Eddie are finally brought back together, they fall in love all over again just for Eddie to be taken away like that? And when they all had to get out of that cave, they had to literally drag Richie away from Eddie’s body. At that point, I had put my popcorn on the floor to fucking sob. I’m not over-exaggerating. There were so many small details that fuelled the arc of their love in this film. Everything about Reddie in this film cause so much emotional distress, but I still loved it. When I left the theatre, I felt like I couldn’t talk about, let alone watch the film again without sobbing, but now I just want to go watch it again. After everything the Losers Club went through together, from the bullying and homophobia, to Pennywise, to the PTSD of the events from Chapter 1, I wish they had all gotten a happy ending. But alas, Stephen King and his endings.
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The Losers Club going to the quarry after killing Pennywise, everybody supporting Richie, it was sentimental as all hell and I just wanna say that I love them so much. I am so emotionally attached to the cast, the characters, everything.
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Stanley’s death definitely put me in agony, and just goes to show how heavy the trauma was on the Losers Club. My baby Stanley has always been so afraid, rightfully, and to think about having to go back while in that process of trying to move on from those events - it had to have been painful. Watching it was painful too, the scene came so suddenly and it was super triggering for audiences. And unfortunately, my brain categorised this film as “trauma” and I forgot almost everything that was written in Stanley’s letter. But all I do know is that he deserved better, and the Losers Club certainly did NOT deserve to be taunted by his death like that. They won for him, though. Life or death, they stuck with each other and did each other justice. My favourites.
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Bill Skarsgård’s performance in this film was AMAZING. Pennywise didn’t get as much character arc or plot in Chapter 1, so we didn’t get a chance to admire his talent as much. Every actor did such an amazing acting job this film and I truly admire James Ransone for accurately having the same chaotic energy as Jack Dylan Grazer onscreen. Spot on performance. The casting job was flawless, both the behaviour and looks of the older/younger cast match each other so precisely.
I’m not sure how this affected other people, but it did affect me; the idea that these friends went through SO much shit as kids, and still (mostly) managed to make it out alive. Bill became an author, Richie became a comedian - it’s hope, so per se. I hope everyone who sometimes loses hope, watches this movie and knows that if they made it out, you can too.
Honourable mention to the film score. Beautiful and haunting, all at once.
And one last thing,
“If you find someone worth holding onto, never ever let them go.”
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Chapter 2: Funny Feeling
Story: Why Can’t This Be Love
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Art of Eddie and Richie by @whatidoisxsecret
Located on Archive of Our Own
___
Eddie’s leg was bouncing up and down quickly as he sat in the semi-empty Thai food restaurant. Mike and him always had lunch at on Wednesday. It started after Mike’s dad died for a source of comfort. Not that Eddie felt qualified in any way to comfort someone after the death of a parent when he could barely remember his own father, but Mike meant a lot to him. He needed someone who would listen. Who would not change the subject because they were uncomfortable like Bill, or make an inappropriate joke like Richie, or avoid the topic of fathers altogether like Beverly had every right to do. Ben used to come before his big promotion, it had him traveling too much now. That left, Eddie, who would listen, nod, give some thoughts, but mostly just be there for Mike.
They kept up their lunch dates long after Will Hanlon’s death because it was special to them. If there were a couple of dishes they both wanted, they would get them and share. Mike always got a dessert that Eddie would mooch from. Spending one on one time with Mike was easy, never worrisome.
For once, Eddie was especially nervous today because he had to lie to Mike. Lying to his friends was not his forte. He knew how to lie or fudge the truth, it was an important ability he developed living under his mother’s strict roof. The question wasn’t whether he could do it or not but the guilt might eat at him.
This was all Richie’s FAULT. Last night when he suggested they be each other’s dates to Ben and Beverly’s wedding, Eddie was so caught off guard that he found himself agreeing. Well, not exactly saying yes, but he certainly didn’t say no. He told Richie he would think about it. The idea was actually brilliant, the only problem would be convincing their friends they were dating and not just using a loophole in the ‘Eddie and Richie must have wedding dates’ rule.
He wasn’t even necessarily nervous to pretend to be Richie’s date. In fact, he found himself a little exhilarated at the prospect. Their conversation about how to handle this didn’t get very far, but Richie said they would have to start dropping hints to the losers club immediately. It wouldn’t be enough to be each other’s date, they must convince everyone they liked each other as more than best friends. It was this part that sent him into a bit of a spiral.
“Sorry, I’m late!” Mike came flying into him for a quick hug, almost tipping him out of the chair, then sat across picking up his menu. Eddie looked at the tired, yet caffeine-fueled human in front of him fondly. Mike was a handsome and extremely good-hearted man. It always surprised him that Mike was single, but Eddie had a feeling he was looking for the kind of true love his parents’ possessed. Which wouldn’t be easy to replicate as the Hanlons were a beautiful couple.
“You’re fine.” Eddie waved him off. “I’ve just been suffering from the boredom of waiting for you.”
Mike rolled his eyes, “So much suffering. I bet you were texting Richie the whole time.”
“No, I wasn’t!” his eyes flashed in irritation. He hadn’t been, nevermind that normally he would be texting Richie. Right now he felt a little nauseous thinking about it. “My life doesn’t revolve around him.”
Mike laughed, “No need to bite my head off.” Eddie rolled his eyes but begrudgingly smiled.
“So why were you late?” Eddie asked.
“Boss needed me to show a new employee around the library.” Mike picked up the menu. “She seems nice.”
“Nice?” Eddie raised an eyebrow in surprise. His friend tended to be very private about people he might find attractive. It was vital he stayed cautious, if not also a bit nosy, when trying to ask questions. He hesitated then, “Are you interested in her?” Then immediately regretted it as that was probably too much too fast. So much for cautious.
Mike glanced over the top of his menu clearly debating how much to reveal. His dark eyes were steady with internal conflict. “Maybe? She’s a knockout that’s for sure. So how was dinner last night? Any new news?”
He nodded still wanting to push the subject further but he had the job of leaving hints about his own fake dating life. He considered how to do this then a crazy idea came to him.
Without meeting Mike’s eyes, Eddie started by saying, “Mike...I think I am gay.” He couldn’t believe he just said those words aloud.
A gasp and smile came from Mike’s lips, “Oh wow! I…” He was completely thrown for what to say. “Thank you for sharing that. How do you feel?”
“A little sick to be honest.” Eddie groaned. He should not have done that. It was a mistake. Suddenly, his breathing picked up in a telltale sign of a panic attack emerging.
“Hey, hey…that’s ok.” Mike reassured him gently, he reached forward to pat Eddie’s hand comfortingly.
“I told Richie too.” Eddie gasped out, breathing evening back out with his friend’s kindness. Silence ensued as Mike clearly tried to control his facial expressions. This was Eddie’s chance, he gulped heavily. “I’m happy Richie knows.”
Mike hesitated then said, “Oh yeah?”
Eddie nodded, “Ya know, because he’s...he’s Richie.” He’s my person. But Eddie didn’t want to say that out loud and offend Mike, someone just as important. “I don’t know how I am going to tell Ben and Bev when they JUST told Richie and me about this ‘Have to take a date to their wedding’ deal.” Eddie bit the bottom of his lip. “Thanks for not warning me by the way.” He said sarcastically, removing his hand from underneath Mike’s.
Mike opened his mouth to defend himself but the waitress swooped in to grab their food and drink orders. She gave Eddie a wink when he asked for his meal, which reddened his cheeks a bit in embarrassment. People flirting with him always made him uncomfortable. Except with Richie, he was the only person Eddie could laugh off the flirting easily. Most likely from years of dealing with it.
After she walked away, Mike turned to Eddie with a determined expression, “You had to know they would ask something like this of you. Stanley’s wedding was bad enough then Bill’s, you both need someone to rein you in.”
A spark of rage ignited within Eddie, he was always easily angered when pushed. “Those were rough fucking times for me! And last year was hard as fuck on Richie with the death of his dad. You should understand of all people.”
Mike’s lips pursed and he spoke very slowly, “I do understand, Eddie. But this day is about Beverly and Ben. They get to ask whatever the fuck they want from any of us.”
“It’s embarrassing, Mike.” Eddie’s voice was rising in pitch and volume as a familiar panic started to set in. “Forcing me to get a date and, in turn, now I have to come out to them to explain why the person I am bringing will be a guy. It wasn’t fair of them to put me and Richie on the spot like that! You knew! You should have said something.” As all of this rolled out of Eddie’s mouth, a crazy dawning hit him. He might actually...be...no...he can’t be. Can he?
Mike listened carefully before sighing loudly. He looked away from Eddie then back at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Eddie nodded. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
They got interrupted by the waitress coming with their food and drinks. The meals smelled incredible but neither of them touched their food. Mike clearly wanted to say more from the tense way his jaw twitched.
“I really didn’t think about it, Eddie. I’m sorry you were put in that position.” Mike gave the saddest expression that made his tired face look even more burdened.
Eddie was never able to stay mad at his friends for long. “You apologized. Good enough for me.” And almost as a sign of peace, Eddie reached over and took a spoonful of Mike’s Pad Thai. “So tell me about the library girl.”
Mike beamed at him. “Her name is Carole Danners…”
Eddie marched forward like a soldier ready for war. He got to the door of Richie’s apartment and knocked. There was a thump and yell from inside. Richie must have been napping then fell off the couch. Which made sense since he worked the night shift at the Radio station and did standup many nights.
Eddie was losing his resolve with every passing second. It was taking far too long for Richie to answer. His feet started carrying him away from the stoop then the door flung open.
Richie’s hair was messy, sticking out everywhere. Eddie was annoyed at how his cheeks warmed seeing Richie shirtless and wearing only boxers.
Now, he isn’t blind or an idiot, Eddie knows Richie is really good looking. He’s known the guy through braces, the growth spurt, his skin clearing and the mercy of puberty turning him into a beautiful man. Richie works out to keep fit for industry standards, he has a soft stomach from still eating junk and too much beer, his eyes are ocean blue behind stylish glasses, jaw defined, and overall unfair attractiveness.
Richie leaned on the doorframe with a smirk. “You going to stand there and drool over my sexiness or come inside?”
Eddie frowned, shoved past him and into the apartment. “I wasn’t drooling you turd. And you aren’t sexy, you’re a nerd.”
“So what do I owe the pleasure of your company, besides the obvious of enjoying your company always.” Richie plopped down on his couch and patted the seat next to him. Except Eddie didn’t feel like sitting yet. He went over to the record that was playing a Queen song. Richie always had music playing, he could barely go 30 minutes without some kind of sound surrounding him. It was particularly bad in school when he would finish tests quickly then bring out his headphones to try listening to something. Teachers hated it.
“I want to go as each others’ dates for the wedding.” He heard Richie get up from the couch, then a hand came on his shoulder to turn him around. Those blue eyes searched his own greyish-brown ones for a minute. The scrutiny made Eddie feel exposed, so he shrugged him off changing the record to a song by Aretha Franklin. “I’m serious. Whatever it takes for us to go together, I will do it.”
This seemed enough for Richie. “Fuck yes! This will be so fun.”
“It won’t be fun to lie.” Eddie groaned.
Richie ignored this as he said, “We need to plan. It has to be convincing. Some of our friends may not believe us.”
“I told Mike I am gay.” Eddie blurted out. Richie’s eyes widened in shock, which looked huge behind his thick glasses. His big mouth opened in a dumb gaped way, “And he fucking believed me which I feel says something about me that I am not sure I want to tackle at the moment.”
“Oh shit,” Richie laughed and gave an air of completely impressed. “No, you fucking didn’t!”
“Yeah, I fucking DID. He sat there and was proud of me.” Eddie paused. “Richie, do I give off gay vibes?”
“Er…” Richie shifted from one foot to the other, while rubbing the back of his neck. “How should I know?”
“Bowers used to call us faggots all the time…”
“Eds, that was just one of the few words in Bowers’ vocabulary. You can’t possibly take it seriously.”
Eddie studied Richie for a second longer. “You're probably right. I’m overthinking this.”
“Definitely. No more thinking.”
“You do enough lack of thinking for both of us," Eddie stated, to which Richie barked out a laugh. "Ok. What do we do?”
Richie frowned in confusion, “What do we do what?”
“About pretending to date!” Eddie felt small and vulnerable. This situation was not ideal for him, either of them. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why so many hang-ups were emerging, him and Richie messed with their friends all the time. This felt different, more dangerous, disrespectful maybe or...too real perhaps.  
Richie must’ve sensed Eddie was in his head as he slung a long arm around his shoulders leading them to the couch.
“So, first we have to pretend to date,” Richie informed him. This reminder made Eddie grimace. Going as wedding dates was one thing but actively dating would be a challenge. “It’s the only way to convince them it’s genuine and not a trick.”
“Dating to go to one wedding together is risky, Rich. What if you find someone you are actually interested in?”
“Eds, you know my track record is all over the place. I’ve never held a girlfriend for more than a couple of months.”
“You dated Sandy for 3 years and lived with her for 2 and a half.” Eddie stated bitterly.
“Right, blocked Sandy out,” said Richie, obviously lying. He rarely ever brought her up and never talked about why they broke up. Eddie always figured she thought Richie wasn’t mature enough. Whenever the subject of marriage came up, he used to make a joke about them being too young or that she wouldn’t want to marry him. Until one day she stopped him in front of everyone and said she did want to get married so what did he have to say about that. They broke up the next day. Eddie never told Richie he was happy about that break up because he knew it wouldn’t go over well, but Sandy always tried to change Richie. To do that to the most immovable force in Eddie’s life was unforgivable in his book. “Anyway, don’t worry about me. But if you want to date someone within the next year, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Eddie shook his head aggressively, “Definitely not up to actually dating someone.”
Richie placed his hand over his heart. “Hurtful.”
“Asshole.” Eddie grumbled and poked Richie’s forehead hard.
He rubbed the spot but smiled fondly. “I’ll be your practice subject for your future soulmate.” The sentiment didn’t reach Richie’s eyes. Probably because Richie doesn’t believe in soulmates or something.
“Alright,” Eddie took a deep breath, “Should we make rules?”
Richie ran a hand through his hair making it stick up more. “Like what?”
He fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch, he toed off his shoes, then leaned back bringing his feet up. “Like ‘If we start developing feelings, we end it.’.”
He couldn’t be sure but he swore Richie looked at his lips before saying, “What makes you think we will develop feelings for each other?”
Eddie stared at the small burn in Richie’s couch instead of his eyes. To this day, Beverly has never admitted that the burn is from her leaving a lit cigarette down for too long. Everyone convinced Richie he burned his own couch when drunk and trying to light up a cig. The lie has been going on since college, far too long, so none of the losers can ever tell him. It’s one of the only secrets Eddie keeps from Richie.
He decided to ignore Richie's question saying, "You make up a rule now."
"Er..." Richie thought for a little bit then, "‘Kissing in public to prove it is fine, but not in private’?"
"AND NO TONGUE!" Eddie insisted. "I used to hate when Myra wanted to french kiss. She of all people should know how many germs are in a mouth. More than a toilet!"
"Ya really had a rockin' affair there with Myra the hydra. Didn't ya, Eds." Richie was smirking.
“Also, ‘We cannot tell anyone or any of the losers no matter what’.” said Eddie with a bit of warning tone thrown into his voice.
“I’d be more worried about YOU not being able to tell anyone.” Richie lightly hit Eddie’s leg. “You’re the one who can’t keep a secret for shit.”
“I haven’t told a soul that you were my first kiss at 11!” Eddie argued.
“Yeah, cause it’s embarrassing as fuck. Actually, we can have that be an anecdote now!” Richie said excitedly. “Thank god, that secret was fucking eating me alive.”
Eddie laughed a belly-busting laugh. Richie had this way about him, he could diffuse the most awkward situations. Deciding to do this was about as awkward as it could get with them. When Eddie’s laughter subsided, he asked, “So how did we start dating? This is also weird because it’s going from secret dating to dating. We will need solid stories.”
Richie leaned back on the couch and thought about it for a bit. “Ok. I got it. We can literally blame it on Beverly and Ben. They forced us to bring dates, you come out of the closet to everyone which in turn gets me thinking differently about you. So I make a move and…”
“Why do you get to make the first move? And why do I have to come out of the closet to everyone?!”
“I’m more ambitious than you and you keep fewer secrets, so you have to come out first. Also, you already fake came out to Mike, so the rest should be easy.”
“But I’m bolder in my actions!” Eddie surprised himself with that one. But he was getting to know himself better lately, and one of the things he prided in was taking action when necessary. “Case in point, coming out to people, so I could’ve made the first move!”
“Fine. How about, we both drank too much one night and started making out but have no idea who kissed who first because we both just went at it. Sound good?”
“Yes,” Eddie nodded. “And...um...we didn’t want to tell anyone because we had no idea if it was a one-time thing or like something real.”
Richie bounced a little in his seat enjoying the storytelling. “AND! We didn’t want to ruin the friend dynamic without being sure it worked.”
Eddie’s stomach felt queasy talking about this. He wanted to be excited like Richie, usually, when they schemed he was all in, but this time he wanted to vomit. The stakes were so high. “Perfect. Alright, let's decide who finds out first.”
“Bill should catch us,” Richie suggested. “Everyone will believe him. Also, the look on his dumb face will be beyond fucking worth it.”
“Don’t call Bill dumb, Richie.” Eddie chastised. Richie rolled his eyes, which he let slide. “I agree about him catching us though. He’s most likely to confront the situation too. Ben, Mike, and even Beverly might keep it to themselves.”
“In general, we should drop hints like ‘I think I like someone but I don’t want to say who’ or ‘I’m hooking up with this cutie who has an ass you can slap day and ni…’”
Eddie smacked the side of Richie’s face with his foot, knocking off his glasses, “No jokes about my ass!” Richie hit him in the chest because he couldn’t see Eddie properly. Eddie launched himself toward Richie sitting on his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Eddie grabbed a couch pillow shoving it harshly in Richie’s face. He tried to fling Eddie off but couldn’t get a proper grip on him. He stopped struggling and tapped Eddie’s leg asking to be free.
Eddie paused realizing one flaw in the plan. He removed the pillow, hyper-aware of Richie’s hand still on his thigh but he should probably get used to the touching. “There is only one person I’m super worried about believing us.”
Their eyes met ominously as they said at the same time, “Stanley.”
___________
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anotherfanficblog · 4 years
Text
What Is This Feeling So Sudden And New?: Chapter 2
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Pairing: Richie x Eddie
Word Count: 1828
Warnings: Swearing
Masterlist
AO3
...................
Richie and Stan watched as Bill and Eddie carried Richie’s stuff into the dorm. Eddie was talking to Bill about something and it was clearly funny as Bill let out a hearty laugh. Stan sighs wistfully. “Hear that Richie?” Stan asked his friend.
“What?” Richie asked confused.
“His laugh almost as if a choir of angels are singing just for me,” Stan said going into what Richie referred to as ‘heart eyes mode’. Richie’s eyes flicked between Stan and Bill and he raised his eyebrows.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid are you?” Richie asked.
“Like what?”
“The M-word” Richie said accusingly.
“No. Of course not” Stan said his voice slightly higher than usual “but it wouldn’t be such a bad idea though would it?”
“If you say so,” Richie said turning around to unpack some of his things.
“You don’t think he’s gorgeous?” Stan asked.
“He’s very nice Stan,” Richie said blandly “I just prefer something a little less…obvious”
“Like what?” Stan asked confused “I mean who?”
“I don’t know,” Richie thought for a moment “him I suppose.” Stan looked to where Richie was gesturing to surprisingly see Eddie.
“Eddie!” Stan said shocked.
“Yeah it’s a purely objective statement,” Richie said, “like saying you prefer a Ferrari to a Porsche.”
“Bit rude isn’t it, comparing men to cars,” Stan said.
“Depends on the car” Richie joked “he’s a very attractive guy, Eddie… Or at least he would be if he wasn’t such a small carnivorous dinosaur with vicious little teeth.” As Richie was saying this Eddie walked past and flipped Richie off.
“Velociraptor” Stan stated.
“Yeah exactly.” Richie made his way over to Eddie eager to annoy him just a little more. It was one of his favourite past times. “Just discussing our favourite dinosaurs” Richie said.
“I’m sure” Eddie replied not looking up from his phone. A pause fell over the two.
“Eds-“
“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie said quickly.
“Can I speak honestly?” Richie asked.
“I don’t know can you?” Eddie quipped still not looking at Richie.
“Why do you hate me so much?” Richie asked.
“I don’t know perhaps it’s the way you care about nobody but yourself, you’re loud obnoxious and you think that you’re better than everyone else despite you very clearly being worse,” Eddie said bitterly.
“Pretty sure it’s just cos I bet you in that fourth-grade spelling bee” Richie teased.
“You’re impossible” Eddie huffed, storming away.
………………….
Almost a week had passed of Richie and Eddie living together and the entire dorm complex had had enough. They’d received noise complaint after noise complaint, the police were even called at one stage as someone passing by had heard the fighting and though there was a domestic violence issue afoot. Turns out Richie had just hidden Eddie’s laptop.
To try to avoid any further police intervention Stan and Bill decided to talk to Richie and Eddie the night of Henry’s party to try and get them to calm down a little bit.
Bill and Eddie were getting ready at Eddie’s dorm. Bill was going as Marty Mcfly from Back to the Future and Eddie was going as Harry Potter. As the pair were getting ready Bill was trying to coerce Eddie into getting along with Richie.
“I’m not saying you guys need to become best friends or anything but just try not to fight so much” Bill sighed feeling like what he was saying was landing on deaf ears. Eddie went to object but Bill persisted “And if you must fight do it in hushed tones as to not wake the dead.”
Eddie went to object again but saw the distressed look on Bills face and realised that maybe he should consider his friend’s feelings before his own. With a heavy sigh, Eddie admitted defeat “I suppose I should try to be civil. Like you said it’s only for one year and then I’ll never have to see his ugly face again.”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Bill said with a small smile not allowing himself to get his hopes up quite yet “you know if you actually gave Richie a chance I actually think that you two would get along well.”
“Okay, Bill let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Eddie laughed.
“No, I mean it. I have a feeling that you’d be great friends… Maybe even more” Bill smirked.
Eddie rolled his eyes “Jesus Christ you get one boyfriend and suddenly you think that everyone should be in love.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t want a boyfriend?” Bill asked.
“I’m not saying that… I’m just saying that even the idea of me and Richie ever forming some sort of relationship is absurd.” Bill simply nodded his head, but Eddie saw the smug look on his face. “C’mon let’s get going. I need a fucking drink.”
………………….
Down the hall, Richie and Stan were getting ready. They were both going as Spider-man upon Richie’s insistence so that they could recreate the Spider-man meme. Stan was giving Richie a very similar talk to the one Bill gave Eddie.
“Come on Richie can’t you be the bigger person here and just move past whatever differences you have?” Stan asked exasperated.
“But Stan-” Richie tried to plead.
“No buts Richie!” Stan said loudly before softening his voice “I’ve really like living with Bill for these past days it feels so amazing just to wake up every morning and have his beautiful face be the first thing I see. Please don’t ruin this for me.” Richie finally saw who he was hurting, it wasn’t Eddie it was Stan and Richie felt terrible.
“Okay,” Richie said quietly and Stan’s entire face illuminated with joy.
“Thank you, Richie,” Stan said pulling Richie in for a hug “now let’s go get wasted.”
…………………..
At the party, the group had split up all electing to get wasted in different corners of the very loud and much-crowed frat house. While it was a rare sight to see Bill and Stan not together Stan had something else on his mind that he didn’t want Bill to find out. Stan sat in a corner of the house fiddling with a ring box talking silently to himself “it would be my honour if… no… I humbly ask you to consider… I’d be over the moon if-”
“Nice to see you here,” a voice said making Stan jump. Stan turned to see Henry who had come dressed as the joker now standing next to him, this immediately made Stan tense.
“Henry” Stan acknowledge the man next to him “having fun?”
“Oh you know me,” Henry said “crying on the inside.”
“So Bill eh? Smart move” Henry said taking a puff of his cigarette.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan asked defensively.
“Nothing,” Henry said putting his hands up “just that he’s a very pretty boy that’s all… very popular.” Stan followed Henry’s eye line to see Bill and Richie standing too close for Stan’s liking. Stan knew that Richie was a flirt but he wouldn’t go so far as to flirt with Stan’s boyfriend would he? He knew he wouldn’t do it sober but put a bit of alcohol in Richie and there’s no telling what he’ll do.
“I’m going to get another drink. Can I get you anything?” Henry asked Stan, didn’t respond to Henry and kept his eyes trained on Bill and Richie. “Stan?” Henry asked snapping Stan out of his trance.
“What?” Stan asked.
“Drink?”
“No, I’m good thanks,” Stan said walking over to where Bill and Richie were standing. As he approached the pair he heard Bill and Richie giggling like little school girls.
“Bev’s looking for you,” Stan said to Bill.
“Oh” Bill said seeing Stan appear “where?”
“Upstairs,” Stan said with a fake smiling as Bill walked off.
“Bye! Ciao!” Richie waved. Once Bill had left Stan pulled Richie aside.
“Give it a rest will you,” Stan said sternly.
“What? What have I done?” Richie asked.
Across the room, Eddie saw Stan and Richie talking and decided to go say hi as he’d mostly tried to avoid them all night. Well, he tried to avoid Richie and in turn had avoided Stan but Eddie quite enjoyed Stan’s company and wanted to say hi.
As Stan left to follow Bill Richie was left confused as to what he had done to annoy Stan he hadn’t picked any fights with Eddie or done anything particularly tenacious. Richie pulled down his Spider-man mask.
“Stan? Stan?” Richie heard someone shout from behind him. Richie turned to see Eddie.
“It is Stan isn’t it?” Eddie joked smiling. This left Richie confused until he realised that Eddie thought that he was Stan. “Come on, I haven’t seen you all evening let’s chat,” Eddie said grabbing Richie’s hand and pulling him to a nearby sofa.                                                                                             Richie looked around to see if there was a way to escape but found none.
‘Well shit’ he thought.
“Where’s your sidekick then Stan?” Eddie asked.
“Sidekick?” Richie asked confused.
“Probably making his way through the buffet” Eddie laughed “seeing how many chicken fingers he can fit into his mouth.”
“What do you mean?” Richie asked offended.
“Well let me put it this way. They say stress is supposed to make you lose weight so Richie’s final year of college must be the breeziest thing ever” Eddie said puffing out his cheeks.
Richie mumbled something that Eddie didn’t quite catch. “Sorry I can’t hear you, Stan. Why don’t you take your mask off?” Eddie offered.
“I said he still seems quite popular with the fellas and ladies,” Richie said defending himself.
“Yeah well, that’s what he likes you to believe,” Eddie said “But that long hair makes him look like someone’s dropped a ton of melted chocolate on his head. And has he started growing a beard because if so someone needs to tell him to stop, he looks like he’s got food smeared around his mouth.”
“Just as well you never have to kiss him then,” Richie said.
“And for that, I thank God every day.”
“I’ll tell Richie what you said,” Richie said threateningly.
“Fine tell him,” Eddie said, “he’ll just fire back with some smart ass remark and it won’t be funny or make sense and nobody will be listening to him anyway-”
Richie had heard enough at this point and got up “would you excuse me for one moment.”
“Stan?” Eddie asked, “Was it something I said?”
Richie saw his friend Mike dancing in the corner and decided he needed someone to vent to. Richie made his way over pulling his mask off his face. “Richie!” Mike said as he saw his friend approaching “just so you have some warning one of the boys have hired a karaoke machine-”
“He is Satan,” Richie said annoyed “he looks normal but he’s Satan in human form.”
“Who?” Mike asked confused.
“Eddie” Richie stated like it was obvious.
“Ah of course,” Mike said knowingly “come on let's get you a drink.”
.....................
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Sometimes . . . Dead Is Better
Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: IT Rating: E Warnings: Character Death, Zombie(?), Literally Pet Sematary. Gay bashing. Homophobia. Murder. Animal death. Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, lots of death.
Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild, @tozierking​,
You know what they say about Derry, no one who dies here ever really dies.
IT + Pet Semetary = fun times for no one involved
Part one
Richie woke up alone in bed, feeling more exhausted than he had in a while. He remembered being back in college, pulling all-nighters so he could study and then spending the entire morning and afternoon in the radio station on campus. It wasn’t a job and barely paid inexperience, but it counted towards his credits, so it was worth the lack of sleep.
He did this for an entire semester, only making it by thanks to an energy drink, ramen noodles, and the support of a very loving and attractive boyfriend who offered a warm bed when he could actually sleep and an even warming mouth when they decided to get frisky.
Now he was an adult, waking up in a bed that was not his own, in clothes that were covered in dirt and wrinkled from the rain. For a small moment, Richie had forgotten what happened. Forgot about the date night that led to disaster. Forgot seeing Eddie’s distorted body in the basement of the hospital. Forgot about bringing him to the burial ground.
And then it all came flooding back to him when Penny hopped up onto the bed, yipping at him with a strange array of annoyance. Penny had never been very strong and jumping high was out of character for her, but she got up onto the bed with very little issue. Richie pushed her away as he went to stand, inspecting the room around him and then out to the rest of the suite. There was no sign of anybody other than himself in the entire place.
He sat on the couch, letting the realization come over him. As Penny came towards him, Richie scooped the pup up, ignoring the growling as he held her in his arms.
“How did you come back?” He asked her in a heavy sigh. She growled, baring her teeth in an attempt to look menacing. “How the fuck are you here and he isn’t?”
Penny bit him then, right on the arm and Richie tossed the dog away. For a long moment, he thought perhaps it was nothing but a nightmare. Penny didn’t really die and was just turning into the bitch she was meant to be. Eddie was still at his mother’s and he didn’t suffer a horrible fate at the hand of off-duty officer Henry Bowers.
Pulling his glasses off, he set them onto the coffee table, rubbing a hand over his face as he went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. He hoped that they had packed enough liquor to spike his drink as it seemed like something he would need. A dash of bourbon never hurt anyone after all.
He heard the door open and he found that his suspicions were correct. All of this was just a horrible dream. He reentered the living room, intent on welcoming Eddie home, but he found himself unable to make any words.
Eddie had indeed back, except he didn’t look like Eddie. His vision might be blurry, but he knew what Eddie looked like well enough to spot the difference. The man standing in front of him was dirty from head to toe. His clothes were ripped and drenched, covered in blood and mud. His skin was darker, practically tainted by the dirt and there was a gaping hole in his cheek.
His eyes were bloodshot and his head was cocked slightly from the dislocation of his neck. There were bruises along his face, results of being punched repeatedly by Bowers.
Richie couldn’t scream. He couldn’t react. The coffee cup slipped from his head, shattering to the floor as the liquid inside splashed all around him. As Eddie stepped forward, Richie stepped back. It was a fluid dance between the two until Richie was pushed back against the corner where he crumbled to his feet, trembling into a frozen mess.
Eddie reached forward then, extending a dirty hand out until he was touching Richie’s face.
And suddenly, everything was a little less blurry. Eddie placed Richie’s glasses back onto his face, over his eyes so the sight was clear and the reality of the situation was a bit more real.
“Richie,” Eddie breathed out slowly. His voice was more of a gurgle, but Richie heard his own name enough to make it out. Eddie looked the other male slowly, those bloodshot eyes taking him in at he towered above him for the first time ever. “You’re dirty, Richie.” He muttered quietly.
“S-so is you,” Richie replied dumbly.
Eddie looked himself over, saying nothing. Richie couldn’t imagine Eddie was happy with how he looked. He was dirty all over, with bloody and mud-covered him head to toe. His clothes were destroyed and his hair was practically matted.
Richie stood slowly, leaning against the wall for support as he looked over his boyfriend. No. Fiancé. The ring was still on his finger; the white gold shining beside the mess. Richie reached out then, pulling Eddie into him. He held him closely, just taking in his very existence. He didn’t smell like the Eddie he knew, but he could fix that.
“Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
The bathroom wasn’t big like their one at home and it took some shifting for them to both fit into the shower, but they made it work. Richie only needed a quick rinse to take away the dirt on his body, but Eddie was a different story. He pushed him under the spray, lathering him up with the lavender soap Eddie packed from home since the shit they had here didn’t do anything for them except dry out their skin.
Slowly the water began to turn brown and then a slight red as the dried blood was swept from his body, and then finally black as he was completely washed off. He held onto his wrist a moment or two as he helped him out and found that he had no pulse. He was talking to him and responding with his own words, but he wasn’t breathing.
And yet he was alive.
“Is it bad?” Eddie asked as Richie inspected his wounds. They sat on the couch, sitting in their underwear after finally cleaning themselves up.
The bruises could be hidden away with medical supplies or makeup. Wasn’t the first time they had used it to hide the marks that had been given to them by bullies. Being gay in a small town wasn’t something Richie would ever suggest to anyone.
The hole in his cheek was no longer bleeding but was still there. Richie didn’t know if he could bring him to the hospital to fix it or if he should just sew it up himself.
He chose the latter, mostly because if the hospital might be a bit concerned about his lack of plus and also the last time he was there, he was a corpse.
“It’s fine. I’m gonna make it better.” He promised, going into Eddie’s carry on bag so he could get the emergency sewing skit out. Nothing about this was ideal and he waited for Eddie to snap at him for even thinking of doing makeshift stitching, but nothing came. Eddie just sat there quietly, waiting for Richie to get it over with. He used a lighter to sanitize the needle, gently kissing Eddie’s wound before setting in to fix the hole.
He didn’t jolt or make any movement. It didn’t even seem to hurt him. Eddie just sat there, letting Richie fix the hole in his face before he patched it up with a facial bandage.
“There. Gorgeous like always.” He swore, kissing his lips softly.
He stayed pressed against him, sighing in softly. He still didn’t smell like himself, but rather a bit of lavender and something else. Eddie leaned into him, his hand lacing his fingers around Richie’s as they sat and held one another for a moment.
For a short while, it felt like everything was okay in the world. Eddie was back and so was Penny, who had circled at Eddie’s feet like old times They were sitting together as a small little family as they did before.
Eddie was watching him for a moment, those bloodshot eyes focusing on his face before leaning in to kiss him. It was deeper than before, a bit more sloppy. Eddie’s head was cocked slightly from his snapped neck and his arm was twisted a strange way from how he had fallen from the water.
He stood then, using his second arm to adjust his first, snapping it back into its socket. The sound was harsh and had Richie jumping in disgust. He used his hands and twisted his own head back into a proper position; the sound of cracking bones hitting Richie’s stomach in such a terrible way.
Eddie kissed him after that, fingers with nails that had dirt pushed underneath gripped onto his face as their kiss deepened in a way that showed Richie that the man meant business.
Richie walked backward, letting Eddie lead him back to their bedroom. They had done this before; the endless need and want for one another. Their college years had been filled with quick fucks in their dorms or their cars or really any space they could fit into.
As they got older and leased their first apartment, they made use of the space and the small bed that came with it. And as they got older and purchased their larger space that they currently resided in, they used every surface for their own benefit.
Of course, they were older now. Hitting thirty just this year. They didn’t have time to constantly have sex, but they enjoyed their time together, using any excuse they could to have a date night. If Richie’s podcast lasted longer than expected he would bring home takeout and they’d sit on the couch, feeding one another and stealing nips and kisses. If Eddie woke up early to go jogging, he would bring home smoothies and wake Richie up in the most delicious of ways.
Now was just like those times. Eddie came back, not from a jog but the dead, and even if he didn’t wake Richie up, he was still surprising him nonetheless. Eddie had another worldly sense of desire him in and Richie allowed the other man to lead the way.
They weren’t wearing anything other than their boxers, so undressing wasn’t necessary. The small barrier between them was removed and Eddie pushed Richie onto the bed, kissing him deeply as his hand wrapped around Richie’s now awakened member.
They were rushing, though Richie had no idea why. Maybe Eddie was just so happy to be back that he didn’t want to waste another second? He didn’t know nor could he fully care. While Eddie took the time to unpack all their bags, Richie had very little idea where anything was. Lube was something they always packed as you never knew when you’d need it, but where the bottle had been stashed was up the air.
Eddie didn’t seem to mind, however. He licked his palm slowly, lathering it up before going back to jerking Richie off. Eddie had always hated to use spit for lube. It never fully worked and always made for difficult lovemaking. They kept multiple bottles on hand from this point on, though something told Richie that whatever switch inside Eddie’s head that cared for such little things was temporarily flipped off.
When Eddie deemed Richie’s cock ready, he moved closely onto his hips. Normally the man would prep himself; even make somewhat of a show of it. Something about watching Eddie figure himself was far too delicious for Richie to put into words, but there was no prep this time around. He straddled Richie’s hips and forced himself downwards, taking Richie’s cock inside of him without any words or thoughts exchanged.
He was tighter than usual thanks to the lack of lube and preparation. They had stopped using condoms after college; an expression that the use was bad for the environment and they were smart enough to get themselves checked out every six months, even if they were exclusive.
All Richie could do was lie back and watch as Eddie fucked himself on him. He was enjoying it, obviously, but he found himself practically transfixed on his lover. The way he handled himself was so different from the timid man who would blush as he gave a blow job. Sure, Eddie could be sexy and could get wild during sex, but there was always an air of embarrassment to it. He knew what he was doing was normal but to be seen like that when he was normally such a sweet little thing was almost too much for him to handle.
Now he was riding Richie like he was a bull at a rodeo, circling his hips in ways that Richie hadn’t seen since they were in college, hopped up on energy drinks and sheer lust. Richie pulled Eddie down to him for another kiss, crying out as Eddie bit his lip. Blood escaped the small wound but Eddie licked it away, releasing a shout of his own as he arched his back, moving faster on top of Richie as his hands spread out against his chest to find his own leverage.
It was over before either realized, with Richie finishing deep inside of his fiancé and Eddie on top of their stomachs. They were both left panting, something that surprised Richie as the last time he checked, Eddie didn’t have a pulse, though he couldn’t think hard enough to question it. He also couldn’t question how a man without any blood pumping through his veins was able to ejaculate. All he could do was be thankful for the impromptu fucking that arose from him returning.
Eddie moved off Richie, going to lay beside him on the bed. He was quiet for a moment, just staring at the other man for some time. He reached out, tentatively running a finger along Richie’s cheek.
“I missed you,” He whispered, his voice sounding more like himself.
Richie turned his head to look at him, ignoring the way his glasses pressed into his nose. He leaned forward, kissing Eddie slowly. He didn’t kiss back, but rather remained still and allowed Richie to have this moment.
Richie would take it for all it was worth.
They cleaned up again, this time choosing to get actually dressed. He helped Eddie pick something out, choosing simple jeans and a polo. He hoped that if Eddie looked like his normal self it would help him feel like his normal self.
There was a knock on the door in between their dressing and Richie left Eddie in the bedroom to go answer it. It was Mike, looking more frantic than when Richie last saw him.
“I’ve been calling you. Why haven’t you answered?”
Richie thought for a moment and realized his phone was still in the pocket of his muddy jeans, tossed off into the hamper with the rest of their clothing. “Sorry. Got distracted.”
“Rich, we have to talk about what you did.” Mike began, moving closer. Richie closed the door a bit more, allowing only his face and left the side of his body to be seen. Mike took in his body language, putting two and two together quite easily. “He’s back, isn’t he?”
“He is. And whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.” Richie told him. “We’re packing up our shit and we’re leaving. We’re gonna forget any of this ever happened.”
“It’s not that simple, Rich.”
“Mike!” Both turned their heads down the hall, watching as Bill and Stan hurried up the winding stairs. “Richie!”
Richie had forgotten all about the call that Mike had made at the hospital. He had no memory of his two closest friends promising to come all the way back to Maine so that they could help him handle such a heavy burden.
Richie stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him just as Bill came to pull him into a hug. “God. I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.” He muttered quietly.
“Mike said there was an accident. What happened?” Stan mentioned, swapping places with Bill to embrace their taller friend.
“Accident?” Richie mimicked. “Oh! Nothing. Fucking Bowers is as much of a cunt as he was back when we were kids.”
“He s-said Eddie d-d-didn’t make it.” Bill stuttered, looking between the two men.
Richie turned his head to look at Mike, and the darker-skinned man looked right back at him. He hadn’t been wrong when he called and told their friends the truth. There was an accident, or really, an attack. And Eddie hadn’t made it, though that all changed now.
The door swung open before anybody could say a word and Eddie stood there, those bloodshot eyes of his looking around the group. “Having a party without me?” He asked slowly.
Mike immediately stepped away, looking as if he was ready to jump over the banister if it meant putting space between himself and Eddie. Stan and Bill, looking utterly baffled, look in the sight of their best friend.
“What, did they resuscitate him?” Stan asked, searching for answers.
“Yes,” Richie replied back. “For a moment he died, but now he’s back. All stitched up and looking brand new.”
“I have to go,” Mike muttered, pushing passed Bill so he could make a run for it.
Stan and Bill watched as he went, all the while Eddie just turned to Richie, speaking quietly. “I don’t think Mike likes me very much.”
“He’s just stressed, honey.” Richie sighed, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He looked to Bill and Stan, extending his hand for them to enter their suite.
He told the two about the attack, leaving out the part where he found Eddie floating dead in the water, and choosing to focus on how the police wouldn’t take it seriously because Bowers was on the force.
“Are you surprised? His dad did all sorts of fucked up shit and got away with it scot-free.” Stan mentioned as they settled around the couch.
The room didn’t have much to offer aside from the couch and small tv. The one plus size was the radio in the corner, which Eddie had put on in hopes of simmering some of the tension.
They were all drinking coffee, except for Eddie, who held onto his cup without taking a sip. He didn’t speak much, though neither Bill or Stan questioned it. Richie played it off as them both still coping with what happened, with Eddie still harboring some shock to himself.
“I feel bad for you guys coming up here. Like a wasted trip.” Richie mentioned, standing to refill his cup in the kitchen.
“Call it an impromptu vacation!” Bill said slowly, watching his tongue to keep himself from stuttering. “Besides. Who doesn’t love coming back to visit?”
“Breath in that beautiful Derry air,” Richie muttered with a smirk, looking over the island.
He watched as Eddie set the mug down on the coffee table and walk over to the radio in the corner. The song had changed to a N*SYNC original that Richie had used to sing back when they were in college. It was a pretty decent song, though hearing it enough times on campus and the whole song basically becoming a meme overtime was enough to make anybody go mad.
“Just turn it off, babe.” He called out.
Rather than turning it off, however, Eddie took hold of the radio, lifting it like it didn’t weigh a thing, and flung it across the room until it shattered into dozens of pieces against the wall. Both Bill and Stan jumped from their seats, staring at the shorter male as he had suddenly grown a third head.
“Dude!”
“What the f-f-fuck, Eddie?”
“Well, you know him.” Richie laughed off, waving his hand casually. “He’s always been more of a Backstreet kind of guy. We’ll ugh, we’ll have to pay for that, babe.”
“Silence. Finally.” Eddie sighed, looking back to the others. He locked eyes with Richie, who kept his smile on even though he had very little idea of what to do intros situation.
“Hey, Eds? Why don’t you go lay down, hon? Take Penny with you and catch a few z’s?”
Richie half expected Eddie to rebuff him since he didn’t seem tired despite looking it, but he instead gave a sharp whistle, calling for the pom to follow him inside. Penny, who had been gnawing on a pair of Eddie’s shoes, followed him into the bedroom without question.
“Is he all right?” Stan asked after a moment.
Richie waved him away, brushing it off once again. “He’s fine. Just a lot to take in, you know? We’re going home tomorrow. I think we’ve had enough of Derry for a lifetime.”
“We can imagine.”
“So uh, was that a ring on Eddie’s finger?” Bill asked, quirking a brow to him.
Richie wanted to tell them how romantic the proposal had been. Maybe he would confess that it was the proposal that set Bowers off or maybe he’d lie and say it was everything anyone could have asked of. Regardless, he never got the chance to say anything on the matter.
The phone went off suddenly and Richie knew it wasn’t his. When Bill and Stan didn’t rush off to pick it up, he figured it had to be Eddie’s. Low and behold, Eddie’s phone sat idle on the counter, buzzing and ringing simultaneously. Richie flipped it over and saw it was Sonia. He sighed deeply, knowing if he didn’t respond she would just continue calling.
So he picked it up, allowing his future mother in law to scream in his ear about how he distracted her son enough for him to not call her in the past twenty-four hours. Richie tried to remember that it could have been a lot worse. That he could have had Sonia screaming at him and blaming him for the death of her son. Richie wanted to shut her up by telling her that the only reason she still had a son was because of him, but he kept his mouth shut until finally promising to drop Eddie off so they could have supper together before they left.
He waited an hour, letting Eddie rest and chatting Stan and Bill. They planned on staying until the next day, wanting to visit Bill’s parents before heading back to Long Island. When Richie went to the bedroom, he found Eddie sitting on top of the bed, petting Penny carefully. The pup seemed like her normal self again, except for when Richie moved to sit on the edge and she began growling in earnest.
Richie ignored her, focusing solely on Eddie. “I promised your mom you’d have dinner with her.” He told him carefully. “I figured I’d drop you off and then come back here to pack. We’ll have tomorrow morning after grabbing breakfast with Bill and Stan.”
“I’m not hungry,” Eddie told him shortly.
“I know, but your mom will throw a fit if you don’t see her before we go. I promise I’ll grab everything. You won’t even have to do a room check tomorrow morning.”
Eddie rolled his head along his shoulders, looking wildly unimpressed with Richie’s promise. “Fine.” He decided, lifting up Penny and plopping her down onto the bed beside him. She stayed there, though bore her teeth out to Richie as if reminding him that she was willing to bite if needed.
Richie drove Eddie out of town and into the suburbs where his childhood hold resided. He couldn’t help but think back to when they were kids, living only three blocks away from each other. They used to ride their bikes so freely back then, not caring how late it got or how fast they were going.
Richie spoke along the way, all while Eddie remained perfectly silent, just staring out the window. When they pulled up, Eddie looked back at him. “I’ll pick you up in two hours, okay?” He swore, leaning forward to kiss Eddie gently. “Try to have fun, all right? And don’t let the stupid shit she says get to you. I love you.”
Eddie moved to get out of the car without a word, but Richie stopped him. “Forgetting something?”
They had made it their thing, never leaving one another without saying how they felt. Even if they were angry or if they’d only be gone for an hour. It came from the constant need of being reminded that even when things were going badly, they always had one good thing going for themselves and that was each other.
Eddie closed his eyes, his eyes squinting as he thought long and hard about what he was supposed to say. Finally, his eyes opened, the brown and red mixing together in such a strange way. “I love you too.” He replied somberly, turning to get out of the car.
Richie watched as his mother met him at the door. He waved to Sonia, but only got a glare in response. He was used to that shit. Nothing new. He just hoping at Sonia didn’t question Eddie’s odd behavior too much and let him leave without much of a fight.
It didn’t take him very long to pack up their suite. Eddie had unpacked their belongings and maybe he brought more than he needed, but worrying about travel-sized toothbrushes and mouth wash was the last time on Richie’s mind. He threw everything into the toiletries bag and decided he’d worry about the lack of organization when they got back to New York.
He thought about calling Mike and telling him that they were heading out that morning but he didn’t want to deal with his overt weirdness towards the situation. Richie didn’t fucking understand his reluctance. He had shown the burial ground when Penny passed, what difference did it make who or what was buried there?
Richie couldn’t allow himself to worry about any of that. He stopped by the pharmacy to pick up extra bandages and scar cream they’d need once they arrived home. He didn’t know how long the stitches in his cheek would have to stay but he wanted to make sure that there was mark remaining as an endless reminder of what happened.
Richie made a mental note to make these last moments last because they would never be coming back to Derry if it was the last thing he did. He sent Eddie a text or two, wanting to keep him updated on everything.
He didn’t get a response though he didn’t worry about it much. Eddie was still adjusting after everything. A smartphone really wasn’t the most important thing to focus on right now.
It was just over two hours later that Richie returned to the Kaspbrak household. Dozens of memories fluttered into Richie’s mind as he approached the small ranch home. All the times he used to sneak into Eddie’s bedroom when they were kids and later teenagers. How they used to lay in his best, making out or going further.
They lost their virginities in Richie’s room because his house was more vacant than Eddie’s. They changed the sheets, buying brand new ones that didn’t smell like cologne and sweat. It wasn’t romantic and wasn’t perfect but Richie wouldn’t trade it for the world.
He knocked carefully, getting no response. It was open, something he was surprised by as Sonia made it very clear she didn’t trust a single person in this town and would keep the door locked constantly, even if she and Eddie were both homes.
When he opened the door, he called out to Eddie. He entered carefully, looking into the kitchen where Eddie was standing alone. He was filing his nails, a look of annoyance spread across his face.
“Dirt, and grime, and whatever else I had to dig through to get out of that hole you put me in.” He grumbled, moving to extend his hand to Richie to show him. “Disgusting.”
Richie took his hand without hesitation. He brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “I promise when we get to New York, I’ll take you to get a manicure.” He swore gently. “We’ll both go. Make a spa day out of that.”
“Always taking care of me,” Eddie muttered, his head docking slowly as he watched him.
“It’s my job. I’m always going to take care of you.” Richie told him. “Where’s your mom?”
Eddie pointed with the nail file into the sitting room. The tv could be heard from where they were in the kitchen.
“We better get going,” Richie mentioned, shoving his hands into his pockets. Eddie made no movement, showed no exchange in his bland, almost bored expression. “Do you want to say goodbye?” He added.
Eddie pushed off the counter and moved to walk out of the kitchen and into the sitting room where his mother was sitting in her usual chair. He bent down, kissing the top of her head. “Goodbye, mommy.” He whispered softly.
“Is she sleeping?” It wouldn’t have been the first time Sonia had fallen asleep in her favorite armchair while watching tv. Richie moved deeper into the room, preparing to wish his future mother in law a quiet goodbye but those words never hit his tongue.
Sonia Kaspbrak was sitting in her favorite chair, head back and jaw slack. It would appear that she had only been sleeping if only for the fact that her eye sockets were complete hollowed out, and dry blood was staining her cheeks. Her head wasn’t crushed completely, though it seemed her skull had taken a beating.
Richie had seen horror movies were people put the heads of their enemies into a vice was crushed them onwards, and it seemed as if a similar tool had been used on her. Except there was no tool insight. No weapon in sight, actually. Except for Eddie.
“What...what did you do?” Richie asked, stumbling back, falling over the coffee table and hitting the floor as the horrific sight remained just feet from him.
“She wouldn’t stop nagging,” Eddie told him easily. “She kept going on and on about every little thing. About me. About you. She said the most horrible things about you, Richie.”
“That...that isn’t anything new, Eddie. You...she’s dead. You killed her.”
“She just wouldn’t stop, even when I tried to get her to.” Eddie circles the chair, his bloodshot eyes focusing on his mother’s corpse. “I told her things, hoping she’d be quiet. I told her how happy we were without her. How much I liked it when you bend me over my work desk at home. I told her about how we fucked on her kitchen table mere minutes before having Thanksgiving dinner all those years ago. About the time you rode me on her bed on Sunday morning after a sleepover when she was at church”
“Christ, Eddie.” Richie shivered at the memory, tearing his gaze from the horrific scene to look to his fiancé. “Were you trying to give her a heart attack?”
“I told her about her husband and how he was glad to be dying,” Eddie mentioned suddenly. “He found joy in his suffering because of meant getting away from her. His only regret was leaving his son behind because he knew she would destroy him.”
Eddie turned away from his mother and looked to Richie with a sense of determination. “She made me weak, Richie. She wanted to keep me weak, just like him. Even now. Even after all this time she wanted to keep me away from you. She wanted to hurt us, Richie.”
“That doesn’t mean...Eddie I know she hasn’t always been the most acceptable but this....”
“I put her out of her misery.” Eddie declared.
Richie could imagine the poor woman, putting up with all the terrible things her son was saying. A son that had never said or done anything bad in his entire life. He could see Sonia sitting in her favorite chair, probably crying over whatever Eddie had said to her as her boy crept up behind her and crushed her head with his bare hands. Pushing in her eyeballs with his thumbs like he was popping off loose buttons on an old jacket.
“Please don’t be mad, Richie,” Eddie begged softly, moving to stand closer to the taller man now. His eyes, though dark and twisted, appeared to gentle as his overall expression contorted into what Richie could only make out to be a sense of regret. “I just want us to be together. With no one standing in our way.”
In retrospect, Richie knew this wasn’t good. Eddie had always been squeamish around blood and violence. Even when they used to read those Cult Classic comic books and sneak into horror movies, he always flipped the page or turned his head at the sign of blood or guts. It was hard to believe that angelic Eddie Kaspbrak, the man with the fiery tongue but the weak stomach was capable of causing such harm.
“I’ll take care of this,” Richie promised. He found a sheet from the hall closet and draped it over Sonia out of respect and drove Eddie back to the townhouse. He instructed him to stay in the bedroom before calling Stan and Bill to come over.
He explained the situation carefully, leaving out any parts that were strictest need-to-know. All that mattered was that Eddie’s mom was dead and he wasn’t handling it well.
“G-god. First B-Bowers and now this.” Bill mentioned. Eddie appeared in the doorway then and the taller male canine forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie for an embrace.
Richie watched as Eddie just stood there. He didn’t push Bill away but he didn’t move to embrace him either.
“I’m so s-sorry Eddie,” Bill muttered.
“It’s all right, Billy,” Eddie replied.
“Just remember, it gets easier to handle,” Bill promised. “I know how you feel.”
“You do know, don’t you?” Eddie bused. In an odd turn of events, Eddie pulled Bill closer to him, fighting him tightly to his chest. He pressed his lips to Bill’s heat and whispered to him. Richie couldn’t make it out but it was clear that whatever it was, Bill didn’t want to hear it.
He pushed away from Eddie, the color in his face draining significantly.
“Bill. I need your help dealing with her.”
“I can stay with Eddie,” Stan offered quickly. “I’ve never been good with...that sort of thing.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
It was a known fact that despite being raised in a religious household that looked at death as almost a welcome home package to those sweet pearly cages, Stan never liked the idea of it. Richie thought back to their childhood where the young man was too worried to even get a pet because he feared to have to bury it outback.
“Eds, why don’t you go lay down for a bit?” Richie offered. “We’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“I’m not tired,”
“You don’t know that until your body hits the mattress. Come on, do this for me, huh?”
Eddie rolled his eyes but did as Richie requested, going off to the bedroom with Penny in tow. The pup followed along, pausing only to quickly piss against one of the packed up suitcases.
Richie grabbed his keys, turning to Stan. “Whatever you do, don’t let him leave the apartment.”
“Why?”
“Too much has happened to him in the past few days. I want him to stay and relax before anything else could possibly happen in this town. Come on, Bill.”
Richie led the other male out, hurrying down to the car as hopping inside. Bill was uncharacteristically quiet, throwing Richie off as they drove into the neighborhoods.
“Is he always like that when he’s upset?” Bill questioned.
“He has never been upset like this before,” Richie replied. “It’s just stress, you know? Whatever he said or did, he didn’t mean it.”
“He mentioned G-Georgie,” Bill confessed somberly. “He said he knew I didn’t mean for any of it to happen and that I j-just didn’t want top-p-play with him. He said we all c-couldn’t be great b-big b-b-brothers.”
Bill didn’t talk much about his brothers dead. The young boy has been hit by a car on a rainy day while chasing a paper boat when they were just kids. Normally Bill would have been with him, as they were practically inseparable, but on this particular day, Bill stayed home.
He felt guilty for it, as was expected for such a terrible thing, but he hadn’t mentioned it in years. He also never mentioned the reason why he wasn’t with Georgie that morning. When it happened, Richie and the others had expected him to be ill or something as the weather was crummy out that day, but now it seemed truths were being revealed.
Richie faltered when it came to replying. What was he to say? Eddie would never normally be so cruel, so careless, but Eddie wasn’t his normal self anymore. “People grieve differently, Bill. Don’t take it personally.” He suggested.
Bill was quiet for the rest of the drive. Richie tried to think about what they were going to do once they arrived. Not like they could just call the police and say she died in her sleep. He tried to think if they would do DNA testing in such a small, shitty town. Maybe if he blamed it on Bowers, the police would just sweep it under the rug the same way they did with Eddie’s death.
When they arrived at the house, Richie leads Bill inside. Sonia was still in her chair, the sheet hanging over her, shielding her from any light or wondering eyes.
For the tiniest moment, Richie thought about bringing Sonia up to the burial ground. If Penny and Eddie came back, then surely she would do. He chose against this, deciding it wouldn’t be what Eddie would want. After all, he did this for a reason. He didn’t want his mother prying into their lives anymore. Bringing her back would only cause more trouble.
So instead he decided that calling the police and saying that they found her like this was the only option. He knew it was a terrible option. No one has come looking for him after he took Eddie’s body from the hospital, but if they did he’d chalk it up as a misunderstanding and mistake. After all, Eddie was still alive. Back at the townhouse, alive and somewhat well.
Bill approached the chair cautiously, sighing deeply. “Is it bad that I thought she’d go sooner?” He mentioned quietly. “She wasn’t exactly healthy. Even with all the pills, she pumped into Eddie, she never took care of herself properly.”
“Those were all sugar pills.” Richie reminded him. “Health was the last time on her mind. She just didn’t want him to leave the house.”
“Well. Look what happened to him when he did.” Bill stated, giving Richie a pointed look.
Richie raised his eyebrows because really, Bill didn’t know the half of it. He went into the kitchen, deciding to use the old house phone on the wall to call the cops. He had just begun dialing, waiting for the dispatcher to pick up when in the corner the eye he saw Bill lift the sheet.
“Bill, no!”
“What the fuck!?” Bill stumbled back, throwing himself against the far wall as Sonia’s mutilated head was revealed.
Richie hung up the phone, hurrying over to cover her once again.
“W-what hh-happened?” Bill stuttered out.
“She died, Bill. What does it look like?”
“T-that is n-n-not just d-dead, Richie! It l-looks like her s-s-skull caved in!” Bill cried, gesturing to Sonia’s corpse across the way. “D-did Eddie fi-find her like this?”
Richie didn’t reply. He looked over his shoulder at Bill, having no clue what to say or do. Could he tell his best friend what had happened over the past few days? Would Bill even believe him? Richie wouldn’t have believed Mike if it hadn’t been out of desperation.
It seemed the silence was enough for Bill to translate and he pushed himself further down the wall, going to stand closer to the door. “No.” He breathed out slowly. “Eddie . . . Eddie wouldn’t h-h-hurt a f-f-fly.”
“I’m going to call the cops and take care of this,” Richie assured him.
Bill’s phone began ringing. He finished it from his pocket, watching the name appear on the screen. “It’s S-Stan.”
“Don’t say a word about this!” Richie ordered as Bill answered.
“Stan. Hey.” Bill spoke slowly. “Y-yeah, one-s-s-second.” He pulled the phone from his ear, tapping on the screen until it was on speaker.
“He’s acting weird, guys,” Stan mentioned carefully. “He’s been trying to leave for the past five minutes. And the dog is barking and growling at me. I’ve never seen Penny like this.”
“She isn’t adjusting to Maine very well,” Richie explained.
“Richie . . . is everything okay with him?” Stan asked carefully. “He seems off. He started talking about things from when we were kids. This isn’t like him.”
“Just tell him to go back into the bedroom,” Richie instructed.
There was a rustling for a moment and a new voice got onto the phone. “I’m waiting for you, Richie,” Eddie spoke slowly. “You’re taking too long.”
“I’m going to take care of this and then I’ll be back. And then we’ll go, okay? We won’t even spend the night here.”
“Just h-hang out with S-Stan, Eddie. We’ll be f-f-finished soon.”
Eddie laughed then, low and unlike his normal chuckle. “Oh, we’re going to have fun. Won’t we Stan? Just like you and the old Rabbi used to have fun in his office at the Temple. Don’t you remember, Stanley?”
“How do you know about that?” Stan asked in the background, his voice shallow and weak.
“I’ll be waiting, Richie,” Eddie promised, ending the call then.
Bill stared at Richie with wide eyes. “S-Stan nev-never mentioned that to a-a-anyone but me.” He confessed. “W-what the f-f-fuck is going on, Richie?”
“We have to leave. We have to get back to the townhouse.” Richie told him quickly.
“W-what about his m-mom?”
“She’s dead! What more can we do? We’ll call the cops later. Right now we have to get back to Eddie and Stan.”
Bill followed, not having much of a choice. They drove at warped speed, cutting through the area and back into the town. Traffic wasn’t ideal, but Richie knew the area well enough to take all the backroads and made it back to the townhouse.
They rushed up, heading into his suite only to find it empty. Richie called out to both of them but got no response. “Our car is gone,” Bill mentioned quietly. “I didn’t see it out front.”
“Maybe they went for a drive?” Richie suggested loosely.
Bill left the suit, going across the way to his own room, finding it empty as well. Richie inspected his suite, trying to fight any sign of where they could have gone. He whistled for Penny, but there was no response. Did Eddie take her with him when they left? He followed his instinct and went into the bedroom, finding it wasn’t as empty as he thought it would be.
Eddie was gone and so was Penny, but Stan was there. Pressed up against the headboard with his jaw detached and eyes wide with shock. He was gone, that much was for sure.
The sight alone was enough for Richie to lose the contents of his stomach, and he turned to puke in the nearby faux plant.
When Bill came back into the suite, he was saying that Stan’s keys were gone, but his wallet was still sitting on the dresser. Richie was wiping his mouth off with his hand, trying to keep composure as he shut the door.
Bill caught this, however, and moved closer. “Wh-what is it?”
“We have to go.” He told him. “We have to go find Eddie.”
“Fi-find Eddie? What about Stan? Do you think they l-left together? Where is P-Penny?” He moved closer, only to be cut off by Richie standing in front of the door. “What-what is in there?”
“Don’t worry about it. Big Bill, we have to go.”
“R-Richie, what is in there?”
Despite being shorter than him, Bill was stronger than Richie. He always had been. So it was easy for him to push past the other man and make it into the bedroom.
Richie understood first hand the pain and anguish that came from seeing the person you love dead without any chance of resuscitation. He had been trying to protect Bill from that sight, but he failed once again. Richie knew all about the five stages of grief and he watched with a heavy heart as Bill went through the first four of them.
He grumbled to the floor of the bedroom, shaking with disbelief and horror. There was no running to the hospital, there was no calling an ambulance. Just like Eddie’s, Stan’s eyes were wide open and glassy. There was nothing behind them, as the light and his life was gone.
Bill crawled onto the bed to wrap his arms around Stan just as Richie had cradled Eddie on the shore of the river. It was a hopeless embrace but one that was needed by those involved in it.
“W-why?” Was all Bill would mutter out.
Why indeed. Why did they have to come here? Why did Richie bring Eddie back? Why was Eddie causing so much mayhem?
In the depths of his mind, Richie could understand why he ended his mother's life. She was cruel and put him through so much as a child and teen. Stan has been nothing but a good and honest friend to Eddie and he ended his life like it was nothing.
Ripped apart his jaw like it was velcroed to his head. Left him slack on the bed as if to offer a small amount of comfort just as he did by leaving his mother in her chair. Eddie was going back and forth between doing the most horrible of acts while also leaving his victims in a state of rest. None of it was adding up for Richie and he knew it was just going to get worse.
“I did this.” He announced, pulling a weeping Bill out of his hysteria. “I caused this. And I am going to fix this. I have to find Mike.”
Leaving his blubbering mess of a friend behind, Richie ran out of the townhouse and across town to Mike’s home. He still lives on the farm despite it no longer being in business. Gone were the sheep and cattle they would breed and use for meat. Now it was just dead grass for miles and miles.
Mike knew why he was here, as he had been expecting this for a while.
“I tried to warn you. To tell you that this wouldn’t end well.”
“There has to be a way to stop this. To control these urges.”
“There is no control, Rich. Look I tried to tell you before, about the guy my grandfather knew. Look his son died overseas and when they shipped his body back he buried him up on the hill. He came back but he wasn’t the same. He was messed up in the end. He would terrify the people in town and get enjoyment out of it. He’d talk about things he had no way of knowing. It was like he wasn’t himself anymore. His body but not his soul.”
Richie thought about all the horrible things Eddie had said that were so unlike himself. The enjoyment he got out of ending his mother’s life. How much fun he planned on having with Stanley. It wasn’t Eddie that had returned. Richie was sure of that now.
“What has he done, Richie?” Mike asked carefully. Richie turned his head, offering nothing more than a mournful look. “Who has he hurt?”
“His mother.” He revealed, swallowing hard as he continued. “Stan too.”
“How bad is it?”
Richie knew there was no way around it. No way to beat around the bush. There was no practical way to make it sound any less terrible than it actually was. “They’re gone.”
Mike swallowed hard, turning away from Richie as emotions ran through him. Richie might have been the cause of Eddie returning but Mike was the one who told him where the place was in the first place. Mike was the one that called Stan and asked him to come back to Derry to help Richie cope with his loss.
They were both at fault, that much was obvious.
One more than the other, however.
“You have to end this, Rich.”
“There has to be a way to stop him. To bring Eddie back to normal.”
“There is no Eddie anymore, Rich.” Mike reasoned. “He’s done. He died that night at the bridge. Whoever you brought back may look and sound like him, but it’s not.” He moved to the corner of the room, rustling around in a nearby draw. “That guy I told you about? He killed people too. And his father knew he had to be stopped. So he killed him. Set him and the house on fire and then shot himself to go down with the ship.”
When Mike turned, he had a gun in his hand. Nothing fancy or even very practical. It was an old bolt gun that his grandfather had used on the animals prior to slaughter. He held it out for Richie to take. “Sometimes . . . dead is better. Now it’s your turn to do the same.”
Richie swallowed hard, his eyes lifting from the gun to lock eyes with Mike. “What if I can’t do that?”
“Someone will. He has to be stopped, Rich. You brought him back, so you have to send him away.”
Richie knew he was right. It only made sense that he’d be the one to stop Eddie. He probably was the only one that could stop him. He had to put an end to this one way or another.
Reaching out, he tentatively took the bolt gun from his friend's hand. “I don’t know where he is.” He admitted. “I left him with Stan and he just took off in Bill’s car.”
“He could be hunting,” Mike suggested. “Or he could be trying to lore you out.”
“Why me?”
“That army guy didn’t want to kill his father. He wanted them to be together forever. Eddie could want the same. He’d go somewhere special, somewhere he knew you’d go.”
Richie rattled off the choices in his mind. There were so many that would fit them. Their special places. He left with a nod, heading out and off to the places he thought of. First was the Aladdin where they had their first and last date. All the movies they had seen there, all the memories they made. Richie found it closed and no Eddie insight.
The second was the pharmacy where they used to hang around while Eddie got his faux medication. It was down the alleyway where Eddie first kissed him when they were just fifteen. It was spontaneous and exciting and neither looked back after that. He wasn’t there either so Richie carries on.
The final place was along the bridge but there was no sign of him. Richie got out of his car and walked the length of it, looking over the spot where he had proposed. Where Bowers tosses him overboard. He ran his fingers over the faded carvings of their initials and dug his keys from his pocket to add new depth to the E, the + and the R. He looked over the carving, realizing it would be the last time he ever saw it.
He stood, remembering there was still one more place to go.
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calamity-bean · 4 years
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Reddie Fic Recs: Canon Compliant and Post-Canon
Comprising stories set between the films; missing scenes that don’t substantially affect the events/outcome of canon; and stories set after the final showdown with Pennywise (meaning that Eddie does die, though he doesn’t necessarily stay that way). Most are fix-its, because I’m physically incapable of accepting an unhappy ending. For stories in which Eddie never dies in the first place, check out my Canon Divergent recs.
This is a mixture of complete works and WIPs, of various ratings and lengths, mostly recent (like, posted since the release of Chapter 2). If part of a series, I’ve listed only the first work. More possibly to be added at any time I feel like it!
the bravest person i knew. by beepbeep (aceface)
If you think that Richie Tozier would just be like 'well, Eddie's dead and buried, guess I better move on with my life' then you're wrong. Eddie didn't deserve to die, and Richie's going to do whatever it takes to get him back. Stage one is getting the body.
Eddie owes him so much for this. Richie’s going to be collecting on this debt for the entire rest of their lives, which better be a really long time. If Eddie gets knocked down crossing the road after Richie’s done an entire fucking blood ritual, Richie’s going to be pissed.
Broken Record by spunknbite  
The house on Neibolt was standing again.
Bill was talking about going in alone. How?
“So does somebody want to say something?” Eddie asked, still breathing, still fucking breathing and alive and not dripping his Goddamn organs out of his chest.
“Richie said it the b-best when we were here last,” Bill said.
“Holy fuck.”
keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theappleppielifestyle
Eddie makes another noise, not quite a scream but not anything else either.
Stan drops his hand.
“Hey, Eddie,” he says. “Welcome to the peanut gallery. I wrote you a letter, but I guess you won’t get it now.”
(Or, Eddie and Stan stick around as ghosts after they die. Unable to make themselves known to the other Losers, they have to find other ways to communicate.)
No Dice by bazsucks
“You’re pretty.”
“What?”
“You always were.
Alternatively: There is a serious lacking of two types of fanfiction in this fanbase: 1. Fanfictions taking place in the Town Inn, and 2. Eddie with James Ransone's tattoos. Thank you.
not enough to feel the lack by restlesslikeme
More than 10 years after leaving Derry as fast as his legs could carry him, Richie is back in town promoting his rising career in comedy. A death in the family has brought an old friend back, too
Or: Richie and Eddie get a few weeks of the sweet summer romance they (and we) deserved.
not exactly where i need to be (and yet it seems so close) by varnes
Richie runs all the way to Eddie’s. He has a bike but he can’t remember, just now, where he put it. Everything feels real, feels — the gravel hurt his shoeless feet, his lungs burn when he gets tired, there’s a cut on his chin that aches a little. It feels real but things always felt real, with It.
You can’t trust how you feel or what you see. That’s the core of the terror of It. That everything is real and nothing is real and all of it can kill you.
Richie clambers up the drainage pipe and shoves open Eddie’s window. He’s afraid to look. He’s afraid of what It has prepared for him.
But it’s nothing. It��s just Eddie, small, young, cast still on his arm. He’s curled up on his side and is using the cast as the world’s worst pillow.
“Holy shitballs what the fucking shit,” breathes Richie, lunging forward to fling himself on top of Eddie’s sleeping form. “Don’t scream, don’t scream, hey — Eddie! Eddie, shut the fuck up, you’re going to wake your mom, it’s me! It’s me.”
OR: Richard Tozier goes to sleep on a plane in 2016, and wakes up in 1989.
take the long way home by vipertooths
He calls again and again there's nothing. No movement he can see, even as he sweeps the light from his headlamp across the cistern. It seems, suddenly, like a gaping maw, the mouth of a hungry beast waiting to swallow them whole, and maybe it's most of the way there already.
"Guys, c'mon, please. Please c'mon, I don't wanna walk outta here alone."
Tales Of A Washed Up Nothing by TheBlackLagoon              
In which Richie watches too much Cheers, Sees a therapist, Gets a pet turtle and Saves Edward Kaspbrak’s life by playing Street Fighter.
Part 1 of Are You There Maturin? It's Me, Richie
who is to say there will not be such endings by theapplepielifestyle
After returning to Derry for the first time in 27 years, getting his memories back, fighting a demon clown, losing a best friend and the unrequited love of his life - life has returned to normal for Richie Tozier.
He’s kind of pissed about it.
(Or, after months of an ongoing nervous breakdown, Richie gets a chance to go back and fix things.)
you’d almost believe it by joldiego
“Marsh! What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His voice is still hoarse with sleep and emerges as more of a croak than anything else.
Bev doesn’t entertain him one bit. She simply holds out her phone and asks tiredly, “Richie, what on earth did you do?”
Richie peers at the screen. It’s opened to a Buzzfeed article with a title that reads, “Comedian Richie Tozier Posted A Horror Story On His Youtube Channel In The Middle Of The Night, And We’re As Confused As You Are."
“Something really stupid, Bev. I did something really fucking stupid.”
Richie is terrified that he'll forget what happened in Derry again, that he'll forget Eddie again. So, he takes things into his own hands... and goes viral in the process.
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agentkgent · 4 years
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Fic: If You Want It Back
Chapter One: You’d Probably Think (Tumblr | AO3)
Chapter Two: If You Knew | Read on AO3
(This is a short chapter, mostly establishing that our boys are on opposite sides of the country as adults; They do not remember each other and they are not happy; this isn’t necessarily a HAPPY chapter, but it’s setting up for some cavity-inducing sweet fluff heading your way!)
- - -
Eddie | 39
“Eddie, there just won’t be enough room for all of this!” Myra insists, gesturing to the boxes of clothes.
Eddie gives a half-hearted chuckle and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I need space for my stuff, too.”
Myra quirks her eyebrow at him and continues to argue. “This is my closet. That was the deal.”
“Honey, it’s attached to our bedroom.”
Myra turns icy at his response. “It is my closet. We’re in this tiny apartment that you wanted, that you said was so important, and I said I need my own walk-in closet. That was the deal.”
“Myra, this apartment is hardly tiny. And I have to be able to put my clothes away.”
“There’s a dresser over there,” she points.
He looks for a moment. “How can I fit all my things in three drawers?”
Myra shrugs carelessly. “And I didn’t get my craft room. Figure it out, Eddie.”
He sighs in defeat. “Yes, dear, I know.”
Eddie and Myra Kaspbrak are finally moving into their first home in New York - an apartment just south of Midtown Manhattan. It’d been a long time coming, a lot of long, frustrating conversations on home amenities and proximity to the airport. He had to do a lot of traveling, after all.
Eddie knows this isn’t what Myra wanted. What she wanted was a two-story, four-bedroom, two-bath modern home and a fucking jacuzzi in the backyard. If he had a nickel for every time he had to say, “I just don’t make enough money, sweetheart,” or “That’s too far a drive from JFK,” and “We may need to move, I can’t get locked into a mortgage just yet.” He mine as well have been negotiating with his mother. (God rest her soul.) Myra only understood that Eddie made “good money” with the insurance company. To her, that meant they made “plenty of money” to afford whatever she wanted.
He pulls off his jacket, and pulls up his long sleeves to get to work on his boxes of clothes.
“Eddie-bear, you know you don’t need all those clothes. Just get rid of some things,” Myra says from inside her closet. He refuses to turn around and watch her carefully placing her designer handbags and shoes. “Just keep work clothes out and leave the rest in storage.”
“Sure and I’ll just sleep in my work clothes, too.” He says quietly to himself. He carefully cuts open the first box and looks over the stack of nicely folded shirts in air-tight bags, organized by color. He pushes the box to the side and moves onto the next box, that reads “Eddie: Miscellaneous” on the side in marker. This one might actually contain stuff he can get rid of to appease his wife.
His wife.
Eddie loves Myra. Of course he loves his wife. Eddie is a good man with a good job and goals and loves his wife very much. Myra was the perfect woman for him, exactly his type. He enjoys kissing her. He enjoys sleeping with her. She takes care of him. She loves him. Not a lot of people love Eddie, but Myra does. She’s his better half. She keeps him in check. Keeps him focused on what’s important. ...Which, would be her, he guesses?
The key to a healthy, successful marriage is repeating these things over and over again until they’re real, right?
He hears his lovely, selfless, caring wife strut out of the room towards their new living room.
He cuts open the “miscellaneous” box, full of clothes that are not in air-tight baggies nor are they organized by color. He can already smell age on them, possibly dust and mildew from sitting in his mother’s storage. He pulls a few items out, looking at them and then back inside the box. There’s not too many things in here, but it’s obvious they are not from his adulthood. He then examines the few clothing items he’s pulled out - an old fannypack (From when he was a kid, always carrying his meds around. That can go;) an old pair of pajamas (Myra will yell at him for wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas like a teenager. These can go;) a couple old polo shirts (From college, probably. And probably too small by now. They can go;), a zip-up hoodie…
The hoodie looks like it might fit. (But he never wears ash-gray, it’s too cheap-looking for his tastes.) It is a jacket hoodie, might be nice for layering in cold New York winters. He looks over its condition. It’s very worn, almost like it’s supposed to look vintage. One of the wrist cuffs is ripped open at the seam, like someone’s been shoving their fingers through it, something only an annoying kid would do. There’s also a rusty brown stain on the opposite cuff, which is undoubtedly blood. Ew. He looks at the zipper of the jacket, which is missing a metal tab, and extra difficult to zip. Okay, well that’s great. There is no size or manufacturer tag, it’s apparently been ripped out. The strings coming out of the hoodie near the neck are discolored and dingy, and ...are those bite marks at the plastic ends? Disgusting.
There are dark, hard spots around the edges of the pockets on the front. He rubs his thumb across them gently, and knows. They’re cigarette burns. Wow. Well, this definitely wasn’t his, he’s never smoked a day in his life. He would really like to not die of cancer, thank you very much.
His thoughts are abruptly cut short when Eddie subconsciously catches a whiff of the jacket. Undoubtedly, he smells cigarette smoke. Maybe even marijuana, which he’s never touched. But there’s more than that. He pulls the jacket closer to his face, closes his eyes, and smells.
Body spray. Not the nice cologne Eddie wears, but some kind of cheap, douchey-smelling body spray meant to impress girls. Wood. Burning wood, like a bonfire. And… sweat. Someone else’s sweat. Which really should be gross, and it sort of is first, but he keeps breathing it in. It’s an unidentifiable, masculine smell from someone this hoodie belonged to.
There’s something warm in his chest. His heart is pounding as he inhales the jacket’s bouquet over and over again.
“It’s one of my faves.” He can hear a voice say quietly, from somewhere dark in his brain.
His hands are shaking as he sets it down and wipes his hand across his mouth and nose, fidgeting. His mind is racing to identify where this jacket came from, but he can’t complete his mental search. There’s like, nothingness where he expects to find answers. He can feel sweat forming on his forehead and his throat getting tighter. What is happening? Is this an asthma attack? He hasn’t had an attack in years. He puts his hand on his chest and forces himself to breath at a steadier pace, in and out, in and out.
“Eddie-bear, you ok?” He’s startled for a moment. How long was Myra standing there?
He clears his throat. “Yes, dear, I’m okay.” Gotta make up something to throw her off, he doesn’t want her thinking he has ever smoked. She’d never let him live it down. “Just trying to figure out if this is clean or not.”
Myra rips the hoodie from his hand, Eddie grasps at it pathetically. “Why? What does it smell like?” She holds the hood of it up to her nose, then scrunches her face at it. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Just smells dirty.” She tosses it back to him. “Also, it’s torn up. Why do you still have it?” She steps across the wood floors back towards her precious closet. “Just throw it out.”
He knows already this isn’t even his jacket. He just… doesn’t understand why he has it. What he does know is getting rid of it is not an option. He needs this. He’s… supposed to return it, he thinks.
He decides that there is room for it. So he folds it tightly and sticks it in the back of his bottom dresser drawer, where he hopes Myra won’t ever notice it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Richie | 39
Richie wants to fall asleep. Everything will be easier if he just falls asleep. Everything will be over sooner if he just falls asleep.
He looks at his smart watch. It’s 2:40 a.m.
He’s lying on his bed in his LA home, naked except for his boxers, next to a stranger he has just had sex with. The sex was fine, pretty standard. She wasn’t interested in foreplay, which he doesn’t mind because he’s not good at pretending to enjoy it. He’s not really interested in her. She’s not interested in him either, he thinks. She’s probably just interested in writing about it on one of those bullshit ‘celebrity sex review’ blogs. A part of him kind of hopes, actually.
He’s sure of one thing: he wants her out of his home so he can continue to be miserable in peace.
The bed is shifting and he can feel a hand on his chest.
“You okay?” The stranger asks in an innocent voice that fools no one. She’s pretty enough. Rich, dark hair and brown eyes. Tanned skin and a nice body. He doesn’t remember her name or if they even actually talked at the bar. She knew who he was, and that was enough.
“Fuckin great.” He fakes a smile at her. She starts to snuggle against him, which is not the response he wanted. “Hey, listen, this was awesome, but I’m flying out early tomorrow.” He had really hoped to just doze off and deal with this in the morning. But his favorite lie usually worked to get these types of strangers out of his home, out of his life.
“Oh. Where are you going?” She rests her chin on his chest.
“...Chicago.”
“I love Chicago!” She giggles.
Another fake smile, but more difficult to pull of. “Yep.” And he gently moves from under her, leaning away.
“You should totally go to the giant silver bean and take selfies by it-”
“Listen, I gotta get up super early, so I’m gonna call you an Uber.” He lifts himself from the bed and walks across the bedroom to pull on a t-shirt.
“Oh? Okay.” She responds too happily. It’s irritating that she isn’t taking a hint. She gets up and begins pulling on her shorts and heels.
Richie heads to his nightstand, where he picks up his phone and requests an Uber to his Hollywood home. “‘Jerry’ will be here in six minutes in his ‘2015 Toyota Camry.’ He’ll take you wherever you want.” He’s not very good at hiding the fact that he doesn’t really care if she gets home, just as long as she goes.
He hears her ridiculously tall Stilettos click behind him and feels hands on his shoulders. “My number’s in your phone. Call me when you get back?”
Goddamn it, just go already. “Sure.”
Her arms drop to her sides and she makes an annoyed noise. She just got the hint.
His sexual guest struts across the living room towards the entryway, holding her bag and jacket. Richie can’t help but examine her ass as she walks, even though there’s no longer any mystery to what lies beneath her shorts. He scans the room for anything missing (he’s been robbed by a hot woman once or twice) and sees a bright pink bra and lacy top still lying on the couch. He  sees that she is wearing his shirt, on her way out.
Nuh-uh, no, NOPE, they are not playing this game. “Uh, sweetheart.” He whistles. She stops and turns to him, and he responds by eyeing her up-and-down. “Can I have my shirt back?”
She tests him with a coy smile. “Well, maybe I’ll bring it back to you?”
“No, no no no no no no, you can wear your own clothes home. That’s my favorite shirt.” He extends an arm and is flexing his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.
She’s taken aback, but comes back towards him to take off the shirt. Slowly. Presenting her tits.
They’re not that impressive. And she’s being annoying, so he’s done pretending to be charming.
He smirks, snatches the shirt from her hand, and then walks back towards his bedroom.
He can hear her shuffle to pick up her remaining clothes, her heels clicking across the floor. She scoffs. “So, that’s it?”
He doesn’t face her, he just raises a waving hand to gesture ‘goodbye.’ “That’s it!”
“Wow. Fuck you.” She spouts.
Richie tosses his shirt on his kitchen counter. Bless his open floor plan. “Yeah, thanks for that.”
She mockingly laughs and opens the front door. “You’re an asshole. And you’re not funny.”
“Okie dokes!” He says casually at her.
The Uber driver pulls up behind her in the driveway. “ASSHOLE!” She shrieks, and slams the door shut.
He slumps onto his stupidly-expensive couch and exhales in relief. “Yep. I sure am.”
He doesn’t know why he allows himself to get used by every horny fan he meets. (And “fan” is a generous term. None of them even give a shit about his comedy, they just know who he is and that he’s got a couple specials on Netflix.)
He should be grateful. He’s got everything he could ever want and need. He’s got a huge house, plenty of money, 156K followers on Instagram, more comedy special gigs on the way, may even go on tour with some big names. He’s got a shot at Saturday Night Live, his manager tells him. Not that Richie wants to move to New York. He doesn’t know anyone in New York.
Not that he knows anyone in LA, either. Just horny fans he meets in sleazy bars.
He should be grateful, and he knows that. But he’s just miserable. And alone.
He rubs his eyes under his glasses and lets them fall back onto his nose before he stands up to march himself to sleep. He grabs his shirt on the way back to his empty bedroom.
“Bitch thought she could take my favorite shirt.” And he flicks off the lightswitch.
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theaceace · 4 years
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Me? Writing more of the Stan and Richie roommates AU that would eventually become a fix-it for IT chapter 2? It’s more likely than you think!
“So how did you two meet?”
“Well, we were both part of the same hypnosis study group, and once you’ve watched a man believe he can carry an eighties power ballad non-stop for twenty minutes, you feel obligated to be his friend.”
  Richie knows a lot about Stan. He knows that he doesn’t have any allergies except mild hay-fever; that he loves birdwatching (and also birdwatching, which always gets Richie a cluck of the tongue and a smack to the arm); that he freaks out when Richie tries to do the dishes for them; and that he has an irrational fear of black holes. Riche knows all of these things, and doesn’t remember learning any of them.
Except the dishes thing. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that.
He doesn’t know where Stan grew up – doesn’t know which high school he went to, or the name of his first pet, or if he had any other friends.
This might have been more concerning, if Richie had known any of those things about himself.
Mostly, they try not to think about it too much. If sets off a series of sparks and stabbing pains behind Richie’s eyes whenever he really tries to remember anything more than vague impressions. He thinks his parents loved him – it feels distant but warm to think of them even in the abstract. He’s sure he’s known Stan for years – they came to New York together, there’s no way Stan would just up and move with someone he’d just met. Sometimes there’ll be a smell, or a voice, or a colour, and his mind flinches away from it so suddenly that Richie is sure there must be a memory there somewhere; but it’s never anything clear. Just notions, and guesses, and dreams.
So many fucking dreams.
It’s the reason Richie’s awake at three in the morning, hunched over the narrow and unsteady stove in the corner of the apartment they generously call the kitchen. He’d woken a sweaty mess with the echo of someone screaming in his ears and his hands clenched tight around his sheets like he’d grabbed for a weapon.
From experience, he knows there’s no getting back to sleep after one like that. So here he is, frying strips of beef for fajitas to last them the next two or three days.
It’s not that Richie likes cooking, because he doesn’t. At best, he’s ambivalent to the whole thing; at worst he sometimes stands in front of the fridge for an hour, staring at the ingredients and trying not to scream because he can’t, he doesn’t know why but he can’t. So no, he doesn’t like cooking.
But Stan doesn’t just hate cooking – he’s so fucking bad at it.
Richie doesn’t really understand. Stan is fastidious in everything he does; he follows recipes to the letter, unlike Richie who just throws things in a pot and prays. And yet, the only thing about Stan’s cooking that can be relied upon is that it’s borderline inedible. So, Richie cooks, and Stan refuses to let him wash the dishes, because he doesn’t do it right.
Up until he’d moved in with Stan, Richie reckons he didn’t know there was a wrong way to wash dishes. He doesn’t remember of course, so he can’t be sure, but that doesn’t seem like the sort of thing past-Richie would know.
People are usually surprised that Richie can cook well enough to keep them both alive and free of vitamin deficiencies. To be completely honest, Richie is surprised by it as well. He’s gradually getting the hang of laundry, and he can’t keep a consistent cleaning schedule, or tidy his room, like, at all – but he can do this. Of all the adulting skills he could have spontaneously developed, he thinks this is a pretty good one.
It’s always a bit of a shock, though, when people ask him why he cooks with so much fresh fish, or vegetables, or lean meat when they can barely afford to keep the lights on, and he finds himself rambling about malnutrition among young adults. The voice doesn’t sit right in his mouth – the intonation is all off, the machine-gun rattle of consonants around his mouth nothing at all like his own lazy drawl. There are statistics that he doesn’t remember when he tries to think of them later, and he doesn’t know how or when he learned any of it.
There’s a muffled thump from the next room – Richie leaps half a foot in the air and spins around with his heart pounding wildly, tongs held in front of him like a weapon. He slumps back and only just avoids burning himself on the hob when Stan appears in the doorway.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself – he rubs his forehead and turns back to the stove so he doesn’t have to see the way Stan’s mouth twists.
“Sorry, wrong Jew,” Stan says back, easy as breathing. It’s an old joke, and Richie doesn’t know how it started. “Couldn’t sleep again?”
Richie grunts; they’re both quiet for a moment. “You?” He asks finally, watching the meat sizzle.
There’s a soft rustle that Richie knows is the sound of Stan pushing his hands through his mop of dark curls. A floorboard creaks, before he throws himself down into one of the lopsided chairs at the table that serves as dinner table/writing desk/pillow when Richie is really tired.
“Couldn’t move again,” Stan whispers finally; his voice is muffled like he’d got his head in his hands.
The meat looks pretty well done by now, Richie thinks – he switches the heat off and sets the pan to the side before washing his hands carefully enough that even… even Stan couldn’t find fault with it. He shakes his head, the little skip in his thoughts already a long way away, and moves to crouch next to Stan.
He knows that Stan won’t react well to being grabbed, or to being forced to look at Richie. There aren’t many things he can do to help when it gets bad like this, so he hooks a hand around Stan’s calf like an anchor, and doesn’t consider why it feels familiar.
“I’m here,” Richie says. “Wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Stanny. Not going anywhere, won’t leave you alone, you’re here, I’m here…”
Richie is fantastic at talking about nothing at all. He can do it for hours, often long after people have stopped listening to him.
Stan always listens.
“Thanks, man,” he says finally, lifting his head from his hands. Richie grins at him and ruffles his hair, curling his fingers gently against Stan’s scalp and thumbing at one of the silvery scars along his temple. Stan always thanks him after Richie talks him back to the present; it’s sweet, but Richie doesn’t think he needs to. Stan’s done the same for him more times than either of them count.
They don’t know what it is about their childhoods that they’ve repressed so much shit this thoroughly, but Richie thinks that’s probably for the best.
Healthy? Absolutely not. But definitely for the best.
Stan shuffles over to the sink to start running water for the dishes as Richie moves back to the chopping board to start going Eddie Edward Scissorhands on the peppers. He’s got two papers due that he’s barely started, even with the help of Stan’s colour-coded study plan, but he doesn’t have the room in his mind to stress about it now. He starts whistling Bonnie Tyler and grins almost too hard to continue when Stan starts to sing along softly.
It’s not the worst night they’ve had.
  “Okay, but how did you two meet?”
“It was wild night of fiery passion, but alas, I was flying out the next morning, so I left him with nothing but a note and a kiss, and he chased me across the country to declare his undying love for me.”
  “Fuck’s sake, Rich,” Stan says heavily – but he doesn’t leave. He’s already scraped Richie’s hair back into an approximation of a ponytail so that he doesn’t have to hold it back as Richie vomits, but he doesn’t leave. The bathroom really isn’t big enough for them both to be on the floor like this, but he doesn’t leave. There’s a glass of water near Richie’s knee, and a packet of chewy mints tucked into his pocket, but he doesn’t leave.
Richie groans, and narrowly avoids pressing his cheek to the toilet seat. The room is spinning gently; he feels icy-cold and clammy from head to toe.
There’s music with such a heavy bassline that he can feel it through the floor. Richie isn’t entirely sure who’s house they’re at – he thinks it’s someone from one of Stan’s classes. He’ll have to apologise to Stan later for making such an idiot of himself, as well as ruining the night.
Stan casts a disgusted glance at the toilet, and stretches across Richie to pull the flush.
“Do you even chew your food?” He asks – there’s a joke to be made there, Richie’s pretty sure, but he can’t clear his head long enough to come up with it. He grunts something that might be the distant cousin of a reply.
This isn’t the drunkest Richie’s ever been, not even close. In the brief period of time he actually spent at college, he’d made all sorts of regrettable decisions and tried his hand at pretty much every vice available.  In the slightly longer period of time he’s spent since leaving college, he’s gone back to try every single one again, to see if the outcomes would be any different. He has a set of repeatable data points now. It’s basically science.
So no, Richie isn’t that drunk. He’s not high. He almost wishes he was, because that would be a better explanation than whatever’s going on with his brain.
Downstairs somewhere – or maybe long gone by now – there’s a beautiful boy that Richie caught glancing his way once, then quickly again. A boy that had shook his head as if in a daze; had apologised in a voice that suggested he didn’t mean a word of it. Richie had grinned, said it’s okay and happens all the time and I have one of those faces while he drank him in. Short enough to tuck comfortably under Richie’s arm when they talked, leaning in close to be heard over the music, a whisper of breath against a long throat. Tall enough that he didn’t have to rock up on his toes to press quick, filthy kisses to Richie’s laughing mouth.
The anxiety that normally presses thorns up his throat when he so much as stares at another man too long had seemed a long way away. Smothered; strangled by alcohol, loud music, and low lights.
Fleetingly, Richie had managed to wrestle enough of his brain back under control to pull away and start to ask for a name, before being distracted by insistent hands at his shirt, tugging him towards the door. It hadn’t occurred to him to try again; Richie’d stumbled along in his wake and tried not to fall flat on his face because he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the curve of his ass long enough to watch where he put his feet.
They’d finally found a corner dark enough, and been drawn back together in seconds.
He loved this – loved the lines of warmth left behind by curious hands, loved the sudden drop in his stomach as all of his blood redirected south. He felt dizzy with want, with being wanted. They barely parted long enough to breathe; Richie can taste rum and coke when he presses his tongue into his eager mouth. That mouth pulls away after long minutes of driving him mad to smear a trail across his scruffy jaw, up to his ear and then his throat.
Richie had gasped at the sting of teeth at his collarbone. Tipped his head back with a breathy laugh and curled his fingers into dark, sweat-damp hair. Pressed his palms against his cheeks to drag that beautiful face back up for another kiss; met pale eyes with a fleeting sense of wrong and –
Don’t fucking touch me!
- staggered back, one hand pressed to his mouth.
There’s a bit of a gap in his memories (ha! Another one!) between then and now. At some point he’d made it to the bathroom, and had already evacuated his stomach by the time Stan found him. Richie’s hands keep opening and clenching uselessly in the hem of his shirt, like he’s grabbing for something – or someone.
Stan doesn’t ask what happened, because Stan is objectively the best.
But Richie – Richie wants to tell him anyway.
“It was a -” and here he runs out of words. He vaguely gestures at his head. “Thing. There was a guy, and it was great, and then a thing.”
Huh. Maybe he is drunker than he thought.
“How informative,” Stan says, and it’s dry but Richie knows Stan well enough to know that he’s waiting on Richie to sort his jumbled thoughts. It’s not the dismissal it sounds like.
“A brain thing,” he says, and from Stan’s soft ah, he’s starting to get the picture.
Richie doesn’t remember coming out to Stan – or Stan coming out to him, for that matter – but he knows it must have happened at some point. Richie’d asked once, not long after they moved in together, if Stan thought they’d ever hooked up and forgotten. Stan had been startled into laughing so hard he had to brace himself on the kitchen counter so he didn’t fall over, which Richie had tried very hard not to be offended by. He understood, though. It’s never been like that, for them.
Also, Richie may or may not have a definite type; as much as he loves Stan, he doesn’t quite fit the bill.
“You remembered something?” Stan asks, and he’s careful with it, fingers drumming anxiously where he’s laid a hand on Richie’s knee. Stan always gets cagey when Richie asks about memories, which he thinks is kind of unfair – but then, Stan’s not as good at lying, or blustering as Richie is. He doesn’t have any defences except getting cagey.
“Or something,” Richie snorts. “Could’ve been a memory, or just that pesky self-loathing the street preachers are always shouting about.”
“Think it was important?”
Richie pauses, and tries – actually tries – to think about it. Whatever it was, though, has already been screwed up and jammed down to the very bottom of his memory-safe. Or whatever; his metaphors get even weirder when he’s been drinking.
“Dunno,” he says finally. “Probably was but I guess it doesn’t fucking matter now, shit!”
It isn’t always like this. There’s usually a layer of quiet fear that blankets him whenever he gets close enough to another guy to reach out, to touch, to hold, but it isn’t always like this.
Sometimes, though, the fear isn’t quiet. Sometimes it shrieks at him.
He thinks Stan gets it.
“It’s okay, Rich,” Stan says, and tugs him close for a brief hug, which must be the most horrifying thing because Richie is aware that he reeks of vomit and sour alcohol, and that he’s vaguely damp and sweaty. But Stan doesn’t complain, even when Richie presses a smacking kiss to his cheek. And Richie stands up with him and almost vomits again even though there’s nothing left to bring up but acid, but Stan just rubs his back a little too hard to be soothing until the urge has passed. And Richie knows that Stan was looking forward to tonight, that he’s wasted most of it looking after Richie and now they’re cutting the night short to stagger home and Stan will hold it over him forever; but Stan doesn’t leave.
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IT Chapter 2 review
First and foremost I want to say how good the casting was for the older losers but mostly Eddie. They do a bit with older Eddie's face overlayed younger Eddie's face and holy fuck bro
Secondly, people have mentioned the very homophobic scene the movie opens with and how rough it is to watch, they're right it is tough to watch, but it's also how the book opens if I remember correctly so I was prepared. It doesn't follow the book as much as I hoped but it was definitely cinematic. A lot of the effects were more visually appealing this time and I'm not sure if it's the budget was improved, they didnt do as much jerky cg, or they got new editors but it looked really good. I'm almost positive they made richie in love with Eddie which didnt add a whole lot the story or anything but was good all the same. I was really hoping for more Henry Bowers but I think in total he had maybe 4 minutes of screentime (and that's being generous). It didnt feel quite as cohesive as chapter 1 and I really felt like they rushed to get to the final battle. I know the whole thing is about the final battle but it just didnt feel like it flowed together well. It almost just felt like bouncing around the oh they're together then more bouncing around. Now with all that being said: you know a movie has written characters and relationships well when you truly feel emotional seeing all of them back together for the first time. I'm so incredibly glad they included the dinner scene with all of them just reuniting and being friends. You really feel their friendship there and I love it. I'm also glad they didnt include audra much outside of bill telling her he's leaving for derry. I think she would have distracted from the main characters too much. There are some solid jump scares throughout but not really any that arent expected. They're done well though so I'm not too mad at them being cliche. Also there is more than one child we see get eaten by Pennywise. I'm hesitantly giving it a 7 of 10. I was gonna go 6 but they really built the characters up so well in the first one and it carrys over so incredibly in part 2. But it's so fucking hard to turn an 1100 page book into a movie and include everything that's important to the plot. It's not bad by any means but outside of the relationship built with the losers and bill scaresgard as pennywise, it's just a run of the mill horror movie. A competently made run of the mill horror, but run of the mill nonetheless. I do absolutely recommend seeing it in theaters tho cause pennywise on the big screen is fucking terrifying
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hiyo-silver · 5 years
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Behind Blindfolds
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Nobody expected the world to end the way it does until it starts. It was always thought to happen all in one go but instead it drags on for years of feigning really living when all they're doing is surviving. In this situation maybe, surviving is really losing.
Summary: The group realizes that they can't go on forever with just what's in Stan's house, and they have to find a way to venture out of the home and out into the world for supplies.
Chapter 1 2 + ao3
Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @Thesquidliesthuman @rachi0964 @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose11 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopbichie @peachywyatt @aizeninlefox @sockwantstodie @ahoybyeler @yooonbum @coffeekaspbrak @sedanleystanley
Rations start to go down and now everyone’s moods are even lower. With two women growing children inside of them, of course the food goes quick. Better than starving the fetuses when they’re this far along. It would only make the losers feel inhumane. But their morality doesn’t make them run out of food any slower.
“You know we’re all just gonna die here, not of It, but of our own human needs. Frankly, human bodies are awful and I’m ashamed to have one,” Stan says, straightening his baby blue sweater on his torso as he paces the living room back and forth. They may all be in the worst time of their lives, but he still insists on fully dressing up, down to the polished black shoes. They click on the wood floor, it only reminds them how the clock is ticking.
For now they’re thinking of what they could do, “We could try and make a run for it? Make our way to the store, run with as much as we can carry,” Richie suggests, of course the hyperactive one suggests the one that takes the most physical activity. “We could even keep the blindfolds on, we’ll find our way there eventually,” his voice gets quieter and he shrugs embarrassedly as he gains the looks of doubts from his peers.
“Richie, how do I say this? You’re fucking stupid,” Eddie says, his voice coming loudly from his chest. Beverly hasn’t seen his hot head come out this badly yet, but it’s clear Richie is used to the behavior. “Even if we somehow could get there at some point, we’d expend too much energy! We need to manage ourselves better now, it’s not like we can consume all two thousand calories we need!” he rambles and paces even more angrily than Stan does. He’s had to be careful all of his life because his mom, but now he’s stuck here being careful again because of a monster he can’t even lay his eyes on. He can’t size it up, and that’s what scares him the most. He wants to know what he’s dealing with.
Richie slumps in his chair, picking at the skin around his fingernails, biting at it once he can’t do much more with his hands. He just wants to keep occupied, though Eddie’s ranting doesn’t phase him too much. They’ve known each other for a while, he’s been on the receiving end of this rage on more than one occasion. If he’s being honest, it turns him on a little, and that’s why he’s trying to ignore it.
“What about with some sort of camera night vision goggles? You could see what’s around you but maybe since it picks up heat signatures it wouldn’t get… that thing,” Ben suggests, his voice comes out nervously, he’s not much of a leader himself. But his writing has gotten him some ideas, if it works in the real world it’s all the better. He chews his lip as he watches Mike consider the idea.
“It could work, but we can’t risk it. Even some ghosts pop up on camera. But it’s something to try. Stan, can we test it out somehow? Any ideas?” Mike asks, letting his warm brown eyes meet with Stan’s hazel ones.
“Mike, you fucking idiot, ghosts aren’t real. My security system only picks up heat signatures for that very reason. It’s a lost cause though, Hanlon, we can’t risk it,” Stan says, sitting in his recliner with a huff. He really feels as if it’s hopeless. He hates when his perception of things change, change in general messes with him badly. He’s in shutdown mode with his anxiety, without his Patricia to comfort him like she had for years of their life together.
“Believe what you want, Uris,” Mike says, straightening up from where he’d leaned on the counter, walking around the kitchen island as he thinks. “Your control stuff for the cameras is in your office, right?” he asks, obviously very seriously considering it. He’s always had a self sacrificing attitude. He’s basically the most valuable member of this team aside from Bill. At the moment the two of them are damn near in a real power struggle. They both just want to be partners in this, but have too big of egos to actually let it happen.
“Michael, don’t you even think about it,” Beverly says, her voice smooth despite her fear. She doesn’t want to lose any of them, especially someone who plays such an important role in the group. She doesn’t want to see anyone else die, particularly someone she’s learned to be close to by now. But there’s no avoiding it. Risk one of them or risk all of them slowly and painfully.
“No, Bev, my mind is made up, if something happens it happens. If nothing happens, I can help save you guys, and your baby,” he says, going about the usual hero spiel. He gestures to her, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “But we’ll make it so nothing happens,” Mike says, opening his eyes again. “I know how, I just need your help.”
They all get up from their spots basically in sync, coming together to help him. He has them get rope and duct tape, to which Richie comments sounds “kinky.” they bring everything up to Stan’s office, though Stan stays downstairs in his spite. He knows it won’t work, they told him to stay there because they don’t need his negative energy.
They tie his back to the back of the leather chair, taping his arms down to the arm rests. They tie his legs together and then tape them to the chair as well. They want him completely immobile, it’s for his own safety. If he can’t move he can’t get hurt, right? He looks at Beverly as the others leave the room and wish him luck.
“You’re so strong, you’ll make it through this,” he says, his eyes welling with tears. It’s like he knows what’s to happen to him in the span of the next few minutes. “Now, little red, make your way downstairs to where it’s safe. I’ll see you guys all soon.” Beverly nods, evading his tearing eyes with her own. She turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her as he’s left to do what he knows he has to.
He pushes the button to turn on the computer. The screen comes up, panels of the security cameras coming up, mostly all aimed at the outside of the house, it’s fine at first. A bright light passes over the screen, his eyes flicker in response. He blinks quickly and shakes his head, he thinks he was just seeing something.
It’s only a few more moments until it gets worse. He feels pressure on his throat and in his ears. He sees another kind of light and lets out what he can of a scream. The group hears it from downstairs. They’d already been on the edge of their seats but the scream makes them jump into action. They grab blindfolds from the coffee table. They need to save him but they can’t see whatever has got him. It would only be counterproductive.
They push and shove each other up the stairs, throwing the door open, finding him on the wood floor, still attached to the chair, the chair had fallen with him with a crash unlike anything they’d heard before. The thump of a body combined with the fall of a heavy chair is a sound like no other. They fight to get the computer turned off without looking, and they finally do. It all feels like a blur of yelling and pushing. This must be what it feels like to be completely hopeless, Beverly believes. She’s the first one to remove her blindfold.
She sees him lying there, his eyes wide open, all black, his sclera covered with something dark, which she realizes later, realizes in the near future, was blood. There was blood coming from his ears, bruising all around his neck. It looks like a goddamn crime scene. She doesn’t want to be so emotional. She’s pregnant and hormonal, she’ll blame it all on that, but she falls to her knees and sobs. Eddie has to pull her out of the room by her shirt sleeve. They close the door, they don’t know what to do about his body. Probably nothing. They’ll probably just never open that door again.
They spend the rest of the day in complete silence, they dim the lights. It just feels right to them, they need to spend time honoring his life, and the man he was. They still need food though. Grief doesn’t stop time, even though it feels like it. They sleep together in the living room, but when morning comes they need to talk about what to do about their supply. It may be insensitive, but that’s survival. Sometimes survival breaks morality, especially in cases like this.
In the beginning there is no conversation to this meeting. Until finally Kay speaks up, “If we’re going, I want to go. It’s partially my fault that the food is running out. I need to help,” she says, looking around to see the reactions and opinions of the others. She’s met with disagreement.
“No, you’re more vulnerable,” Stan spits out. He’s still not the happiest about Beverly and Kay and their unborn babies. He thinks that they just make it harder to move on with the idea of dying. New life connected with the idea of dying is never a pleasant combination.
“What if we c-couldn’t see out of the c-c-car windows?” Bill asks, looking among the group. A plot hatches in his head. He’s used to ignoring his grief, which is probably why his mind is clear enough to even come up with a plan. For the rest of them his avoidance of his problems almost seems like a superpower.
“We could cover the windows like the ones in here, right?” Eddie suggests, crossing his leg over his other knee in a pattern that mimics a number four. Now they have the ball rolling on what they could do. It seems in natural order for Eddie to follow Bill’s lead, he’s obviously got an amazing and creative mind, he and Bill both do, they could put it to wonderful use. In this scenario and otherwise.
“Right!” Ben jumps into the conversation, it gave him another reason for his novel. As he listens now he scribbles in his notebook with his dull pencil. It makes Beverly smile, at least he can find inspiration in this. Watching someone benefit somehow makes this all that much easier. Keeping their hopes up is the best they can do now.
“We should get to it,” Richie says with an enthusiastic slap to his knee, getting up to his feet. He still never fails to try and be a beacon of sunshine and smiles for the group, he’s decided that’s his mission. He may not be the smartest when it comes to living, his mom still cut his food for him up until the day that he ended up in Stanley’s house. But jokes, he can do jokes.
They all head for the closed garage. Stan’s car isn’t the nicest, but it is good enough to still drive. They find cans of paint on the shelves, no more cardboard though, it’s all been used up for the inside windows. Paint will do, though Stan whines and complains about how he’ll never be able to use his car again. As far as they know though, the situation may never return to how the world was before. The idea of getting food now seems much more important than trying to get a new car when this is all over. God they can only hope it’ll get any better soon.
They go to work slathering thick layers of paint over the windows, they’re scared that missing a spot could be their entire undoing. It’s almost cathartic to paint on something that in their old lives would never be okay to ruin this way. It makes them feel powerful, they definitely needed that before the journey they’re bound to make later. It’ll take more than luck, confidence is the best they can do. Driving blind isn’t of skill, just of throwing away their fear and just going for it.
“Well, w-we’ve been avoiding this b-but. Who o-of us are going?” Bill asks, looking among his group, his blue eyes don’t shine so much in here, they look more like a dreary and dark gray. He doesn’t just look sad, he truly seems to be nervous in a way the others have never seen him. “I’m d-definitely going. I’m driving,” he states before anyone else speaks up.
Beverly raises her hand slowly, “I really need to get out for a while. I’m going stir crazy,” she admits, trying not to be ashamed of wanting to go, but it doesn’t stop it entirely. Bill nods in her direction, letting her know that he’ll allow it. It’s as if he understands her endlessly restless spirit.
Ben cowers near the door to go back into the house. Bill stops him as soon as he realizes though. “Hey! Y-you worked at the supermarket, r-right? Means you kn-know the security system. N-need you,” he says, gesturing for Ben to come back into the group.
“Eddie, R-Richie, you guys too, we need Eddie’s t-tactfulness.” Bill says, then he looks at Kay and Stan, “You guys st-stay here,” Bill commands.
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Filling the blanks - Chapter 5
Playlist on Spotify (mostly songs about Heaven and duel related stuff and 1980s hits)
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Pairing: Richie x Eddie x Bill (Reddie at the start).
Summary: During his last moments, Eddie realized he had something to say, but before he could finish the sentence, he was gone. Now he’s stuck between life and death and he knows he won’t be able to rest until he takes care of what he started. The only person he trusts enough to help him is Bill.
Or: The ghost AU where Eddie’s spirit can get inside of Bill’s mind to ask him for help to tell Richie he loved him.
Warnings: Canon Divergence (IT actually kills Audra) and, of course, death of major character. Some internalized homophobia in this chapter (still some use of the F-word). Stay safe.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
AO3 LINK
Playlist on Spotify (mostly songs about Heaven and duel related stuff and 1980s hits)
Special thanks to my lovely beta-reader @golden-marauders who is always extra nice and good at what they do.
The last time Eddie saw Richie crying, he was about to say a sentence that was meant to never get finished. Now that he did it, now that he said it, now that the unbearable weight of silence is lifting off of his chest, he doesn’t feel any better and Richie is crying again.
“You…” he starts, covering his mouth with both hands as tears finally fall from his eyes, “No, you’re lying. This is all… this is too fucked up, Bill. Please drop it.”
Eddie sighs and tries to walk towards him, reaching out, as if one touch could be enough to demonstrate he’s telling the truth. But Richie won’t let him. Instead, he jumps back as if his fingers could burn him. When he lowers his hands and closes his fists —not as in an attempt of physical aggression, but in a coping mechanism that looks almost child-like— Eddie notices his lips are trembling. He had never seen him this vulnerable before.
“Just leave,” Richie begs, voice broken, “It was a super funny joke, okay? I don’t care anymore. I promise I don’t care anymore. You don’t have to say sorry or anything at all, alright? Just get out of my house, please.”
“Richie…” Eddie pleads, in the same tone.
“Bill, please, I’m telling you it’s fine, okay?! It’s fucking fine. I’m not mad, I just want you to leave.”
Eddie wants to insist. Even after that word and how it made him think he didn’t love Richie anymore for a brief instant, Eddie wants to take his honesty to the end and make sure his friend believes him. They both need that. However, he can’t get any sound out of his throat. Damn, he can’t even get air through it.
Richie’s eyes go wide and all supplication disappears when he stops for a second and sees what’s going on. Eddie wraps a hand around his own neck as his expression mutates from merciful to completely terrified. His breathing speeds up and becomes frenetic, desperate.
“What?” Richie asks, worried for the first time in the whole night, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m… Fuck, I can’t…”
F-fuck, no…
Bill understands quickly and tries to take control again, but be it because of Eddie not wanting to let him or because of his reaction being too strong for allowing him to do that, he can’t. It’s like trying to wreck a brick wall only with his mind, and he keeps hitting against it as their vision goes blurry with every thrust.
Eddie is all alone in this. He arches his back and runs a nervous hand through his hair, gasping like a fish out of water while Richie watches, frozen, still incapable of facing what’s going on.
“Beep beep, Bill, you’re starting to freak me out,” he warns. It’s not a threat; just a warning.
H-he’s not me!
“Richie, please…” Eddie implores, “I can’t breathe! I’m having an…”
Please, do s-something! Richie, h-help him, he’s not… l-lying!
Bill throws his metaphorical fists against this imaginary wall, hoping Richie will listen. He knows Eddie is not okay. Even without a body to feel it, he can tell.
“What the fuck? What do you want me to do? I…”
Eddie’s face turns red and his legs go weak, causing him to fall on his knees. Using his good hand, he frantically checks his clothes.
“Where my… where’s my in-…” he mumbles, sounding more and more out of his mind. And then he remembers, “Shit, I left it in my other body!”
“Man, seriously, this is…” Richie starts, confused and uncomfortable, his eyes going everywhere but in Eddie’s direction.
“Please!” Eddie cries, “Please help me, I can’t breathe. I really… Shit, I’m… I can’t…”
R-Richie, please! You know who h-he is! You know it’s Eddie!
Eddie looks up at Richie with pleading eyes, hand still on his own chest, breathing still fast. Richie hesitates. He’s clearly scared and something inside him has to tell him this is serious, but disorientation won’t let him react. He stares down at him, eyebrows curved with concern and fear. His thumbnail is trapped between his shaky lips.
“Please…”
Richie sighs, still shocked, still panicking, but with a new-found determination that can only be awaken by deep trust in a friend.
“Okay, you really wanna go all the way with this. I know what to do, get up.”
He takes his hand and tries to pull him up. However, it’s like grabbing a string and he just manages to get him a few inches away from the ground before he falls again.
“What—?”
“Sorry,” Eddie breathes out, “I can’t… I don’t control this arm.”
“Oh my fucking God,” Richie grumbles before recovering a heaviest confidence in his voice, “Fine, let me…”
He lowers himself and puts his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie rests his hand on Richie’s shoulder as they finally succeed to get him up. Then they go back to the corner sofa and Richie makes sure he’s alright.
“You good?”
Eddie nods.
“Awesome, I know what to do, just… Wait here and don’t you move, okay?”
“Like I could go anywhere!”
“Keep up the amazing work!” Richie shouts, rushing out of the living room, upstairs.
Eddie lays back against the back of his sit, sighing while trying to get a grip of his breathing.
You’ve got to… c-calm down, Eds. Richie’s gonna h-help you, yeah? J-just breathe with me. In and out.
Bill guides Eddie for the next minutes until Richie comes back, only to pass in front of them at the speed of light and rush into the kitchen. They hear water running and doors being opened and slammed, before their friend returns, still running and holding up, like it’s some kind of war trophy, an object Eddie can’t identify.
He doesn’t get to ask what it is, because as soon as he opens his mouth, something made of plastic goes in and shots a sweet substance into his throat. He closes his eyes when he recognizes the feeling, his breath easing down, his muscles relaxing.
“That’s it,” Richie says, “So much better, huh?”
“Yeah,” Eddie quietly confirms as the inhaler leaves his mouth.
Richie sits beside him and rubs his back in comforting circles.
“How you doing, buddy?”
“I’m… I’m okay now… Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Eddie rejoices in the possibility of breathing normally again for a while, but once his eyes are open and he rationalizes what happened and what’s laying on the coffee table, the only thing he can do is wondering why.
“Why do you… Why do you have this?”
Richie seems taken aback by the question, but he soon laughs it off.
“Oh, you mean this old thing? Well, I…”
He closes his mouth, looking for the right word to say. Or maybe the most acceptable way to explain it. His hand is no longer rubbing Eddie’s back.
“Go on?” Eddie encourages.
Richie sighs, scratching the back of his neck.
“You probably don’t remember this but… One day, when we were kids, you… I mean him… I mean…”
“You’re talking about Eddie?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you can say ‘you’.”
He doubts for an instant, but almost immediately nods.
“Alright, so… your mom said really shitty things to you. Like, super heavy stuff. And you were so upset you came to hang out with us and you… you forgot your inhaler. And that same day, you had an attack.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Eddie concurs, “It was horrible.”
“We managed to calm you down, but… we thought we’d lose you. Until It, I never thought… I never thought there could be anything in the world that could scare me that much.”
He reaches out and grabs the inhaler again, staring down at it and turning it around between his fingers.
“So I began to carry this thing around. In case you forgot yours.”
Eddie is speechless. He takes the inhaler from Richie’s hands and looks at it, too. The weight of it, its texture, its shape… its realness is overwhelming.
“Rich…”
“And when you found out about the bullshit it turned out to be, I remember I went and asked my dad what ‘gazebo’ meant. He chuckled and said ‘I’ll assume you mean placebo’ and then explained it. I asked him how could I make one and he answered that anything could be a placebo if the person who was taking it believed it would help, but the easiest way to do it was with water and sugar. So I started to fill the inhaler with that.”
“But… we knew it was bullshit. We knew it didn’t work.”
“Maybe it didn’t work… but it did help you.”
Eddie can’t help but smile. A soft, barely noticeable smile.
“It did help,” he agrees, “Thank you, Richie.”
“I never knew why I couldn’t get rid of it. I didn’t remember you or anything that happened, but I felt like I had to keep it. When I saw you in the ground, gasping, I understood… I understood everything.”
After finishing the sentence, Richie runs his hands over his face while releasing a frustrated groan, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Fuck, this is so messed up,” he growls, “How can…? Ugh, I can’t believe you’re here. But, I mean… it has to be you. Bill was right, why would he lie to me about this? He wouldn’t joke like that. Not even I would joke like that!”
“Richie—”
“And… and… damn, we fought a demonic clown! What the hell? This shouldn’t freak me out as much as it does. This isn’t that weird!”
“To be fair, it is a bit weird,” Eddie chuckles.
Richie doesn’t laugh. Shocked as he is, all he can do is remain silent, his mind working intensely to review every detail of their meeting. Eddie can’t tell at what point he began to believe them, but now that he does, it’s clearly a lot to take in.
“Shit,” Richie suddenly gasps, moving his hands away from his own face.
“What?”
“Sorry, nothing, it’s just…” He smiles, shaking his head, “My cheek kinda hurts, you know?”
Eddie frowns, confused. And then he remembers.
“I’m sorry about that,” he mutters.
“It’s okay, I deserved it.”
Richie shrugs, downplaying the importance of the matter. Even though it makes Eddie feel better for a little while, they can’t pretend it didn’t hurt both of them. They can’t pretend he didn’t confess his feelings and they can’t pretend that word wasn’t said. Of all the creative ways Richie always had to insult people, none could be as harmful as that one. And still, he chose to use it.
“I’m sorry, too,” he finally declares, quiet and ashamed.
Eddie stares at him.
“You know, for calling you a fa—”
“It’s fine, just don’t repeat it,” he answers, hand in pocket and a sad look in his eyes.
He stands up from the couch, ready to leave the topic behind, the feeling of betrayal too strong to let him sit beside Richie without breaking down. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want any more fights over something he can’t change. Over something he no longer wants to change.
“Eds,” Richie insists, “you know I didn’t—”
“Seriously, Richie, it’s fine,” Eddie interrupts him, “You just said what you thought. It’s not like no one ever said that to me before. It just hurt to hear it from you.”
“But that’s not what I think!”
“Really?” he questions, turning back at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Really! I only said that ‘cause I thought Bill was joking. I thought he was disrespecting your memory, that’s all. If I knew it was you, I wouldn’t—”
“Good to know you wouldn’t call me a faggot in my face.”
“Spaghetti man, come on, you know I didn’t mean it like—”
“Don’t call me one of your stupid names right now!” he shouts, “Don’t call me one of your stupid names after calling me that.”
Richie’s eyes open wide at the sudden change in his tone.
“Eds, calm down, you know I didn’t—”
“No, no, please don’t say that again, it just made it worse,” he cuts him off, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Don’t go ‘oh, if I knew it was you, I wouldn’t have said I think you’re a faggot, I would have just keep it to myself’. It’s fucking horrible, okay?”
“But I really don’t have a problem with that, Eds! Really, it’s no big deal. I’ve got a lot of friends who are… who are like… like you!”
“Great, what do you want? A medal? You can’t even say it!”
“You don’t get it, it’s hard for me!”
“What? What is so fucking hard for you?”
“To… to accept you’re like them!”
Eddie feels his blood burning with anger.
I-I’m gonna fucking k-kill him…
“Why?” He reclaims, “Why, Richie? Why is not wrong for them but it’s wrong for me?”
“’Cause that’s what they wanted, Eddie!”
His voice comes out so loud it resonates in all the walls. It even feels like it resonates in the whole city, and now everyone in LA knows what they’re discussing. It’s scary and a part of Eddie wants to shush him, tell him to speak lower so no one will find out about his secret. But he’s not like that anymore. He doesn’t have to hide anymore. And all it’s left is confusion.
“Who?” he softly asks.
Richie looks down, not answering.
“Who wanted that, Richie?”
Eddie hears him gulp and waits. Seconds after, Richie slowly raises his head, looking at him in the eye. He seems troubled.
“Everyone,” he responds, voice barely above a whisper, “Bowers and his stupid friends, the idiots at school… Fuck, even your mother at some point. At some weird point.” He sighs, “Everyone in that hell town. And they were right.”
“Richie…”
“Look at this place!” Richie explodes, standing up and opening his arms to show what he means, “Pretty fucking amazing, don’t you think? Well, I bought it. I bought it on my own, no help from my parents or anything. I came to LA with nothing and here I am now.”
Eddie watches in silence.
“Look at my teeth.” Richie points at his own mouth, “See? Got them fixed! I got everything fixed. Life fucking smiles at me and asks me to take it home. No more huge glasses or people beep-beeping me. The whole country laughs at my jokes. I’m one of the better dressed men in this fucking city, goddammit! I fuck actresses, supermodels, pop stars. I can’t even get out of my house without a hot twenty-something beauty giving me her number.
”They said I wouldn’t make it, huh? They said I’d die a virgin, huh? They said I wouldn’t go anywhere. Well, joke’s on them! I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted. People think I’m hilarious, people think I’m smart, people want me to sleep with them. Go tell the thirteen year old nerd in Derry he would come this far. Go tell all those assholes that that loser would come this far.”
“Richie—”
“Oh, but wait, I’m not the only one. Haystack got hot, got the job of his dreams and married the woman he’s been in love with since he was a kid. Bev designs clothes for the gods, practically. She faced her abuser and won her own life over. Stan had a nice life. Sure, It fucked it up, but before that he got a wife he loved and he was happy with her.
”Bill became famous. He took all the shitty stuff that happened without even realizing it and turned it into something people would make him rich for. He married an actress and he was respected and no one cared about his stuttering anymore. People only wanted to hear what he had to say.
”Mike survived hell. Mike really survived hell. He sacrificed himself so all of us could live our lives. And yeah, maybe he didn’t make it as good as he deserved, but he still had a good job. He worked with books and history and all the nerdy stuff he loved so fucking much. It wasn’t perfect but it was something.
”We all made it. We all proved them wrong. Richie is actually funny, Ben is hot, Bev is more than just her body, Bill is more than his stuttering, Mike is more than the black guy and Stan was more than the Jew. But—”
“But Eddie was still the faggot,” Eddie quietly nods, looking down, “Is that what you’re saying, Richie? Is that what you think about me?”
Richie sighs.
“Ugh, why do I always have to be the bad guy?” He mutters, “No, Eds, that’s not what I mean at all! I just… I just really wanted them to be wrong about you, like they were about everybody else. I didn’t want them to win.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. Bill has been completely silent for a while. Richie takes the beer bottle from the table and takes a sip.
“They didn’t win, Richie,” Eddie suddenly clarifies, “They almost won, they were winning, but… they didn’t win.”
Richie just stares back at him, puzzled.
“I know they thought I was just a faggot, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s what you think, too. ‘Cause… I’ve got a job, too, you know? Not only a job, but my own business. I loved cars and I made them my living. I drove for actors, musicians, politicians. All kind of famous, respectable people that maybe you fucked at some point of your life. They trusted me with their safety ‘cause I was good at what I did.
”I had my own place, too. A very nice place. And a woman who loved me more than anything waiting for me there. That’s something I think you don’t have. I mean, I don’t see it anywhere.
”I was successful, I did everything I thought I wanted to do, but I wasn’t happy. Forty fucking years, Richie, and the only moment of true happiness I ever had was when I was dying. ‘Cause I finally understood. I finally had something that money couldn’t buy. And it felt amazing. It was the first time all that success translated into something I could really feel as mine. I would take those five minutes of ‘being just a faggot’ over years of ‘proving them wrong’ anytime.”
Eddie hasn’t stopped to really look at Richie until now. Although he seemed to be doing that during the whole speech, it was just to make a point and he didn’t care about how Richie was reacting then. Everything that mattered was showing how sure of his words he was. He was just trying to feel powerful. He couldn’t tell his mother and the people from Derry all of this, but he could tell someone who needed to listen. That was enough.
Now it’s time to analyze the consequences of that decision. It won’t change anything, he already said what he had to say and he isn’t planning to take it back, but he wants to reap the fruits of what he sowed.
Richie has his arms crossed and is looking down at his own feet. It’s strange, because Eddie expected a burst of attacks and insults, the kind of stuff that used to happen when someone confronted Richie when they were kids. Or simply a smartass response, something for his compressed fury to hold on. But he’s standing there, biting his lower lip, looking like a child who got called out by his parents.
He’s not that far away from what Eddie is saying. He’s close enough for Eddie to reach out and grab him and take him out from the bubble he is trapped in. Just the smallest of pushes…
“Maybe you should start asking yourself if proving them wrong is that worthy,” Eddie concludes, “For me it wasn’t. Do you think that you being unsatisfied with your perfect life will teach them a lesson? ‘Cause I think that’s what they really wanted.”
Richie doesn’t reply. He stays still, so encapsulated by his own, indecipherable thoughts that he’s no longer in the scene anymore. Eddie waits, but nothing happens. The bubble doesn’t pop.
D-drop it, Eddie. You did what you… h-had to do. Let’s go.
Eddie nods and turns around, walking towards the exit.
“Goodbye, Richie. Have a nice life.”
You deserve b-better.
His fingers are almost around the doorknob when it happens. Richie says something.
“Did you really mean that?”
Eddie turns back at him, skeptical.
“Mean what?”
Richie inhales deeply.
“You know… that.”
“I meant everything I said, Richie.”
“Yeah, but… Bill said you were…” he gulps, “In love with… with me.”
The answer takes a while to come, but when it does, there’s no shadow of reluctance on it. Confident as a bullet between the eyes.
“Yes.”
“Is that true?”
Eddie nods seriously.
“You’re in love with me?”
“Yes.”
“Not as friends.”
“Not as friends.”
“In a homosexual way.”
“Yes.”
“In an ‘I would suck your dick’ kind of way.”
“Well, maybe not at this particular moment. I’m pretty fucking pissed off right now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Richie exhales the smallest amount of air and sits back on the couch.
“Shit, this is… this is a lot,” he mumbles, “I… I don’t know what to tell you… When… when did it start? How did you realize? I know most people just wake up with the revelation that Richie Tozier is the hottest man on Earth, but… you? I thought you were better than that.”
“Could you talk like an adult for one second, please?” he complains, walking back to him, “This is not a joke for me.”
“Damn, Eds, I seriously hope it isn’t, ‘cause you’re giving me a heart attack.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Eddie whispers, sitting next to him, “This was such a stupid idea. Falling in love with you is such a stupid idea in general.”
“I know, right?”
“I’m sorry I told you.”
“I’m kinda sorry you did, too… You’ve… you’ve given me a lot to think, you know?”
“It’s always dangerous to make you think too much,” he chuckles.
Richie giggles, too.
“I could live without knowing it,” he admits, abruptly saddened.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t leave without telling you.”
“I don’t…” He releases a breathless laugh, probably feeling as stupid as Eddie feels, “Fuck, I’ve got to be really honest here, alright?”
“That’s all I’m asking from you.”
“I never… thought about you… in that way, you know? Well, I never thought about any of the Losers in that way. I just… I didn’t think about it. I never saw you like… more than a friend.”
Eddie can’t hide his disappointment. He knew it would happen, but it still hurts.
“I get it… Thanks for—”
“No, wait, there’s more.”
“Oh, fuck, there’s more…”
Richie turns a bit on his seat, now facing him. His lips are parted and convulsing in an almost imperceptible way, perhaps revealing that there are words behind them fighting for coming out. Eddie notices the thick ball of spit sliding down the insides of his throat. This has to be the hardest thing to say for him and Eddie is willing to wait all night long if he must. He came this far to tell his truth and he won’t leave without hearing Richie’s.
“Look, Eds, you never gave it a thought, as far as I know. I didn’t do it, either. It never crossed my mind. But… fuck, this really changes everything, doesn’t it? It’s like when a girl you’ve never been interested in says she wants you and then you start thinking ‘do I want her, too?’ I mean, that kind of thing.”
Eddie’s heart flips.
“Who am I in this situation?” he manages to ask, voice walking on a tightrope, “The girl?”
“Yeah! I-I mean, no. I mean… Fuck, this so hard to explain. I just… I’m just sitting here, trying to remember everything. I feel like… like I missed something. Like It’s still got a part of my memory. A super important part when it was obvious you wanted me and I didn’t notice. Some kind of hint, I don’t know. This is a mess.”
“No, it isn’t,” Eddie corrects him, almost smiling and taking his hand, “I feel like I missed something, too. It all hit me in one instant, too. But you know what? I didn’t question it. I didn’t review my whole life trying to find the exact point when I started… loving you. ‘Cause I didn’t feel like I had to justify myself. This is not a trial, I didn’t do anything wrong. That’s why I can’t tell you when I realized. I don’t have that answer, and if you really understood how I feel, you wouldn’t need it, either.”
Richie looks down, conflicted.
“Jesus fuck…” he whispers.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just… you’re holding my hand.”
Eddie looks down, too, and finds out he never let go. The warm presence of the back of Richie’s hand under his palm is terrifying. Everything that he can feel through Bill’s five senses is overwhelming somehow, but Richie’s fingers between his is another level of shock he isn’t prepared to tolerate. Still, he keeps holding his hand, experimentally caressing it with his thumb.
“Oh, yeah,” he confirms, “Want me to… to let go?”
Richie goes stiff.
“Oh, no, it’s okay, really. It’s just…” he gulps, “It feels… different… weird.”
“Oh… you mean good weird or—”
“Good weird,” Richie states, without a shadow of a doubt, “Definitely good weird.”
“Good weird is good.”
“Yeah… it’s good.”
They stare at their hands, mesmerized. They seem to fit together so perfectly, like they were meant to be. Eddie feels embarrassed for thinking that, for becoming such a cliché. He recalls the moments in their childhood when Richie would return from playing in the mud or holding frogs, and try to touch him with his dirty hands. Or when, in cold winter days, he would put them on his cheeks, making him screech from the freezing feeling. Or those legendary birthday parties, always finishing with Richie eating cake without a fork and running after Eddie with his fingers painted with chocolate just to freak him out.
He used to want Richie’s hands so far away from him. He used to hate them so much… and now he feels like he couldn’t live without them. Even without being actually alive, even after dying, he knows he would die again if Richie stops this.
Eddie looks up to his eyes again and Richie imitates him. He didn’t remember his eyes were so big. Maybe the glasses magnified them, but he never thought about them regardless that attention-calling trait. It’s like he never looked at him until now. And by the way his friend is staring back, he could say this is the first time Richie looks at him, too.
Then Richie chuckles.
“Holy shit, this is so embarrassing,” he confesses, shaking his head, “I’m sweating. I feel like an awkward twelve year old.”
“That’s how I feel all the time,” Eddie says, smiling.
“Fuck, man, it’s horrible,” Richie keeps laughing, “How do I make it stop?”
“I don’t know! I just… I don’t know.”
They stay like that for a while, irresistibly amused by their own unease. It’s the best thing they can do, now that their friendship is ruined, for better or worse. There’s no way they can dance around it forever. Be it for a nice closure or a temporal pain in the heart, this will take their relationship to a different place. A place that is scary for both of them, a place that could break them, but different, after all. They both know they need different more than anything.
“I can’t believe this,” Richie whispers, leaving all the jokes behind, “Shit, Eds, you’re here. I can’t… You came back, I’m talking to you. I never thought I’d get to talk to you again. This is… this is fucking insane! I feel like I’m going insane. You’re sure you aren’t It, right?”
“I promise you I’m not It,” Eddie smiles.
“I… Damn, I need you to understand how weird this all is,” he insists, running his free hand over his cheek, making him jump a bit, “’Cause I know it’s you. Like, I really know it’s you. But it’s also Bill. I mean, this is Bill’s face. And I’m so fucking confused.”
“It’s okay. I’m confused, too.”
“There’s so… so many things I want to say. So many things I could never even begin to—”
“Try, Richie,” he murmurs, altering between looking into his eyes and paying quick stares to his lips, “Please try. I wanna hear everything.”
Richie’s fingertips travel down the line of his jaw, until his thumb reaches his lower lip and gently caresses it. Eddie closes his eyes at the touch. It’s measured, tentative, like they’re testing unknown waters and don’t want to drown. Without even realizing it, he gives Richie’s thumb a soft peck.
“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Richie finally breaks, “I can’t believe I left you there. I knew you hated it, I knew you’d be scared, and still I—”
Eddie slowly opens his eyes.
“Stop that,” he begs, “You didn’t leave me there. Can’t you see? I’m here. Bodies mean nothing. When you’re gone —and I hope it happens when you’re very, very old—, you’ll understand that bodies mean nothing. They’re just… they’re just the shape we take to move around the world and feel sensory stuff, nothing else. I’m not in the sewers, I’m here with you. That piece of flesh is rotting and will never be found, but we’re sitting on your couch having a conversation right now. So please don’t apologize. You did what you had to do and I’ll never hate you for that.”
“I… Look, I know you’re right, but you don’t get it. You don’t know how much it fucking hurts. I watched my best friend die. That shit… that shit isn’t rational, it’s like Jackie Chan kicking you on the chest. It just… it hurts so fucking much and you can’t see that.”
“I know it hurts, Richie. Really, I do. It hurt to see you cry, too. That’s why I smiled. I didn’t want our last moment together to be a horrible memory or a traumatic thing. But it really hurt me to see you crying and how I couldn’t do anything to fix it.”
“Why did you have to do that, Eds?” he whimpers, “Nobody asked you to do that. We got ourselves in that place, you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Would you let me die?”
Richie frowns.
“Sorry, what?”
“I’m asking you if you would let me die… if I wasn’t already dead. Would you have left me there, staring into the deadlights?”
“What kind of stupid question is that? Fuck, Eds, of course I wouldn’t.”
“Then why is it wrong when I do it? ‘Cause I didn’t do it out of pure friendship?”
Richie exhales a humorless laugh.
“No, really, tell me. Is it about me being gay for you? You think it makes it some corny big gesture from a romantic drama? Some Titanic bullshit?”
“Man, are you fucking serious? I’m glad you saved my life, I don’t care about the reason, but I’m kinda sad you had a horrible death, what’s so homophobic about it?”
“I told you I love you, you fucking asshole, and you can’t even give me a proper answer, but you’ll just say ‘nothing homophobic going on here’.”
“I just don’t have a proper answer! Sorry, Eds, I don’t! I’m fucking confused. I never looked at a man, and I know that’s something ‘straight’ guys say all the time, but it’s the truth. And now I’m not sure if I’m just thankful ‘cause you saved my life and sad ‘cause you died or if I’m…”
He goes quiet before saying it, but Eddie knows well enough. The only reason why he doesn’t interrupt him, is because he’s aware how bad Richie needs to say it. That’s a necessity he can definitely understand.
“I think you get the picture,” Richie finishes, ashamed.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“I know you didn’t come here to hear me say ‘I have no idea of what the hell is going on…’ I know you needed a ‘me too’ or a ‘fuck off.’ I’m sorry, Eddie Spaghetti.”
“Don’t call me that. But… I guess that’s better than a ‘fuck off’,” he chuckles, “It isn’t a ‘fuck off’, right?”
Richie smiles, too.
“Not a ‘fuck off’ at all.”
“But it isn’t a ‘me too’, either,” Eddie sighs.
“Look, Eds, the thing is…” Richie starts, squeezing his hand for the shortest moment, “I don’t know.”
Eddie looks up at him, perplexed.
“What?”
“Guess this is one of those things that would be a lot easier if you really were here now. Like, your body. Don’t get me wrong, Bill’s eyes are stunning,” he laughs, “but… I wish I was looking at yours. Your real eyes, that now feed the family of a hard-working worm who—”
“Beep-beep, Richie.”
“Sorry, got a bit carried away. I just think… it’d be so… I mean, it shouldn’t be that complicated… if… you know… Ugh, I really want to ask you something, but I don’t know the straight way to say it.”
Eddie can’t help but laugh.
“Then say it in the gay way.”
Richie lets go of his hand, closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like an actor who is preparing to come out to stage. Damn, maybe he does that before acting. And now he’s doing it because of Eddie.
“Alright, I’ll just… say it, okay? But don’t get me wrong.”
“Richie, no one ever gets anything you say, just do it.”
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it! I’m just taking my time, ‘cause… Well, here I come… Can I… Can I kiss you?”
The request takes Eddie by surprise, giving him no chance of camouflaging his shock. His expression doesn’t go unnoticed for Richie, who doesn’t waste a second before start explaining himself.
“I mean, it’d really help me to figure out if… if it’s a ‘fuck off’ or a… ‘me too’… But, I mean, you don’t have to do it. I won’t make you do something you don’t wanna do. I’m not even sure I wanna do it, I just think it would help. And, you know, people say I’m a good kisser. Like, a girl once told me I was the only guy she knew who took his time and didn’t go for tongue-on-tongue action too soon, and that’s when I was nineteen, so it says a lot…”
“Richie—”
“And my ex-girlfriend, not the latest one but the one before her, went crazy when I did that thing… You know, the thing of…” He does a weird movement with his lips that makes Eddie want to run away and never come back, “And that’s a very popular thing. And I was in a romantic comedy like, four years ago, and Vogue said it was one of the best kisses of the year, so—”
“Richie, I—”
“What I’m trying to say is that you won’t be disappointed, if that’s bothering you, but you don’t have to do it if you—”
“Will you fucking listen to me?”
Richie shuts his mouth and gulps.
“Rich, there’s nothing I’d like more than kiss you right now, really, but… this is not my body. I’m not the only one you should be asking for permission.”
They both stay in silence for a while. Richie looks disenchanted, but Eddie can tell he knows he’s right. After everything Bill did to make this last goodbye possible, the goodbye life decided to take away from them, they can’t disrespect him like this. He’s their friend above everything else. Even above their questions.
D-do it.
Eddie jumps at the sudden voice inside his head. Richie goes alert like a hunter’s hound.
“What?” Eddie asks, dazed.
“Is he talking to you?”
“Shhh, I want to hear him…”
Do it if you w-want to, Eddie. It’s okay.
“Bill, are you… are you sure? This is still your body and still your decision. You’ve got the last word on it…”
I-I know. And I’m sure. You both need this… c-closure. I’m not stopping you.
“Fuck, this is… but do you really—”
Eddie, you asked me to t-trust you. Now I’m asking you to… t-trust me. C’mon, kiss him like you mean it.
There’s a complicity in his tone that makes Eddie smile. Richie, who only can hear a half of the conversation, is impossibly confused.
“He said yes?”
Eddie nods, practically shining with happiness.
“Fucking God, he said yes!” Richie exclaims, so excited he almost sounds like he just proposed. Then he takes Eddie by the chin and makes him lean to the side, shouting into his ear, “Thank you, Billy!”
“You know he can still hear you when you talk normally, don’t you?” Eddie groans.
“Oh, don’t you try to change the topic on me, Eds. C’mere and give daddy a kiss.”
And this is the moment when I leave you guys alone.
“Only if you don’t ever call yourself daddy again.”
“No promises,” Richie winks, putting his hand on Eddie’s chin again, this time to bring him closer to his face.
Eddie closes his eyes and gives in. There’s nothing else to do. This is the actual climax of his life. Not his graduation, not his wedding, not his final sacrifice; this. All those years of surviving without living were built specifically to come to this conclusion. Once Richie’s lips meet his, it will all be over. He has to make it count.
It’s a soft touch with the slightest of pressures. They stay together for a few seconds and all Eddie can think about is how unfair it is that Bill is the writer, not him. Because this is the kind of kiss he wished he could describe in the most delightful and detailed way, using all the literary devices that would make the great authors of history claim ‘purple prose, purple prose!’ and go after him with tridents and sharp pencils like a lynch mob. But he can’t do that. He doesn’t have the words to do that.
There’s so much life in this kiss, that’s the only thing Eddie can really say about it. The whole life of any human being could be summarized with this kiss. The hesitation and gentleness of every first kiss, the hunger for new experiences of teenagers who start to discover the other’s body, the trust and dedication of two friends who know they would literally die for each other. Everything compressed in such a simple, yet so meaningful gesture.
Richie’s lower lip caresses Eddie’s upper. Still a touch, no sound or wetness required. Eddie melts against the feeling, their noses rubbing together in an almost awkward way. Richie’s hand is on his cheek and he leans the side of his face against it. They keep brushing their lips together, surrendering to the overwhelming magic of being so close after they thought they had lose each other.
That’s how it ends. They separate and slowly open their eyes, trying to control their panting. Richie was right, it is like being twelve years old again. It feels so unreal, so unbelievable… but not unnatural. Unnatural is the only thing that doesn’t cross their minds.
“I love you, Richie,” Eddie whispers.
Richie bites his lip and groans. It kind of seems like he’s about to puke, but it’s not enough to qualify as a gagging.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back.”
“I want to…” Richie tells him, “I mean, I wish I could, but…”
“You’re not ready,” Eddie finishes, a sad grin on his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t—”
“Someday I’ll be,” he hurries to explain, “Just… not today, Eds. Not when you need me to be ready. And I’m really fucking sorry for that.”
Eddie shakes his head, unexpectedly amused.
“Richie, I don’t need you to be ready. Now or in forty more years, I don’t need you to,” he smiles, taking his hand, “But, when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you… if you still want me.”
“It might take a long time.”
“Yeah, but… it’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you.”
Richie looks disconcerted for a while, and then laughs.
“Oh, fuck, I remember that song!” he says, “Shit, I… I remember everything.”
Eddie looks down.
“I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” Richie confesses.
“Yeah, me too, but we’ll see each other again… Very fucking soon if you keep up the cancer sticks.”
“And there he is. I’m officially convinced you’re Eds.”
“You still doubted it?”
They laugh again. Considering the situation, laughing is getting way too easy.
“We’re really… meeting again, aren’t we?” Richie dares to ask.
“Sure, why not? I mean, you’ve been my personal hell since we were kids. Like it would be so easy to get rid of you.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” he jokes, “And right when I was starting to think you were a friendly ghost.”
Not willing to listen to more nonsense, Eddie kisses him again. This time with more confidence, more possession, and all Richie can do is take it as it comes and throw his arms around Eddie’s neck, the thought of how no woman in all his life has kissed him like this or made him feel this way invading his mind.
But as soon as it started, it’s over. Eddie backs off and blinks a few times, as if he just came in and has no idea of what is going on. Richie gets it, no matter how much he wished he didn’t.
“He… he’s gone, isn’t he?” He asks, voice low and vacillating.
Bill bites his lower lip, eyes watering. He expected this to happen and he’s been preparing himself for it, but he still needs to convince himself he’s as upset as Richie is. Whatever takes his mind off the fact he can still taste Richie’s mouth on his own.
“I-I… I think he is,” he confirms. The next thing he knows is that they’re in each other’s arms, crying. “I’m so… s-sorry, Rich.”
Richie doesn’t answer. He limits to hold him tight, almost as if he was pretending that Eddie is hiding behind those clothes and hair and face. He refuses to accept a person, a whole person with a name and a job and lots of people around them, can disappear just like that. Being life the most important possession any human being can have, it can’t be fragile and volatile enough to fly out of a body in a mere instant and never come back. It can’t be that simple.
However, he has to face it. Eddie is no longer there. He’s gone. The only thing that exists right now is Bill. His good, old friend Bill, who is showing him support and empathy in a hug that says everything. Who went through all this work just to help both Eddie and him. Bill has to be enough. He must. He should.
Richie is doing all he can to turn this idea into his new religion and philosophy, when he notices something. Bill’s right arm is not holding him anymore.
“You really thought I would leave without saying goodbye?”
Richie grabs his shoulders and pushes him away, a shook expression on his face. Eddie laughs.
“You little shit!”
“I’m sorry…” he apologizes, still chuckling, “I really am, I just… you didn’t think I wouldn’t say goodbye, did you?”
“I don’t know, you’ve been such a spiritual pretentious asshole since you transcended and discovered the secrets of the fucking universe.”
He’s kinda right.
“Well, but I wouldn’t go like that. I mean, unless Bill wants me to…”
They silently wait for an answer that Bill is taking way too much time to give.
You can s-stay as long as you w-want.
Eddie smiles.
“He’s okay with it.”
“Shit, I knew it! Thank you, Billy!” Richie shouts into his ear again.
“Okay, but you really don’t need to do that.”
The three of them laugh.
“I hate to ruin the party,” Richie says, “but exactly how long are you allowed to stay before he recurs to the nearest exorcist?”
“I’ll have to ask him…”
I’ll be in LA for t-two weeks. I’ve got to fix some… st-stuff. You know, producers and e-everything. You can stick around ‘till I go back to England.
“We have two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” Richie exclaims, hopping out his seat, “But that’s such a short time and there’s so much to see! I won’t even be able to take you to all the shitty places where I go to get drunk or get high or get drunk and high or—”
“Richie, that sounds amazing, but I’m really tired and Bill has to be up super early tomorrow. We should get going.”
“Oh.”
“But we can see each other after Bill’s meeting. We could have lunch together and then you can take me to your… shitty places to get drunk and high, if Bill doesn’t mind.”
I don’t mind.
“He doesn’t mind.”
“Uh… well, that’s awesome. My worky things are in the morning, too, so… Guess I’ll see you then.”
“I guess so.”
After a few more uncomfortable chuckles, Richie walks them to the door.
“1PM tomorrow?” He smiles.
“Don’t be late, Trashmouth,” Eddie imitates him.
“Make sure to wear your lace underwear.”
“Please don’t wear the elephant boxers.”
“I threw them away! I’m too fat for them now, anyway… and long.”
“Too much information.”
“Yeah, definitely too much,” he winks.
Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs. They’re serious again before the previous jokes even get the time to settle in.
“You think this will work?” Richie asks, “I mean… us? This scary, weird new thing?”
“Rich, we bit the shit out of a child-eating demon clown… do you really think this is weird and scary?”
“Maybe not that scary but… clearly weird.”
“That’s what I like about you.” He gently holds his hand and squeezes it. “We’ll figure it out.”
Richie nods without hiding the soft smile that reaches his lips.
“Goodnight, Eds.”
“Goodnight.”
With everything said, Eddie turns around and starts walking away, into the dreamily darkness of the garden. Once he hears the front door shutting down, he lets Bill take control again.
“That went w-well,” Bill admits.
It wasn’t a ‘me, too.’
“It wasn’t a ‘fuck off.’”
Eddie doesn’t talk.
“Y-you’ll be fine, Eddie. Just trust me.”
Always.
Tag list: @trippy-alexissss
I know there was more people who wanted to be tagged, but I lost the list with their urls so, if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I’m so sorry for these problems.
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not-reddie · 6 years
Text
Night Changes - chapter one.
Summary: On a subconscious level, Eddie has always been attracted to Richie Tozier. He was quite happy for life to go on with Richie blissfully unaware of the feelings he had towards him. But then everything changes when Richie goes away the summer before their senior year, and comes back looking hotter than Eddie ever thought possible. He’s not sure he can hide his feelings that well anymore. 
Word Count: 2.6k
[Chapter one] [Chapter three]
Eddie Kaspbrak spat out the remainder of his mouthwash into the sink, and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. He checked his reflection in the mirror one final time, standing on his tiptoes to get as close the mirror as he could, pulling at his skin with his hands to stretch it, searching for imperfections. He was disappointed to find that he had a small cluster of spots appearing on his forehead, red and irate, despite his diligent skincare routine.
Puberty, in Eddie’s opinion, had failed to be kind to him. His skin had always been clear as a child, but now it seemed that for every blackhead he managed to get rid of, at least three more appeared in its place. His voice was still in that awkward stage where it was cracking at unexpected moments and resulting in Eddie to make the most unusual sounds, mostly low rumbles that resemble donkey calls.
It had made him exceedingly self conscious, but the nail in the coughing for Eddie was that puberty had done very little to improve his height situation. He had only grown 2, maybe 3, inches, meaning that he had graduated from extra small child to petite woman height. The only thing Eddie had hoped to gain from puberty was the one thing that wasn’t granted to him.
He turned the bathroom light out and tiptoed down the hall to his bedroom, making sure to avoid the creaky pieces of floorboard because he didn’t want to wake his mom up, who he could hear snoring downstairs, drowning out the muffled voices of the people on the television.
He got into bed, pulling his duvet up halfway, only to his waist and then made sure to carefully tuck himself in. The summer heat still lingered in the air of his bedroom, and he flipped his pillow over so that he was lying on the cool side. He wiggled around a little, sighing in content when he had found the most comfortable sleeping position.
Closing his eyes, he waited for the exhaustion he had been feeling for the past hour to sweep him up and carry him away into a deep sleep. However, the longer he waited, the more any ounce of tiredness he had seemed to seep out of him and completely disappear. This was a regular occurrence for Eddie, so he shouldn’t really have been surprised; his mind liked to wait until he was relaxed and letting his guard down before it turned against him and filled with overwhelming, anxiety inducing thoughts, and there’s absolutely nothing he could do about it.
He kicked his duvet off in an angry huff and clasped his hands over his stomach, admitting defeat as he opened his eyes and stared into the pitch black at his ceiling, the swirly pattern of the plastering slowly coming into his view as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
There was only a week of school left before they broke up for summer, and Eddie couldn’t wait. He had missed the long summer days where he no exams or homework or project deadlines to worry about, where he could spend his whole day lounging around at the quarry with the rest of the losers, eating ice cream and creating bonfires when it got dark, staying out late into the evening because it’s still warm out and it doesn’t get dark until really late. His mother is usually more lenient with him in summer, too, let’s him on a looser leash because she doesn’t have to worry about him getting a cold or more dramatically, being kidnapped in the darkness.
Eddie’s really excited to turn 18 in just a few short months, so he can legally be free and do what he wants, and not feel guilty for making his own decisions. Although he suspects that his mom will probably find a way to control him anyway, because if there’s one thing Sonia Kaspbrak is good at, it’s manipulation.
But of course, summer and becoming of age had their consequences. Summer meant that senior year was rapidly approaching, and then the future he had been thinking about since he was 13 would become a reality, and that was fucking scary. Eddie wasn’t fond of change, he quite liked routine and familiarity, and senior year meant that everything would change.
Senior year meant applying for colleges, and then all his friends would be leaving him and getting far, far away from this shitty town that they called home, because it’s all they seemed to talk about, moving away and never looking back.
It seemed that all of Eddie’s friends had a plan of where they wanted to go and what they would do after college. Even Richie, who just so happened to be the most impulsive and indecisive person Eddie had ever met in his life, had gotten his whole life planned. He wanted to go to LA and be an impressionist, or a radio host, or just something where he could talk and be heard for once.
But Eddie? He had no idea. He wanted to leave Derry as much as everybody else did, but it felt less realistic every time he thought about it. Could he really leave his mother behind? A big part of him wanted to, for everything she had put him through, all the lies and fake medication and manipulation. But Sonia Kaspbrak was all that Eddie had ever known, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to ever break away from that. He knew that in her own twisted way, she really did love him, so thinking of leaving her behind twisted deep in his gut like a knife.
It was most likely that everybody would get out Derry, everybody but him. They would all go and be happy elsewhere and they would abandon him, leave him here all alone to suffer, because everybody else’s ties to derry are strings that are thin like wool and easy to cut, but Eddie’s ties are big metal chains that weigh him down and suffocate him.
He jerks his head a few times against his pillow, as if he’s trying to physically shake the thoughts away. He needs to think about something else, because his heart starts to beat a little too fast and his breathing becomes a little too heavy, and he feels the tell tale signs of a panic attack which for so many years he had mistaken as asthma, and he refused to use his inhaler. He still kept one in his fanny pack, because old habits die hard, but it had been a whole two months since he had stopped using it, and he’ll be damned if he has to start using it again now.
He thinks back to the start of his day, when Richie Tozier had quite annoying climbed through his bedroom window at 7am and crawled into bed with him. The dip of Richie’s weight had roused him from his deep slumber, and his eyes shot open in panic,but instantly calming when he saw that it was Richie. Eddie had felt a surge of annoyance when looked over at the clock on his nightstand and saw the time. His initial reaction had been to quietly whisper yell at the taller boy (God forbid his mother came in to check on him), but then he saw the expression on Richie’s face.
It was an expression that Eddie knew all too well. Richie’s face was set  hard, his jaw clenched tightly and his lips were pulled tight into a thin line. Richie looked furious and unbreakable on the outside, but it was the softness in his eyes that gave him away to how he was truly feeling. He was of course angry, but he was also hurt. Like, really hurt. Richie’s eyes showed so much vulnerability that it made his heart clench painfully.
Eddie had instantly known that Richie had gotten into another argument with his parents. Probably his dad, because his mom often drank herself into a coma and forgot that she had a son to begin with. His dad was a very impatient man with a short temper, which when added to Richie’s ADHD and inability to keep his mouth shut, made for a very explosive outcome. Sometimes it had gotten so bad that his dad would resort to violence and punch him, and Richie would always come straight to Eddie’s so that he could vent and cry whilst Eddie very carefully patched him up. Richie liked to come across like he didn’t care, which was why he was so loud and obnoxious and made so many crude jokes. Everybody knows that Richie is the way he is to hide how much he’s broken on the inside, and Richie knows that they know, but Eddie’s pretty positive that Richie only let’s Eddie see him cry. It shouldn’t make him feel good, but it does.
So when Richie had slowly turned to look at Eddie, eyes brimming with unshed tears, Eddie had snapped his mouth shut and wiggled backwards, moving closer to the wall to give Richie some space and silently inviting him to come and lie down with him. Richie gave him a watery smile, and Eddie felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. A few tears escaped down Richie’s cheeks, and Eddie watched as he harshly wiped them away, his nose and cheeks slightly red. In that moment, Richie looked beautiful. Eddie cursed himself for thinking it, because Richie was hurting, and he knew it wasn’t an appropriate time to be thinking about stuff like that, but he just couldn’t help it. Eddie opened his arms up invitingly, and Richie instantly accepted, cuddling up to Eddie and burying his face into his chest.
They spent the next few hours in that exact same position, and Eddie’s body had gone completely numb in a way that felt uncomfortable, but he continued to lie there, unmoving, soothingly running his hands through Richie’s hair - (extra gently though, because for some reason Richie got really jerky and flustered whenever Eddie accidentally tugged it, and although Richie never explained why, Eddie just assumed that he didn’t like it) - as Richie snoozed, and when he woke up, he gave Eddie a rare smile that was so warm and fond that it had made every second of uncomfortable numbness completely worth it, and Eddie would do it again a thousand times if it meant Richie would smile at him like that.
Eddie had realised that he was gay when he was 14 years old. Bill had been invited to a Halloween party by a girl in his science class who thought he was cute, and Bill had taken it upon himself to invite the rest of the losers club. Everybody jumped at the chance to go out and really excited to go, except for Eddie. Well, maybe Stan too. Stan didn’t want to go because he hated large crowds and he found socialising outside of his friend group extremely uncomfortable, but all it had taken for him to agree to go was everybody promising him that they wouldn’t leave his side the whole night, and they would make sure that he didn’t have to talk to anybody that he didn’t want to.
Eddie remembered dreading the party, because it was going to be crawling with germs and everything that the sweaty teenagers around him touched was going to be highly unsanitary, and he was convinced he was going to contract some sort of disease from just looking at the mess that was being created. He had only agreed because Richie had begged him constantly, telling Eddie that it wouldn’t be any fun without him, and quite frankly Richie’s whining was getting really annoying. So he had huffed out a “fine” and tried not to think about the way his heart had rapidly sped up when Richie had grinned at him in delight and promised him a good time whilst winking at him.
At some point, somebody had yelled “let’s play spin the bottle!” and the whole room had erupted in cheers, helping to move the furniture so that they all had enough space to sit in a large circle on the floor.
Eddie had been very seriously considering sitting this one out, because he’d never kissed anybody properly before, not really, he didn’t actually count the time Amelia Arnolds had struck her tongue down his throat the year before.
He had only dated her for a week, and he was lucky enough to find a girl willing to date him who was not only nice but really pretty, but he just didn’t find himself interested in her romantically. Which is why he wasn’t exactly heartbroken when she had broken up with him. In fact, he remembered feeling almost relieved, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
Before he could even open his mouth to protest, Richie had appeared from seemingly nowhere and wrapped a lanky arm around his shoulders, steering Eddie towards where the group of teenagers were forming.
“Stop looking so worried Eds! It’s only kissing!” Richie had laughed, practically pushing Eddie to the floor before taking a spot next to him. Eddie hoped that Richie hadn’t seen the red tinge on his cheeks, but if Richie had saw it, he didn’t say anything. The way Richie had talked about kissing so casually, as if it were child’s play, had made Eddie keep his mouth firmly closed, as he didn’t want to admit he had little to no experience kissing.
He wasn’t expecting some sort of magical fairy tale first kiss, but he was at least hoping that he would actually get to choose who it was going to be with. Any hope of getting out of playing was long gone, so all he could do was cross his fingers tightly and silently pray that the bottle never landed on him.
For a while, he had naively believed that his prayers were being answered. Half hour into the game, nothing had happened. A few people had gotten bored and wandered off to get a drink and chat amongst themselves, and Eddie had been debating on joining them, but Richie had gotten a tight clutch on his hand, as if to silently say “you’re not going anywhere.”
During that first half an hour, Eddie watched on as the bottle had landed on Beverly, Mike and Bill. Each had had to kiss people that Eddie could no longer remember the name of, but he had remembered the way they leaned straight into it without hesitation, not really seeming bothered by having to kiss strangers. Eddie had envied them, wishing that he could careless too.
He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had even realised the bottle had landed on him, and he was pulled back into reality by Richie harshly digging his elbow into his side. He turned to glare at Richie but his expression quickly turned to horror when he looked down to realise where the bottle was pointing.
Panic clawed at his chest as he frantically looked around the circle to see who he would be kissing. He had hoped for a sweet girl who hopefully had little to no experience like he had, so he could quickly crawl into the middle, give her a fleeting peck and be done with it.
But oh no. The universe didn’t like Eddie Kaspbrak. It wasn’t a nice, quiet girl who had as much interest in kissing Eddie that Eddie did in kissing her. It wasn’t even a girl. Looking back at Eddie with the same expression of horror was a boy called Marc Davies, from his English class. Eddie felt his face pale and his heart sunk right into the pit of his stomach. 
His first proper kiss was going to be with a boy?
author’s note: hi everybody! this is my first Reddie fic, and I hope you enjoy it! I believe the prompt from this story comes from a post that @richietoaster created, I‘m not 100% sure though so I apologise if I’m wrong! 
Tag list: @temptedtozier @smol-and-annoying (I know you didn’t ask for a tag but you wanted me to do it so I thought you should see it) @loving-teenage-fandoms
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beepbeeprichiellc · 6 years
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Pink Lemonade
Summary: Richie Tozier finds himself in a sticky situation and is forced to hide in a closet for safety. He wasn’t expecting to find the space already occupied, and he defiantly wasn’t expecting to enjoy the company so much
A/N: *Warnings: Mention of Sex, and Loss of Virginity.* How in the hell is this fiction still going. I mean it just keeps on going and I don't want it to be too long but God, I just love it. Next chapter, whenever I get to writing it, will be a bit more angst. Angry Riche, hurt Eddie and pissed off Stan. Not what you think though.
Word Count: 2221
Masterlist
Part: (1) (2) (3) 4 (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)
The first thing that Richie noticed was the smell. Fresh linen laced with lavender washed over him, practically coating him in the heavenly scent. He could feel himself melting into it, wishing that he could swim in the aroma forever. This wasn’t his own sheets, his mother refused to wash his, and yet the he could almost place the scent, almost.
The second thing Richie noticed was the sunlight that shined onto his face. He rolled over, trying to block it out but it followed him. He willed himself to ignore it, to resume his slumber but his eyes opened themselves anyways.
The third, and final thing Richie noticed was that he had no fucking idea where he was. The room was neat, everything in its place. There were no clothes on the floor, no trash anywhere in sight and he couldn’t find a speck of dust on the nightstand. This was nothing like his bedroom at home and he suddenly became worried about the night before.
Richie attempted to rise from the bed, immediately meeting the headache that swelled in his skull. There was a slew of curse words as he dropped back into the mattress. He was hung over, that much was for sure.
“Look who decided to wake up.” A sarcastic sneer came from the threshold. The trashmouth shifted his head, noticing Eddie only in boxers and a night shirt.  “It took you long enough.” He yawned, passing by Richie, muttering something under his breath as he rummaged through his dresser drawer.
“Where the fuck am I?” He asked, trying to tune out the loud shuffling of the clothes. Eddie closed the drawer loudly causing Richie to wince. “And do you mind? I have a killer hangover, be a little quitter, fuck.”
“Okay.” Eddie hissed, moving to his closet. “One, you’re at my house and two fuck you. You’re at my house Tozier, I can do whatever I want.” He removed what looked like a pair of jeans before slamming the closet door shut.
“Shit!” Richie exclaimed, covering his ears. “How did I even end up here?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Eddie asked, pulling the jeans over his boxer shorts.
“I remember talking to you at the hay barrels, then I remember falling and-“He paused, looking over to the smaller boy who had taken his shirt off before replacing it with a fresh one. His body was tiny, almost all of his ribs and shoulder poking out of his skin, reminding Richie of a Halloween skeleton. The trashmouth wondered if he would break in bed. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips, “And did I puke on your shoes?”
Eddie cringed. “Yeah, you did. You also puked in the car, the sidewalk and on my favorite hoodie so thanks for that.”
“Man, what a party foul.” Richie joked, chuckling lightly.
“Yeah hilarious.”
“Okay so how did I end up at your place?” The trashmouth asked, suddenly aware of his almost nudity. “And how did I end up in only boxers.”
“Well after you fell off the barrel, highlight of my night by the way, I took you to Beverly. She told me she couldn’t take care of you because she was already chasing down a drunken Mike, Ben was helping. Apparently the football team had stripped and were seeing who could streak closest to the fire.” Eddie shook his head, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Richie couldn’t help but imagine Mike, fully moon, trying to jump the bonfire with Bev and Ben rushing after him. He smirked as Eddie continued. “Stan wanted nothing to do with you, shocker there, and Bill was Stan’s ride. So lucky me, I was stuck with your dumb ass.”
“So you took me here?”
Eddies shrugged, “Where else was I supposed to take you? I have no idea where you live and I had to drive your truck, which is a piece of shit.” 
“I bet your parents are pissed.” Richie joked, rubbing his head and reaching for his glasses from the bed stand.
“Dad’s dead, Mom’s out of town.” He replied matter-of-factly.
“Huh.” Richie retorted, “And you just undressed me for fun or?”
He could see the blush that spared across Eddie’s face, his gaze dropping to the floor. “No. You were fucking filthy so before you were totally gone, I had you strip and I washed your clothes.”
“Uh huh.” Richie mused, a shit eating grin crossing his face, “If you wanted me naked in your bed Eds, all you had to do was ask.” He leaned over, running his hands down Eddie’s back causing him to jump up in surprise. “Purrrrrr.”
“Oh fuck off trashmouth.” Eddie hissed, standing from the bed in a huff. “I should have just left you out there with the rest of those idiots.”
“Oh calm down princess, it was a joke.”
“You’re impossible.” He hissed, walking out of the bedroom. Richie could hear him storm down the steps, hopefully going to grab his washed clothes. The lanky boy rose form the bed, feeling the dull throb of his brain but ignoring it. Lazily he walked around the room, taking the odd cleanliness. His hands ran themselves across his dresser, accumulating little dust. Richie smirked, unable to stop the bubble of emotion that began its way up his throat.
God, Eddie was such a dork.
His eyes caught the picture frame that was pushed back to the back of the dresser, practically hidden by Eddie’s book bag. Richie pulled the photo closer, immediately noticing his small friend. It must have been years ago, the Eddie that was in the picture no older than five or six. He was holding an enormous baseball bat that had to be more than twice his size. Behind the child was a man, his face fixated on Eddie’s hand placement, a genuine smile spread across his face. Slowly, Richie traced the small boy’s face, feeling his heart swell at his adorable, overzealous smirk.
“That’s my Dad.” The trashmouth jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice, nearly dropping the picture. He fumbled slightly, managing to recover not so smoothly. The other boy only smiled, placing the clean clothes on the bed. “That was taken a week before he was diagnosed.”
“Diagnosed?”
“Cancer.” Eddie replied, his voice void of emotion. “He died less than a year later.”
“Oh I’m sor-“
“It’s fine.” He replied, shrugging off the entire situation. “That was a long time ago.” They stood there from a minute, Eddie’s eyes down casted, brows furrowed as if deep in thought. Richie debated whether or not to say anything, his stomach twisting painfully, but it passed as the small boy spoke up. “Your clothes are washed so hurry up and get dressed.”
“Can’t take all of this sexiness?” Richie joked, making a rather crude motion with his hips.
Eddie cringed, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “No, I want you out of my house. It’s bad enough you contaminated my sheets. Who knows what sexually transmitted disease you’re carrying.”
“Nothing that your mother doesn’t already have, I made sure of that.” He retorted, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head, his voice muffled by the fabric. “You’re okay with herpes right Eds?”
His host rolled his eyes, snorting as he turned to leave out the room. “You really need to stop calling me that.”
Richie smiled, shaking his head. He stumbled somewhat, trying to follow his friend and put on his pants on at the same time. He stopped at the top of the stairs, buttoning up his jeans. “You fucking love it Eds.” He cooed at the boy descending down the staircase. Eddie only flipped him off in response.
The trashmouth hurried down the stairs, eager to catch up. He hopped the last two steps, landing loudly on the hardwood floor. There was a smirk on his face when Eddie picked up his shoes and keys from the coffee table. “Here.” He bit, shoving the items into Richie’s hands. “That’s everything.”
“Awe, you’re too good for me.”
Eddie rolled his eyes at the sentiment, walking into the kitchen. Richie looked at the door as he pulled his shoes on, feeling his chest tighten. He knew he should go, he had already burdened his friend with his drunken self and he knew that was a handful, but he didn’t really want to leave. At least not alone. “Hey Eds?” He yelled, not moving in either direction.
“What?” He replied, practically groaning.
Richie grinned, “How about I take you out to breakfast, I kinda owe you for last night.”
Eddie appeared, scrunching up his face. “It’s noon Rich. You’ve slept all morning.”
“Okay lunch then.”
“I don’t know.” His host started, fidgeting with his fingers. “I’ve got to clean those sheets and-“
“Oh come on, it’ll be like an hour, two tops.” He could practically see the wheels in Eddie’s head turning. Richie bit his lip, waiting for an answer that seemed to take forever to come. He jingled his keys nervously and Eddie sighed.
“Fine.”
The diner was small and smelled of hotdogs for whatever reason. Richie guided Eddie to a booth near the back where a prissy teenager took their order. The trashmouth talked mostly, filling the air with his nonsense. He was relatively surprised when Eddie responded to his babble, actually putting his input into the one sided conversation. The whole thing was comfortable, their interaction with one another light and placid. There were a few jokes thrown around between them but it was all in good fun and Richie couldn’t help appreciate the sense of calm that Eddie brought out in him without even trying.  
Soon though the small kid grew quiet, his gaze settled on something out the window. Richie noticed, instantly felt his body tense. “Got something on your mind Eds?” He asked, shifting his weight in his seat.
“Can I ask you something?”
Richie was taken aback by the question, the seriousness in his voice forcing the trashmouth’s stomach churn. “Sure.”
“It’s kind of serious.” He replied meeting his friends gaze. “I don’t want you to make one of your dumb ass jokes about it.”
“I will try my best.” Richie replied, putting his burger down and whipping the mustered from his mouth. “Shoot.”
Eddie paused, his eyes darting between the trashmouth and what remained of his food. “How do you know when you’re ready for sex?”
Richie nearly choked, he could feel his face become red with embarrassment. His mind fought to respond but his fat mouth beat him to it. “Well you see, when you get aroused your penis gets hard and then you stick it in-“
“Forget it.” Eddie hissed, “I knew I shouldn’t have asked you.”
“Whoa hey, look I’m sorry I didn’t mean that.” Richie managed as Eddie slid out of the booth, shaking his head and huffing in disgust. “You just took me by surprise.”
“Thanks for lunch.” He replied coldly, tossing his napkin onto the table.
“Come on Eds.” Richie pleaded, feeling his heart pound against his chest. “It was a joke.”
“It’s always a joke.”
“Eddie.” But his friend ignored him, turning to leave the quaint diner. Richie reacted, grabbing hold of his forearm. “Please, just sit back down. I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re just going to make fun of me.”
“I promise I won’t” The trashmouth pleaded. Eddie glared at him, unmoving. “I’m sorry.”
Slowly, Eddie sat back down on his side of the booth. Richie watched as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, grimacing every so often. Richie took in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. When he exhaled, he could feel the air become thick with their unspoken anxieties. “I um-“ He started, adjusting the glasses on his face. “I lost my virginity when I was fifteen. It was with Betty Ripson, on the couch in her basement.”
“I thought you were-“
“Bisexual.” Richie finished, shrugging. “I like them both. Anyways, I didn’t know if I was ready. It was her first time too so we were both clumsy and awkward and it was absolutely horrible.” He chuckled, the memory of his adolescence nipping at his brain. “Look, I’m not sure if I’m the person you want to have this conversation with. I don’t have the best reputation when it comes to knocking boots, and we’ve already covered that we both have different views on love vs sex.”
“I feel like a prune.” Eddie confessed, “I mean there’s this guy that I like and I don’t know, I’m worried that the lack of sex would drive him away.”
Richie stomach knotted painfully. He could feel his own jealousy claw at his chest but he swallowed, forcing down the ugly emotion. “You should never feel pressured Eds. If you want to wait till you love someone to have sex then do it. It’s your body, your decision and you should never do something that you aren’t comfortable with.”
Eddie smiled, his face blushing at the out of character speech. “Thanks Rich. That was actually-“He paused shaking his head, “Nice.”
“Hey I can be all gushy if I want to.” He replied, winking at his friend. “Just call me the love expert.”
“Yeah I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Good choice.”
Tags: @decaffeinatedpostmoon
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eddiesgazebos · 6 years
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INSEPARABLE (REDDIE) 7/12
They say you should never date a good friend. Why? Because if your relationship ends badly, you will more than likely lose that good friend. Richie and his best friend Eddie took that risk when they became an official couple. But what happens when sudden change erupts into their relationship? The two who would travel to the ends of the world for each other are put up to the test. Unfortunately, Eddie knew there was no such thing as fairy tales…Right? 
Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12
"You're not leaving me" Eddie shouted. His voice was so loud that everybody in the cafeteria had gone silent. Richie's eyes widened as he looked around the room. "Who the fuck do your parents think they are?!" Richie quickly moved his own hand over Eddie's mouth. If he had been anybody else in the world, Eddie would drop with an asthma attack. Luckily though, Richie's germs were the only germs that Eddie actually enjoyed. Eddie's eyebrows lowered as he glared at Richie.
"Do you want the attention all on us, dear?" Richie muttered under uncomfortable laughs. Eddie shoved Richie's hand away and shook his head.
"You can't leave me, Richie" Eddie's voice has quieted and his eyes were filling with tears. Richie felt his chest tighten.
"I can't really change it, Eds" Richie reached his hand out to cup Eddie's cheek but Eddie shoved his hand away.
"Well figure out a damn way!" Eddie's glare only worsened and Richie's chest only continued to tighten. A painful lump filled Richie's throat and the tears stung his eyes.
"Don't you think I would if I could?" Richie frowned. "Eds, I don't want to go"
"Then fucking stay"
"Eddie" they stared at each other for a few seconds before Eddie shook his head and backed up.
"Fuck this" Eddie mumbled as he turned his back to Richie. Richie reached forward to grab his arm but pulled his hand back once Eddie pulled free roughly. He wanted to chase after him but a hand settling on his shoulder kept him back.
"Let him go" Beverly spoke gently. Richie watched Eddie push his way out of the cafeteria. His eyes stung, his heart hurt, and his stomach was twisted. Once Eddie was out of sight, Richie turned to Beverly and pulled her into a tight hug to hide his tears. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her hand up and down his back. "Shh, it'll be alright. He just needs to blow off steam"
"I don't want to leave him, Bev" Richie cried against her shoulder while she held him in a firm embrace.
"I know. He knows" as her words fell silent, the bell rang for lunch to end and classes to start back up. Richie tensed at the sound and Beverly sighed softly. "Come on, lets skip class"
"What?" Richie lifted his head to look at Beverly. His eyes were swollen and red while the rest of his face was as flushed as a ghost.
"You heard me" Beverly moved her hand into Richie's and tugged him toward the doors. She waved goodbye to their friends then dragged him out into the halls. She walked around the school until they found the side doors that were mainly there for emergencies and for the staff to take smoke breaks. She shoved the door open and lead the way outside.
As soon as they were outside, they walked off toward the wooded area. They took the path that led to the outer roads of Derry and walked slower as they were out of sight from the school. Richie stayed silent and stared down at his hands. Beverly had taken a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and placed one between her lips. She fished out her lighter and lit the cancer stick. Richie looked up at her once the strong smell awakened his numbing senses.
"Want one?" Beverly asked while only moving half of her mouth. She used the other side of her lips to hold her cigarette still between her lips while her hands were heading for her pocket. Richie shook his head no.
"Eddie would kill me before those would" he sighed. Beverly nodded and put the pack and lighter away. She took the cigarette away from her lips and held it between her fingers.
"He'll calm down soon enough" she reached her hand over to squeeze his shoulder. "Promise"
"Before or after I'm gone?" Richie pushed up his glasses and kicked a fallen branch out of the way as he walked.
"Before. He won't let you leave on bad terms"
"It'll be bad either way. Either he's angry or depressed and it's all my fault"
"You don't have control over what your parents decide for you. Telephones exist, Richie. Long-distance relationships do happen"
"I can't fucking hold him over a phone. I can't kiss his cute face or pick him up and carry him. What if I never get to kiss him again, Bev?"
"Eighteen isn't all that far away"
"By then, he could find another boy who's actually here for him" they both sighed and Beverly shook her head.
"He'd never leave you"
Eddie sat in the back of his class with his head held low. His mind felt like shattered glass while his body felt like it was on fire but numb at the same time. His painfilled eyes stared blankly at the teacher. He knew she was talking but words weren't registering in his brain. He didn't feel real, nothing felt real.
His eyes caught movement around the room as the other students opened their binders. He followed along without knowing what exactly it was that he was doing. His throat tightened when his eyes fell on the polaroid photo of him and Richie that he had taped there when school started. Tears threatened to escape from his eyes and he quickly blinked to battle them back.
He shook his head and closed the binder back up. He turned in his seat and pushed everything into his backpack. He felt eyes watching him but he was too numb to care. He zipped up his bag, stood up, and headed for the door.
"Eddie, where are you going?" The teacher's voice was barely noticeable. Eddie ignored her and continued on out the door. "Eddie get back here!" His footsteps were slow at first but as he turned the corner down the hall, they gradually got quicker and quicker until he reached the front doors. He pushed his way through the large glass doors and ignored the lady at the front desk calling out for him. He made it a few feet outside then dropped to his knees. The tears spilled over and poured down his cheeks. His throat clenched as a soft painful sound made its way up his throat and free from his lips. He dug his short nails into the palms of his hands as he hunched forward.
"He can't leave" he whimpered to himself with heavy unsteady breathing to follow. His hands fumbled with his fanny pack to get his inhaler out and use it.
Richie and Beverly sat on a fallen tree trunk. They sat in mostly silence with just the sound of chirping birds and soft saddened exhales. Richie stared at the ground, hunched over so that his elbows could rest against his thighs. He held his head in his hands and tried to slow down his brain.
"What if I run away?" He mumbled. His lanky body rocked slightly back and forth. "What if I just hide away until my parents either leave or decide to stay?" Beverly stayed silent. They both knew how stupid the ideas were. "I could live in Eddie's closet. His mom wouldn't even have to know" Richie ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. He lifted his head to stare ahead into the trees. "Or, maybe I could live with Stan. Yeah, his home life would take getting used to but I'd be alright"
"Richie" Beverly sighed. She moved her hand to his back.
"I know, Beverly!" He snapped then stared down at the ground. His cheeks were stained with tears and his glasses were hard to see through. "I just-.." he shook his head.
"Come on, let's go get some ice cream. I'll pay" Beverly stood up and dusted off the back of her jeans.
"I'm not hungry" Richie mumbled but Beverly pulled him up from the trunk anyway.
"Well, I am" she grabbed his hand and tugged him down the rest of the path. They walked deeper into town and to the local ice cream shop. Even though he wasn't hungry, Beverly bought two cones of ice cream. They sat down at a nearby picnic table. Beverly licked away at her ice cream while Richie stared at his own. "Eat it" Beverly lightly nudged his leg with her foot underneath the table. Richie sighed and gave it a few licks. It only took the sweet taste to hit his tongue before he was interested in the ice cream at all and started to genuinely eat it.
Time flew by after that. They watched as buses drove by along with the kids who walked home to pass. They watched for their group to pass. When Beverly noticed them, she stood up and ran over to meet up with them. Bill, Stan, Mike, and Ben all looked at Beverly and then over at Richie who had laid down on the seat to the picnic table.
"How's he doing?" Mike asked with a slight frown. Beverly sighed and shook her head.
"Well, not great but he could be worse. Where's Eddie?" She looked around at each of the boys.
"We haven't seen him" Ben frowned. "We thought maybe he was with you two working this out"
"We ditched earlier, Eddie would have never agreed to that" Beverly crossed her arms over her chest. "Did he go straight home or something?"
"We wouldn't know. We haven't seen him" Stan replied as he walked around Beverly and over toward Richie to comfort him. Beverly sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.
"I'll suh-stop by his house and see if he's ho-home" Bill muttered.
"I'll go with him" Mike wrapped his arm around Bill's shoulders.
"I'll stay here with you, Bev" Ben took a few steps to stand by Beverly's side. She gently rested her arm over his shoulder and nodded.
"Okay, let me know if you guys find him" Beverly looked at Bill and then at Mike. They nodded and walked off. Beverly and Ben walked over to the picnic table and sat together. Stan had sat on the bench with Richie and let him rest his head on his thigh. Stan gently played with Richie's hair while Richie stared off at nothing. The small group fell silent.
Bill and Mike walked down Eddie's street side by side. Worry filled their faces and their fidgeting fingers only played along with it.
"I hope he's alright" Mike sighed softly.
"M-Me too" Bill stared up ahead at the Kaspbrak home. They walked up to the front door and Bill knocked. After a few minutes, the door opened and Sonia stared down at them. "Hi, w-we were just wondering if Eh-Eddie is here?"
"He hasn't come home yet" Sonia shifted her weight from foot to foot slowly. She held onto the door and stared at the two boys. "He didn't walk with you?" Bill shook his head no. "Oh no, my Eddie shouldn't be out walking around town by himself!"
"Don't worry, Mrs. Kaspbrak. We'll find him" Mike carefully pulled on Bill's arm to back away from the house.
"You make sure he comes straight home!" Sonia's voice had heightened and both boys just wanted to get out of there.
"You ha-have our word" Bill called out as they rushed away from the house. They only stopped when they were out of sight. They exchanged worry glances then looked around. "Wuh-Where would he be?"
"Guess we'll have to go searching" Mike patted Bill's shoulder then led the way back to the ice cream shop to gather up the rest of the group.
tag list: @magickandmoons  @lollipopbev @eds2fannypacks  @delirious-trash @honeybunass @eddies-inhaler @cassiejaydee  @aestheticastrology @just-an-akward-fangirl @satanxsbaby @lovelyysketchh @smiley-riley-pokipin @spooky-risley @buttercup-irwin @thatgazebobullshit @reddie4love @lolrichie @prettyblossoms @serendipity-y @edward-kasprak  @ohheydatsme
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Mens et Manus
Chapter 2. Changes
Pairing: Richie Tozier & Betty Ripsom (platonic) Rating: T Warnings for this chapter: Underage drinking; past violence; emotional scars;  emotional abuse; mental health issues; referenced character death Chapters: [1], 2, [3], [4], [5], [6], [7] Ao3: [x] Summary:
Stan looks at himself in the mirror; Richie talks to his mom; Mike starts listening; Ben finds a new hobby; Eddie moves out of his mom's house; Beverly starts dating; and Bill writes his first book.
a.k.a a series of short stories based on the prompt "Tell the story of a scar"
A/N: The chapters are as listed above. This is Richie’s chapter:
If you were to ask Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier if demons or ghosts were worse, he would tell you the answer was ghosts, hands down. No question. How does he know? He had once battled a demon. It was a surprisingly easy thing to do. He’d taken a Louisville Slugger and popped one right in It’s ugly, ugly kisser.
But the ghosts of Derry didn’t have physical bodies to destroy. They were untouchable. He’d once wondered if the ghosts were somehow Pennywise, but Stan and Mike never saw them. They existed in his brain, and unless he planned on destroying that, they weren’t going away anytime soon. They stood on every corner smoking stolen cigarettes, or passed him on the street, only a breeze as they sped by on their bikes. They were armless, legless, and glaring at him from every blue Trans Am. They were focused on Richie, blaming him, as they begged him to answer one simple question:
Why did you survive?
He didn’t know. He ran it by the Big Man every Sunday morning mass, and even Wednesday evening. He even asked it a few times on his knees beside his bed, hoping a more private conversation would lure out the truth. But either God was shy or had nothing to say, because after five years, Richie still didn’t have an answer.
Betty Ripsom’s torso hung around as he turned and pulled down the metal door, locking up Freese’s Department Store for the night. She never said much; she mostly stared. Today, she was crying. He hopped in his yellow Toyota, and just sat for a moment. He hoped to feel some kind of sense of relief that his day was over. He didn’t. He felt just the same as he had that morning. So he turned on the radio, lit a cigarette, and sat back to listen to David Bowie lament over changes while Betty appeared in the passenger seat.
Time had changed them all. Between the three remaining Loser’s, he was the only who actually looked like he’d grown any. Mike and Stan were taller and broader, but otherwise looked exactly the same as they did. Of course, as much as they didn’t change physically, they were definitely touched by their experiences. They didn’t know how to let it go, dwelled on it, and adopted obsessions over it; while Richie had a weekly schedule, a budget, and an actual job.
Somehow, in the twists and folds of time, he was everything he thought they’d be at his age, and they were everything he expected for himself.
“Life is full of chucks like that sometimes. Ain’t it, Betty?” Richie asked. Betty only sobbed.
Richie dwelled on that for a moment. And then he drove. He grabbed some Moo Goo Gai Pan and Orange Chicken for dinner from the new Chinese food place, and then headed home. He grabbed the mail, and kicked the door shut. Betty was already inside, making the living room cold.
“Mom, I’m home!” Richie yelled across the quiet little four-bedroom home. His parents had bought it hoping to fill it up with daughters, laughter, and merriment. Then, Richie came out crooked, and the doctors told Maggie she couldn’t carry another child. Now, he was stuck there with another type of ghost: the ones from people who never existed in the first place. “MOOOM! DINNER!”
Richie waited until he heard the bed down the hall creaking before moving to the kitchen. He unpacked the food boxes, dished up a serving for himself, and then carried the mail with him to the living room. He turned on reruns of Dallas, and chewed his food without really tasting it. Betty sat in his father’s chair. He tried to ignore her as she chattered on in his mind.
Your mom doesn’t even like you, Betty said, staring deep into Richie. He could feel her eyes boring through skin. It’s not fair that an unwanted child who is wasting his life is allowed to keep it. I was going to go to Harvard. Have you read my essays? I was going to be an award winning journalist.
He shuffled through the bills, and an advertisement for Motorola Beepers. Beep beep Richie, he thought, with a dry chuckle. His food didn’t taste very good anymore, not that it was particularly outstanding before. He set it aside, along with the ad. It didn't stay there long. He needed something to occupy his mouth when it wasn't talking.
Finally, there was the rejection letter from the University of California.
Well, he presumed it was a rejection letter, just like all the rest. It should be a rejection letter. As Betty was agreeing – you might have got good grades in high school, but that doesn’t mean you’ll survive college. But Richie remembered the look in Stan’s eyes as he went straight for that one brochure, honed in like a missile. They were wide and distant, seeing into a place Richie couldn’t even fathom.
“This is the one,” Stan had said, handing it to Richie. “This is where you’re going.”
“And leave you, dear Staniel? I think not!”
Richie hadn’t even wanted to apply to something so far away. But when he refused to even consider it, Stan sent in the application himself. He was so fucking insistent… Richie tried to swallow two lumps of chicken at the same time. After coughing them back up, he picked the letter back up from the ground where it fell, and tore it open like it was Christmas. He dropped it again in disgust after reading only one word: Congratulations! And popped the chicken back in his mouth.
Betty grimaced.
Fucking Stan, was all Richie could muster. He couldn't even make himself be angry.
The couch sank in beside him. Maggie Tozier sat two beers down on the coffee table, already opened. She slid one over to Richie. He stared at it, and then gave his mom a cheesy smile, pretending it didn't exist.
“Hey pretty lady,” Richie said to his mom. He gave her the ‘Beverly look,’ which he’d been practicing for years. A quick lick, a big smile, and his round eye falling into an easy wink, all released within milliseconds of each other. It took a surprising amount of concentration. “You come here often?”
Maggie Tozier’s giggle was short, and filled with coughing. Richie’s smile, fake to begin with, faltered. She brought her hand up to catch some spittle. Richie noted the red hue.
“How was your day?” she asked, wiping her hand on her pajama pants. She was sick all the time these days, but refused to go to the hospital. He didn’t know if she wanted to die, or assumed she was somehow immortal. He didn’t know if it mattered. The end results were the same.
Betty’s humorless laugh took over her side of the room. He could just hear her saying, oh this is great. Your mom won’t even be grieving that long! My mom has seventy more years. Seventy!
“It was fine,” Richie answered. “I saw Mike today. I didn’t get to talk to him, but, y’know… he looks healthy.”
Maggie looked at him like she knew all the answers. She nudged the bottle she’d brought for him. Richie only looked at it.
“Have a drink. You’ll feel better about it,” she said, in her infinite wisdom.
Why not have a few, live a little? Betty’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, and just a hint of sadness. I’ll never be able to.
“Yeah, I know,” Richie said, addressing both women at once. He put the letter down and picked the beer up. Maggie raised an eyebrow, and looked at the envelope.
Richie sighed and brought the beer to his lips. He took a few sips, bargaining with himself. One beer was just a beer. It wasn’t what his parents did. It wasn’t even comparable. When he set it back down on the table, his mom was lowering the letter.
“You got in?”
“They like me. Just like that sonuvabitch said they would,” Richie took another few sips of his beer. The taste was awful, but in that way where once it faded, he wanted another just to prove it really was bad.
Her eyes flicked up to his. That sad smile never left her face. She tilted her head, straightened the hem of her shirt, and took a long drink. She finished her bottle.
“Well then,” she said, her voice swelling with some kind of emotion Richie couldn’t place. He would’ve been surprised to know it was pride. “I guess this is a celebration, then. Let me go get the good stuff.”
“Mom, no—”
“Shoosh shoosh,” Maggie headed into the kitchen, yelling back at him: “My baby boy is going off to college. We’re going to get shit-faced!”
“Ah ah,” Richie yelled after her, grinning from ear to ear. He tried on a new voice he’d picked up from a coworker. He thought of them as a young, slightly homosexual poet, with the tiniest forced English lilt. In his attempt to copy them, he wound up sounding more like Patrick Hockstetter. “You’ll never get rid of me that easily.” Then, in a normal voice: “I’m not going. Maybe in a few years, but right now—”
“I swear to God, Richie, do not fuck this up,” Maggie’s voice was soft, motherly, despite the harshness of her words. It hurt all the same. “I didn’t raise you like that.”
“Yeah, actually, you did,” the words came out before Richie could stop them. He straightened his back, listening to the bones crack and pop as they moved back into place. He was pulling one of his older voices from his repertoire, trying to mask the tremble trying to take over. “Ah say, ah say, raised the biggest fuck up this side of the Kenduskeag, ya did.”
Maggie chuckled. She muttered a small agreement as she came back to the couch, and handed him a shot glass full of something amber colored and tasteless. A million words fluttered in the back of his mind, and he thought about how he wanted to say all of them.
Hey mom, I'm afraid I'll forget. Or I'm afraid It's coming back. Or even please tell me you need me, because you're all I have left.
He didn’t say any of them. Instead, he occupied his mouth by filling it with alcohol, tilting his head back as he swallowed it in one go. It shut everything up, like a liquid off switch.
The burn left him feeling centered. Maggie refilled his glass, and then clinked hers against it. They pressed their glasses against their lips, and threw their heads back at the same time.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Six shots in, Richie’s head was swimming, and he saw Betty as she’d been on that last day, before she went missing. Thirteen, her long legs in jeans and her curls looking more Farrah Fawcett than Stanley Uris; she stared down at the lower half of her body, and then curled her feet beneath her, giving Richie a quizzical glance. He looked at the shot glass, and then raised it to his eye.
Beer goggles, babe. Makes everyone look better.
Maggie poured them another shot. After it was added to the warm soup of their stomachs, she wiped her mouth. “You know, I don’t think you’ll be missed as much as you think.”
Richie inhaled sharply, and said, “Woooooow, thanks, mommy dearest.” He masked it in sarcasm, but he meant it. If he could've felt less than nothing, he would've. He realized that's how he knew he reached the bottom of his emotional well.
“It’s the truth, though, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve actually hung out with your friends? You aren’t seeing anyone, and you’ll miss me about the same as I’ll miss you. There is nothing holding you here, sweetie.”
Richie pulled out an invisible microphone. His announcer voice was the best quality overall, and easiest to fall into. “Standing in this corner, weighing one-hundred-twenty-five pounds is three-time world champion, Tuh-tuh-tuh-TRASHMOUTH  TO-JEE-ER.” He put his hands around his mouth, and hissed. It never really ever sounded like an audience cheering to him, but it was what everyone did. So he did it too.
His mother was shocked, at first, and then laughed. “And standing in this corner, weighing more than life itself, homelessness in a strange place,” Richie gestured to the acceptance letter. “I don’t know anything about California, ma. I don’t know anyone in California.”
“It’s not that hard of a decision: Maine, or California,” Maggie snorted. “If I could’ve dropped you and moved clear across America to someplace sunny, I would’ve. Imagine all those pretty young boys with their blond curls, like the beach boys.” Richie lowered his head, knowing what was coming next. “But Wentworth sure as hell wasn’t going to take care of you, and you can’t say I didn’t try. Because I tried, goddammit, and you’re going to college to pay me back for it.”
“Okay, but, money. I don’t have any.”
“I have a savings account, believe it or not, and since you’re my only heir...” she shrugged, letting Richie finish the sentence with understanding. He looked up at the ceiling, chewing his bottom lip.
“You need that—”
“The fuck I do,” she scoffed. “For what? Fixing the bathroom? I’ll let this hellhole be condemned before I invest another penny in it.”
Richie kept his head bowed. He shook the microphone once, twice, and then it was gone, replaced by a glass full of whiskey. Richie swallowed it all at once, and grimaced. It made looking his mother in the eyes easier.
“What about taking care of yourself?” Richie asked. The look she gave him took the wind from his sails. She was dead already, and she knew it. Richie felt his heart and throat tighten. Maybe he didn't like her, but she was his mom.
“Like you care,” she said, as plain as if she’d said she wanted eggs. “This place is miserable, and so are you. Let me die terrorizing a nurse on insurance while you fuck a grandchild into some bimbo who looks too good for you.” He poured the next shot, but she took it from him. “You’ve had enough of this. Find your own poison, that’s my last bit of advice. You can’t just copy your folks, or you’ll never be better than them.”
She downed the shots one after the other. The room was small, and Richie was suddenly far too big for it. He felt like if he stayed any longer, it would just crush him. He stood up. The floor lurched forward, and Richie steadied himself. He opted to leave behind the car keys, and went out through the garage door. She didn’t even ask him where he was going; he didn't even know.
Richie’s bike wobbled to and fro as the world decided tonight was the night to shake ominously. Betty walked beside him, keeping pace like it was nothing. She did a little hop, and a twirl, smiling the whole time.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had legs!” she said, her voice clear as day. “I could dance! Will you dance with me, Richie?”
Richie looked at her, and didn’t answer. They traveled together until they reached Bassey park. Richie dropped his bike in the grass, and then reached out, taking Betty’s hand. He almost felt it – warm and soft, alive. Taking her other hand, Richie leaned back and spun. The world became a dark blur, and as he howled, he heard Betty’s surprised laughter. It was melodic, therapeutic, and just plain fun to hear. He spun until he felt the Chinese food coming back up, and had to go lean over the trash. Betty was laughing so hard she was crying. She fell to the grass, her legs trembling as much as Richie’s. When he was done, he picked her back up.
Once upon a time, he’d gotten it in his head to learn the Lindy Bop. He never was good at it, missing as many steps as he hit. But he remembered how it was supposed to go. He and Betty looked like fools, but they didn’t care. They laughed, and spun, and kicked their gangly legs to a beat only they could hear. It was easy to forget his worries in that moment,and pretend he was a normal kid, dancing with a gal in the moonlight.
When it was over, Betty was glowing, and Richie was breathless.
“Alright Trashmouth, I’ve gotta go. I guess I won’t be seeing you around anymore,” she said, sounding a little sad.
“Aw, you could always go haunt Mike. I think he’d like that,” Richie said, feeling more than a little woozy. “Hey, hey, before you go, ask me that question. I have an answer for you assholes.”
Betty didn’t need to clarify what question he meant. With a little more humor and grace than usual, Betty asked him: “Why did you survive, Trashmouth, when so many others died?” She said that last word hard, clicking her tongue when she was done.
“Well, you see, God hates me,” Richie flashed her a winning smile. It stretched his face painfully, and showed off the stains forming on the teeth in the side of the mouth he favored when smoking. “So he didn’t want me up there with him. I just won’t shut up, and you know, he has so many people to listen to. So even though nobody wants me down here either, not even my fuckin’ mother, he’s got the last word. So I’m practically immortal!”
Richie took a bow. Of all the things he expected, sympathy wasn’t it. Betty gave his hand a little squeeze, leaving him feeling just a little better. She started to walk away.
“We should do this again!” He yelled after her. They both laughed then. “I’m free next Friday! Or any day, really.” He put his hands on his hips. “Oh, except for Saturday two weeks from now… I’ll be packing then. I’m going to California! Can you believe it? California! Maybe I’ll meet Kevin Bacon and get him to sign my dick. I heard he’s into that.”
Betty clapped, and gave him a little yay. She twirled one final time, and then walked away. As soon as Richie blinked, she was gone. He didn’t cry, even though he felt the tears building up. Instead, he sat and thought of all of them: Betty Ripsom, the future journalist; Eddie Corcoran, who was going to work on movies; Veronica Grogan, who could’ve been a model; Gard Jagermeyer and Moose Sadler, who were dumb as bricks but harmless overall; Peter Gordon, set to run his father’s business; Steven Johnson, just a sweet lad; and Georgie Denbrough, who deserved to grow up. He even mentally poured one out for Victor Criss and Belch Huggins, who died trying to stop Henry, becoming heroes in the end.
Richie stared into the Kenduskeag. He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit them up one by one. Once the pack was gone, Richie told himself, he wasn’t going to get another. He owed it to every single one of those names to be better. He was going to live, and going to go to college in California, and eventually, one day, make television history by becoming the best damn ventriloquist the world ever saw.
His hands were shaking as he crumbled up the empty pack. Richie picked up his bike, and started his trek back home. After a few blocks, Richie was whistling, feeling, for once, excited about the future.
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