Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12501040.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      IT_(2017)
  Relationship:
      Eddie_Kaspbrak/Richie_Tozier, Ben_Hanscom/Beverly_Marsh, Bill_Denbrough/
      Stanley_Uris
  Character:
      Richie_Tozier, Eddie_Kaspbrak, Beverly_Marsh, Bill_Denbrough, Stanley
      Uris, Ben_Hanscom, Mike_Hanlon, OCs, Henry_Bowers's_Gang_(IT)
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Drinking, Underage_Drug_Use, Underage_Sex, Richie_is_a_junkie
      and_party_boy, He's_a_lost_soul, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting,
      Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, NSFW, slightly_slightly_slightly
      inspired_by_the_2003_movie_'thirteen', Pining, Slow_Burn, or_as_slow_as_I
      can_manage_it, Aged-Up_Character(s), Bisexual!Richie, no_pennywise
      because_fuck_that_guy, georgie_is_still_alive_btw, pop_culture
      references, Angst, Lots_of_Angst, also_slightly_inspired_by_'skins_uk',
      Child_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-26 Updated: 2017-11-20 Chapters: 15/? Words: 63141
****** The Sun Sets In Your Direction ******
by addielouwho
Summary
     It's been four years since Richie inexplicably began to distance
     himself from the rest of the Losers Club and started doing things
     he'd never thought he'd do. He doesn't know it, but he's lost.
     Maybe Eddie can find him and help heal the wounds that have begun to
     fester on his soul...
Notes
     So, first of all, this is really just something for fun I'm writing
     on my own time so idk if the updates will be frequent or not because
     I got a main story for Game of Thrones that I'm writing like crazy
     and that's where most of my focus will be but fear not because I AM
     invested in this story and I'm curious as to where it will head
     Second of all, there is explicit drug use and sex in this story,
     mostly coming from Richie. As it says in the summary, he is a lost
     soul and most definitely needs help, now whether he will accept the
     help or not is a different story...
     But they are aged up in this story, seventeen years of age. I know
     that's still young but it'd be unrealistic to say that teenagers that
     age don't get up to stuff like this
See the end of the work for more notes
***** and there's nothing wrong with me, this how i'm supposed to be *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Richie wrapped his lips around the nozzle of the computer duster, sitting
Indian-style in his room on his black comforter with badass red patterns with
his friend Sammy sitting opposite him. He pressed the button that let out the
compressed “air” from the bottle and sucked it in, feeling the chemicals rush
to his brain.
 
He was immediately overcome with euphoria, spreading like roots through his
brain, down his chest, and to the tips of his fingers and toes. He felt his
face go numb and he smiled, letting go of the canister, and handing it over to
Sammy before leaning his back against his headboard, giggles escaping his
mouth.
 
He watched through the thick lenses of his glasses with wild eyes as Sammy took
a hit off the canister, and he burst into laughter at the look on his face when
the chemicals hit him. Sammy sputtered over the canister and burst out laughing
too, releasing the canister where it fell on the bed.
 
“I love this stuff, man!” crowed Sammy, running his hands through his short,
sandy locks. His eyes were a hazy green and lidded heavily. He had pouty lips
that Richie had kissed on occasion, but only for fun really, and usually when
they were  very  high.
 
“It’s the best medicine,” Richie agreed, touching his face under his Buddy
Holly-like glasses, delighting in the fact that his face was totally numb from
the inhalant.
 
He picked it up again and took another hit, his head swimming from the high. “I
can’t feel anything, this is  so  awesome!” he said, laughing.
 
Sammy laughed. “My face is completely numb!”
 
Richie suddenly got an idea brimming under his skin, his want for violence
tingling. “Hit me,” he commanded Sammy. At Sammy’s confused look, he said, “I’m
serious, hit me!”
 
Sammy reeled his hand back and popped Richie hard across the face, sending his
head snapping sideways. It should have hurt, stung in some way, but he felt
nothing. Richie just laughed harder and Sammy demanded that Richie hit him too.
 
Richie slapped him hard across the face and they both fell into raucous
laughter, not feeling a thing. They passed the air canister back and forth a
few more times until they were completely gone, falling over the bed and just
laying there, blissed out.
 
Eventually, however, the effects wore off, as they were wont to do. The one
thing Richie hated about the air canisters is that the effects wore off too
quickly and you had to buy more. Richie had already used his money to buy two
cartons of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka (the lady behind the counter never
carded him,  score !), along with some groceries because there was no way his
parents would remember, so he had to wait until he got paid again at his dead-
end job at the gas station.
 
“Hey,” Sammy sat up, blinking a bit as his head went fuzzy for a second, “you
want to go to the park and smoke some weed and get drunk?”
 
“I don’t got any weed,” said Richie, sitting up as well, his own head swimming.
 
“I do,” said Sammy, patting his backpack that sat on the floor. “I can text Tom
and he’ll bring the gum.”
 
“Coolness,” said Richie. “Tell Tom I’ll suck his dick for a few pieces of that
gum for free.”
 
“Knowing Tom, he’ll take you up on that offer,” Sammy laughed, pulling out his
phone and beginning to text.
 
Richie shrugged. “I know,” he said.
 
“Dude, you are so gay.”
 
“I prefer the term bisexual.”
 
“Okay, I text him,” said Sammy, his phone lighting up immediately to tell him
Tom’s response. “He said he’ll meet us there with the gum, and for you to get
ready to suck his dick.”
 
“Great!” Richie stood up and pulled the bottle of vodka out from behind his bed
and stuck it in his backpack before traipsing downstairs and grabbing red solo
cups and sticking them in the backpack as well as a full bottle of Cranberry
juice from the fridge. His house was a mess, had long since fallen into
disrepair since his Mom was a raging drunk and his Dad was never home, and
Richie honestly didn’t give too much of a fuck to try and clean the house more
than a little, but it still bothered him a little to see that even the state of
his house wasn’t normal.  Nothing  about his life was normal, and that was the
mess of it.
 
Sammy was waiting for him by the door and they walked out together, Richie
having enough foresight to lock the door behind him. He knew his parents
wouldn’t be home for a day or two. His asshole Dad was on business, while his
Mother was out on another bender, which Richie supposed that was what he was
about to do that Friday night. He wondered idly if he was becoming just like
his parents, then shook the bad thought away as if clearing a fog from his
mind. No way was he becoming like them.
 
No way.
 
That’d be Richie’s worst nightmare come true.
 
They walked into town, ignoring the looks they got from the townsfolk. They
were considered the punks of the town, but not like the Bower’s gang, who were
just mean, psychotic bullies. Richie and his friends were a lot of things, but
they weren’t bullies. Richie would never allow that to happen to himself no
matter how bad he got. He and his friends didn’t even associate with Bowers and
his gang, despite their threats for some good stuff only Richie and his friends
sold. But they didn’t budge. Bowers could find his drugs somewhere else, the
prick.
 
They spotted Tom sitting on a park bench, smoking a cigarette. He had styled
black hair and wore a leather jacket. Richie owned one just like it, for he and
Tom had raided a thrift store together and found matching jackets. They were
high as fuck when they bought them, but Richie never regretted it. He wore it
all the time.
 
Right now though he wore a faded Nirvana t-shirt and a denim jacket covered in
buttons with torn up jeans and ratty Converse. Fall was settling in Derry,
Maine and it was starting to get cold outside. It felt like a good 53 degrees
outside and Richie found himself wishing he’d put on a hoodie as well, but he
knew the alcohol and the gum would warm him up soon enough.
 
“Heyyyyy Tommy boy!” Richie yelled, gaining Tom’s attention.
 
“Don’t call me that, asshole!” Tom yelled as he turned around on the bench. He
squinted at them through the encroaching darkness. “Why the fuck are your
cheeks red?”
 
Richie and Sammy exchanged a look. “We bitch slapped the shit out of each
other,” Richie said, shrugging.
 
Tom shook his head, used to their antics. He reached into his jean pocket and
pulled out two foil-wrapped sticks of gum. “Here you go, shitheads. Go crazy.”
 
“You need me to suck your dick, Tommy?” Richie batted his lashes under his
glasses as he took the stick of gum.
 
Tom leered at him but pulled away in the last second. “I’ll come over to your
house later tonight, yeah?”
 
Richie winked at him before sitting down on the bench next to him and pulling
out the vodka and cranberry. “You want?” He shook the vodka bottle as Sammy sat
on the other side of Tom.
 
Tom put out his cigarette in the ground underneath his combat boot before
saying, “Hell yeah!” He made grabby hands at the vodka which Richie handed over
after pouring a considerable amount in his red solo cup and mixing it with the
cranberry juice.
 
He took a large gulp, letting the vodka burn down his throat but to his credit
he didn’t grimace. He heard footsteps from behind him and then felt hands on
shoulders. “Hey Loser,” said a girl voice from behind.
 
Richie jerked around, a huge smile on his face. “Why, if it isn’t Beverly
Marsh!” She was smiling widely at him, her red hair grown out, curling past her
shoulders in amber waves. She was really the only one of the Losers club he
talked to nowadays. They had all kind of just grew apart after the summer of
‘13. They didn’t even talk anymore, especially the others to Richie, they
didn’t approve of his activities, except for Bev. Sometimes she joined in, like
now.
 
“Got a smoke?” She asked, twirling her pale freckled fingers around.
 
“Sure,” said Richie, reaching into his jean pocket and pulling out a pack of
Marlboro Reds, the only kind he smoked. He handed her a cancer stick and lit it
up for her, before she skirted around the bench and plopped herself on Richie’s
lap, planting a smacking kiss on his cheek.
 
She nodded at Sammy and Tom. “Sup’ dudes?” She asked.
 
“We’re about to get high,” said Tom. “You want?” He pulled out another piece of
gum.
 
Bev raised a brow, “Gum?”
 
“It’s gum with LSD dripped on it,” explained Tom, popping one of them in his
mouth and chewing quietly.
 
Richie unwrapped his and put it in his mouth, chewing loud and obnoxiously into
Bev’s ear as she grimaced. “Gross, Trashmouth,” she laughed.
 
“You love it,” he grinned. “You want some alcohol, senõrita?”
 
“What is it?”
 
“Vodka and cranberry.”
 
“Gimme,” she made grabby hands and Richie laughed before handing the solo cup
over. She took a swallow rivaling Richie’s own before taking a puff off her
cigarette.
 
“You talk to the other Losers lately?” Bev asked, handing him back his solo cup
and watching as he took another large gulp.
 
“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “You know they don’t approve of my activities
and besides, we all kinda grew apart.”
 
“No, we didn’t,” said Bev. “ You  did.”
 
Richie didn’t say anything. He hoped his face didn’t betray what he thought
about what she said. It was true, but he didn’t like to think about it.
 
“I was actually heading over to Bill’s house when I spotted you,” she said.
“They are having an old 80’s movie marathon or something…”
 
“And they didn’t invite me?” Richie pretends to act like he’s shocked, but he’s
not. There was still a pang in his gut and he had a feeling it wasn’t the
alcohol.
 
“Fuck ‘em,” said Tom beside Richie. “You don’t need them, you’ve got us!” He
slung an arm around Richie’s shoulder and pulled him into a deep kiss, with Bev
still in his lap.
 
They pulled away and Tom was grinning, Richie panting slightly and his glasses
fogging up a little. “You guys couldn’t have waited to do that until I was out
of his lap?” Bev snarked.
 
“He’s too irresistible, Bev,” said Tom, pinching one of Richie’s slim cheeks
before taking a swig straight from the vodka bottle before passing it to Sammy
who did the same.
 
“Yo, Sam-O,” said Richie. “Where’s that weed you promised me?”
 
Sammy flipped him off before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a
baggie full of kush, a psychedelic grinder, and wrappers. He handed it over to
Richie, stating, “You’re better at rolling than me.”
 
“Ain’t that the truth,” Richie muttered. “You looked like a fucking idiot when
you twisted it up!” He laughed raucously, chewing steadily on the acid gum. He
could already feel  something  beginning to happen. He expertly got to work
grinding the weed before spreading it evenly in the paper and twisting it up
perfectly. He looked to Bev still sitting in his lap and offered it to her,
“M’lady? Would you do the honors?”
 
Bev took it with a grin and stole Richie’s lighter, sparking up and taking a
large puff, French inhaling the smoke.
 
“Hot,” all three of the boys muttered in unison before cracking up.
 
Bev grinned and handed it back over to Richie before standing up. “Well, I
better get going or they’re gonna call the Cavalry on me. Hey Rich, if you
don’t get too fucked up, maybe you should come by. I’m sure they’d be all happy
to see you.”
 
“I doubt it,” Richie muttered under his breath but he fixed Bev with a large,
unassuming smile. “Maybe, Bev-Bev. If I’m not too fucked up.”
===============================================================================
He got way fucked up. The acid gum kicked in about 20 minutes after Bev walked
away from them and the vodka burning his throat made his head a mess with all
the shit was seeing. At some point in the night, he and his boys found
themselves lying in the grass, staring at the starry sky, except none of them
were really seeing the sky, they were seeing somethings else.
 
Richie saw many things: spiders crawling everywhere, naked people sprawling
around, and  clowns . Richie hated clowns, but he’d had experience with this
gum before, so he knew they weren’t real, just figments of his fucked up brain.
He had learned to laugh at the clowns and not feel so scared of them in this
state of mind. He laughed out loud as he saw one of the clowns do some crazy
ass kind of dance, kicking his long legs from side to side.
 
Tom got really handsy when he was high and he kept feeling up and down Richie’s
sides as they lay in the grass, rucking up underneath his Nirvana shirt and
caressing his abdomen. Richie had to admit it felt pretty good, especially
since he was as high as a motherfucking kite. Tom leaned over and pressed a
loud kiss to the corner of Richie’s mouth, making him laugh and push him away,
but Tom only pursued further and whispered in his ear, “Can’t wait for you to
suck my cock.”
 
Richie laughed harder and reached down, cupping Tom through his jeans,
eliciting a groan from him. “Why don’t we go now?” Tom whispered. “Sammy is
passed out.” He jerked his head behind him and it was true, Sammy was out like
a light, snoring slightly.
 
Richie looked at him through uncomprehending eyes for a moment before shaking
himself and saying, “You go to my house and sneak through the window since the
door is locked. I’ll meet you there.”
 
Tom squinted at him suspiciously. “What you going to do?”
 
“Well, dumbass, someone’s gotta take Sammy home.”
 
“I’m not a dumbass,” Tom grumbled, but he did as he said and stumbled up and
away, waving frantically as he left.
 
Richie crawled over to Sammy, laughing at his snores and shaking him slightly.
“Yo, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wakey wakey!”
 
Sammy groaned and batted his hands away but Richie was relentless. He shook him
harder and when that didn’t work, he crawled on top of him and kissed him fully
on the mouth, startling Sammy fully awake and high as fuck.
 
Sammy burst out laughing and jerked Richie off of him, both of them rolling
with laughter. After a few moments Sammy had enough sense to ask, “Where’s
Tom?”
 
“He’s, uh, he’s going to my house for some—“ Richie waggled his eyebrows
obscenely. “And  I,  the good sir that I am, am going to take you home first!
So come on, old chap!” He stood up on unsteady feet and stuffed his stuff back
in his backpack before offering a hand to Sammy, who took it after staring at
it for a moment, his pupils blown. Richie figured he looked the same.
 
He helped him to his feet, both of them swaying heavily, and put Sammy’s
backpack on his back before looping their arms around each other and staggering
to the street where Sammy lived, which was coincidentally the same street where
Bill lived.
 
On the way, they laughed and pointed out the things they saw in their fucked up
minds. “That tree is  glowing , Richie. It’s  glowing !”
 
“The moon is going technicolor on me, Sammy, my man. It’s blue then purple then
red then pink…”
 
“Sick.”
 
“It’s pretty  rad , my dude.”
 
“Never say that again.”
 
They staggered all the way down the street, their highs peaking, and passed
Bill’s house. Richie could hear laughter inside but he ignored it. His heart
was pounding loud in his eardrums but he chalked it up to the drugs in his
system and pushed on, half carrying Sammy to his house.
 
They finally got to Sammy’s house and fumbled with the lock until it gave.
Sammy’s parents were like Richie’s, they didn’t give a fuck about their son’s
whereabouts or his activities. They were business people, and were rarely home
like Richie’s parents, except they weren’t drunks, just neglectful. Richie made
sure he was okay inside, as best he could as he was seeing some  really  weird
shit now and gave him a goodbye hug before stumbling out the door and back down
the street.
 
He took it slow, just taking in his environment as his high reached a personal
peak. He looked at the ground and saw it fluctuating in waves and turning all
sorts of colors, colors Richie thought he’d never even seen before. He
eventually approached Bill’s house again and fought with himself on whether or
not he should peek in the window, but his inhibitions were low because of the
LSD and alcohol, so his weaker side won over and he peered inside.
 
There they were, the Losers Club. They didn’t appear any different than what he
had seen at school, but at the same time they did. Bill was as tall as ever and
his stutter was growing fainter with every day that passed. He looked happy
with his arm wrapped around Stan’s shoulders, who still looked prim and proper,
his OCD showing. They were positively glowing, although Richie couldn’t tell if
that was just from the drugs. Their faces kept morphing though, from normal to
scary, back and forth, back and forth like someone was pressing a button and
changing their faces over and over again. Richie mimed this with his hand,
giggling silently to himself as they changed with every “click” of the button.
 
Mike was buff and handsome, a football star and resident popular guy, although
that took away none of his kindness towards others. He even still said hi to
Richie in the hallways, which made Richie respect him all the more. He seemed
to be saying something funny, for the others laughed and it sounded like music
to Richie’s ears, which made him angry.
 
Bev looked the same as he saw her earlier, and still pretty beyond belief in
her homemade clothes that were really impressive. They seemed to sparkle under
the lights of the living room where they sat and Richie spent an inordinate
amount of time just staring.
 
Next to her was Ben, and boy did he change. He was much skinnier now, and
muscular too. He had taken to running track for the school and he was good,
really  good. He was handsome too, to boot. Richie could tell by the way Bev
kept staring at him that her crush on Bill had transformed into one for Ben.
Richie thought that was good, they’d be good together.
 
And then there was Eddie, and Richie heard himself visibly gasp because if Stan
and Bill were glowing, then Eddie was surrounded by a halo of light. He was
gorgeous. He was still small but bigger than he was when they were kids. He was
wearing a pink sweater that absolutely swallowed him and Richie thought that
was the most cutest thing he’d ever seen. His hair wasn’t as neatly styled
anymore, Richie figured the hold his Mom had over him wasn’t nearly as
prevalent anymore.
 
He stared too long he realized, for Bill suddenly looked confused and jerked
his head to the window. Before Richie had the chance to duck down, he could
hear Bill say the word, “R-Richie?”
 
Shit.
===============================================================================
 
Richie was not in a good state of mind at that moment to think about
hightailing it out of there, so he just sort of stood there like a fool, hoping
and praying that they wouldn’t come out.
 
But they did.
 
He heard their distorted footsteps come to the front door and then it swung
open, the Losers club filing out. They looked surprised to see them and Richie
hoped they couldn’t see his dilated pupils in the darkness. He could tell that
Bev could tell, but she didn’t say anything.
 
“Uh, sup guys?” He waved his hand half heartedly, their forms distorting worse
than before. “Wow, you guys look  so  weird…”
 
Bill and the others exchanged a look and Bev was shaking her head at him, as if
to say “shut up!”.
 
“What are you d-doing here?” Bill asked.
 
“Well, my good fellows, I was having a nice stroll down memory lane, admiring
the technicolor of the trees, when I heard some sort of laughter so I decided
to check it out,” Richie said.
 
“Are you high?” Stan asked bluntly, looking disgusted.
 
“As a kite,” Richie answered solemnly then burst out laughing, their bodies
turning into red balloons. “You guys are balloons!”
 
“Jesus, Richie,” said Eddie, barely even looking at him which just made him
angry. Why wouldn’t he look at him? “What the fuck did you take.”
 
“Uh,  gum ,” Richie blinked slowly at them, their bodies returning to normal
for a moment.
 
“No way, shithead,” Eddie’s voice was coming out slowly and Richie could swear
a rainbow was flowing out of his mouth. “Gum doesn’t do  that  to a person.”
 
“Well, it did Eddie Spaghetti.”
 
“Don’t call me that.”
 
Richie only grinned and shook his head. “Sorry to break up the little ‘reunion’
or whatever but I gotta get home. I got a date with ole Tommo’s dick,” he
winked at them before stumbling away.
 
He faintly heard the group say in unison, “Beep beep, Richie,” which only made
him sloppily flip them off behind him.
 
He stumbled back home, huddled in his jean jacket. The temperature had fallen
another ten degrees and Richie was positively freezing. He tried to run the
rest of the way home but his legs just wouldn’t work that way yet because of
the drugs and alcohol pumping in his system so he tried to preserve as much
warmth as possible.
 
He finally got back and fumbled with the keys that were fluctuating in his eyes
until the door swung open and there stood Tom. “I was beginning to think you
got lost, loser.”
 
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
 
“With pleasure, babe,” Tom wrapped his arms around Richie and pulled him
inside, kicking the door closed. While Richie was tall and skinny, Tom was even
more so. He leaned down and captured Richie’s lips with his, slamming him
against the shut door.
 
Richie’s hands wound their way into Tom’s hair, mussing up the perfect style.
If Richie was in a better state of mind, he may have noticed that Tom’s hair
was styled a lot in the same way Eddie used to style his. He wasn’t, however,
so all his brain did was admire how soft and silky the strands were.
 
Tom attacked his mouth with a ferocity, licking and nipping into his lips and
mapping out the inside of his mouth with tongue. Richie groaned and pulled him
closer, where Tom pressed wet, open mouthed kisses down his neck, licking a
large bite on his neck making Richie moan. He pushed him backwards, their lips
never leaving one another and messily made their way up the stairs to Richie’s
bedroom, where Richie threw Tom on the sheets.
 
Tom’s head cracked against the headboard but he didn’t even wince, he just
grinned and motioned for Richie to come closer, his finger curling grotesquely
in Richie’s drugged up vision. Richie fell upon him and tore at his leather
jacket, Tom getting the hint and pulling it off rather clumsily. They kissed
again, Richie’s glasses bumping Tom’s nose as their heads moved to and fro,
kissing with a fervor.
 
“You want me to suck your dick, huh?” Richie giggled against his lips.
 
“It’s what you promised, babe,” Tom said, taking Richie’s hand and feeling his
hardness through his jeans.
 
“I’m not your babe,” said Richie but he knelt down in between Tom’s legs and
unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. Tom rarely wore underwear for
situations like these.
 
Richie’s mouth nearly watered at the sight. He really was bisexual, he laughed
to himself. There was nothing like eating a girl out or sucking some dude’s
dick. Richie lived for it. It was really the only time he felt wanted, for he
sure as shit never got that from his parents.
 
Richie wasted no time getting his mouth on Tom, teasing the head before
wrapping his lips around him and sucking. Tom cursed and curled his fingers
into Richie’s thick, inky black curls, pushing him further down until Richie
thought he was going to gag, but he didn’t.
 
His glasses slid down his nose so he hastily pushed them up as he bobbed his
head up and down, jacking Tom where he couldn’t reach with his mouth. His own
cock was straining against his jeans, so he reached a hand down underneath the
fabric and began stroking himself as he sucked Tom off.
 
Richie was good at this, really good. He’d satisfied a number of people and
always had them coming back for more, which didn’t bother him one bit. He could
feel Tom was getting close, for he began thrusting up into Richie’s mouth.
Richie began jacking himself off faster, rougher, chasing after that high that
was better than any drug.
 
“ Ah! Ah! Ah!  Richie!” Tom groaned, thrusting faster and tightening his hand
until it hurt in Richie’s hair, signaling he was about to come.
 
Richie grinned and jacked himself faster and faster until he felt a familiar
coil in his belly begin to unfurl and he knew he was close also. Without any
further warning, Tom spilled down his throat and that was enough to make Richie
come too, staining his jeans. Richie saw galaxies behind his eyelids, the stars
and the planets aligning in his head. It was like he was peaking on a thousand
blotters of LSD, lost in a never-ending euphoria.
 
Richie let up off of Tom’s dick and made eye contact with him as he swallowed.
Tom groaned and muttered, “Hot.” He breathed heavily and ran a hand through his
neat black hair.
 
“You’re great at that, man.”
 
“I know. I aim to please,” said Richie cheekily and he laid back down on the
bed beside Tom. His vision was still wavering, Tom’s head turning bulbous for a
moment before going back to normal.
 
Tom pulled out his phone and checked the time, looking silly as he stared long
and hard trying to understand the numbers. “Shit, I gotta go home. My Mom’s
gonna freak if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes.”
 
Lucky you  thought Richie sullenly. His Mom didn’t give a crap one way or the
other, which admittedly was helpful when he was out all night getting as drunk
as a skunk.
 
“Here,” said Tom, zipping his pants back up and reaching into his pocket,
pulling out several foil wrapped pieces of that gum, “before I forget.” He
placed them on Richie’s stained bedside table before standing up and righting
himself.
 
“You know I was only kidding about that, right?” Richie asked.
 
“I wasn’t,” then Tom leaned down and kissed him wetly on the cheek before
staggering away.
 
Richie watched him go, before flopping down on his bed when he heard the door
slam. He felt the sheets beneath his fingers, wondering if he could feel each
thread count as he ran his hands over them. It felt like heaven to just lie
there, but eventually Richie became aware that he  probably  needed to change
his pants for they got all sticky beyond repair.
 
He removed his jean jacket and Nirvana t-shirt, throwing them haphazardly
across the room before shucking off his dirty jeans and briefs, putting them in
his laundry basket. It was absolutely freezing in his room, it was always so
cold in there.
 
He threw on a Batman sweatshirt and black sweatpants, then threw himself back
on his bed and rode out the rest of his high till morning, putting in his
earbuds and coasting on the melodies his phone played.
 
He wished he could stay like this forever, living in an never ending high and
oblivious to the world and all its fucked up problems, including his own.
Chapter End Notes
     song - jesus of suburbia by green day
***** you might be wrong 'cause you know i'm right, if you lose your way you
just follow mine *****
Chapter Notes
     So my muse is just brimming for this story, so expect more (i hope)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Richie woke Monday morning with a hangover the size of Texas and ole Eddie
Spaghetti’s mother smushed together. He had spent Sunday alone in his room,
hotboxing the shit out of some good weed Sammy had given him Saturday and
finishing off the bottle of vodka they had shared on Friday while watching
Netflix on his phone. He had stolen his Dad’s credit card to buy himself a
subscription a few years back and he still hadn’t said anything about it, the
oblivious fucker. Richie trudged himself to his bathroom after putting on his
glasses, looking at his appearance in his dirty mirror.
 
He was a mess. His hair was wilder than normal, his eyes were an ugly shade of
bloodshot and there were circles underneath as dark as Hell. He fumbled in the
drawers under his sink for his eye drops, but there were none. He cursed and
slammed the drawer. He’d have to settle for his sunglasses. Thank God they were
prescription.
 
He made his way to school looking like a regular hooligan, but honestly, what
else was new? He smoked a cigarette while he rode his skateboard to school,
definitely late. He had slept through his alarm and didn’t even try to rush as
he got dressed and popped four aspirin. He didn’t care. School didn’t matter
much to him, despite the A grades he got, much to the frustration of his
teachers.
 
The front of the school was completely empty when he arrived, devoid of any
loitering students, for class had started twenty minutes ago. He stubbed out
his cigarette in the quad and then made his way to his locker, luckily avoiding
any of the school staff. They were all itching to give him detention for the
rest of his high school career. He stuffed his skateboard inside his locker,
just big enough to allow it to fit before grabbing his chemistry book and going
to class.
 
The teacher, Ms. Turner, was a mean thing, only twenty-seven years old but as
crabby as an old lady. It was a shame, because she was actually quite
beautiful, with cornsilk hair and bright blue eyes that were always hardened to
flint when she looked at Richie, like now. “Well,” she said, crossing her arms
and staring down Richie like a hawk, “Look who decided to grace us with his
presence.”
 
Richie tried to look remorseful, but it was hard with his sunglasses on.
“Sorry, teach,” he said. “I slept through my alarm.”
 
Ms. Turner didn’t look convinced. “Go to your desk, Mr. Tozier, and take off
those ridiculous sunglasses.”
 
Richie made his way to his desk, which was coincidentally in front of Stan and
said, “No can do, teach, about the sunglasses.”
 
Ms. Turner huffed, annoyed, “And why not?”
 
“Because I, uh, got a bad case of the eye drips.”
 
“ Eye  drips?”
 
“Yeah, when your eye is so infected it drips pus,” the class erupted into
groans and he heard one kid even gag a little. He smirked.
 
“Where’s your doctor’s note, then?” Ms. Turner asked.
 
Ooh. Checkmate, Ms. Turner.
 
“It, uh, I left it at home,” Richie heard Stan scoff disbelievingly behind him
and he fought the urge to flip him off right there in class.
 
“Likely story, Mr. Tozier. Take off your sunglasses and you can expect a
detention after school today,” the class oohed at that and Richie rolled his
eyes before sliding his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing the bloodshot of
his eyes and the dark circles.
 
“ This , class, is an example of who you should  not  aspire to be,” said Ms.
Turner before turning back to the whiteboard.
 
Richie muttered something ugly under his breath but pulled out his glasses and
shoved them on his face before taking out his book and paper, and began to take
notes.
 
He tried, he really did, but Richie was pretty certain he had untreated ADHD so
it was incredibly difficult to stay focused. He kept tapping his pen on the
desk and jiggling his leg, looking around at the other students who seemed to
have no problem focusing on what that bitch Ms. Turner said.
 
His tapping must have annoyed Stan, for he felt him lean up behind him and
mutter in his ear, “If you don’t stop tapping your goddamn pencil, I swear to
God I will strangle you right here and now.”
 
Richie smirked and tapped his pencil even harder, muttering back, “I thought
Jews didn’t believe in God.”
 
“We don’t believe in Jesus, dumbass, now stop that!”
 
“Is there a problem, boys?” Ms. Turner turned around from the whiteboard,
looking exasperated.
 
Stan immediately moved back into his seat. “Nothing, Ms. Turner. Just asking
Richie for a pen.”
 
Richie coughed, “ Lying ass .”
 
Stan kicked him swiftly under the desk and Richie let out a laugh.
 
“Alright, that’s it. Mr. Tozier you can expect another detention tomorrow and
Mr. Uris here can join you today,” Ms. Turner said, looking rather pleased with
herself.
 
“What?!” Stan nearly yelled. “M—Ms. Turner, I can’t have detention.”
 
“Too bad, Mr. Uris,” said Ms. Turner. “You should know better than to associate
with that boy.”
 
Class ended without any further incidents, though Richie could feel Stan
glaring daggers in the back of his head. When the bell rung, Richie was the
first out of the door, breezing past the others in the class and out into the
hallway. He was halfway to his next class when he heard someone call his name.
 
“Richie!” It was Michelle, one of Richie’s friends and occasional hookups. She
was absolutely gorgeous with an elfin face and pitch black hair like Richie’s,
only hers was straight. She had bright blue eyes that were always lined with
kohl and black clothes. Today she was wearing a black dress that went to her
knees and fishnets with black combat boots. On her back was a large jean jacket
that swallowed her thin frame up. She was so thin because she was addicted to
speed, practically ate the pills up like candy. Sometimes she gave some to
Richie if she was feeling generous. She usually was.
 
“Oh, hey ‘Chelle,” he said, turning to her. He looked at her jacket, “Is that
mine?”
 
Michelle smirked. “Yeah, it is. You gotta problem with that, Richie?”
 
“None whatsoever, ‘Chelle. Keep it, it looks good on you.”
 
“You look good too, Richie.  Real  good. Wanna come to my house after school
today? We can do some blow~”
 
“Tch, can’t. Got detention after school today.”
 
“That’s okay, just come over after. My parents won’t be home till like nine.”
 
“Okay, sure ‘Chelle,” Richie made to leave but Michelle grabbed the edge of his
hoodie and pulled him into a searing kiss, right there in the middle of the
hallway. She was a very affectionate person.
 
“A promise for later,” Michelle whispered against his lips before flouncing off
to class, leaving Richie in the dust. He watched her leave for a moment before
gathering himself and walking to class, feeling as though there were eyes on
him the whole time.
===============================================================================
Eddie was a fool. A total and utter fool, and it was no one’s fault but
himself. The day had started out normal enough: he woke up, brushed his teeth,
styled his curls, got dressed in a pastel pink sweater and acid wash jeans, and
came down and ate breakfast with his Mom. They didn’t really talk much, ever
since Eddie had found out second-hand through Gretta Keene that all his pills
were placebos, and that was fine with Eddie. He didn’t really want to talk to
her anyway.
 
Bill picked him up for school like he always did, after picking up Stan and
Ben, then they were on the way to Beverly’s house where she lived with her Aunt
after she  finally  got her Father arrested for sexual deviancy. They got to
school early, like always, and made their way to their lockers. Eddie couldn’t
help himself, but he found himself looking for  him .
 
Richie .
 
Ever since before Eddie can remember, he always had a thing for Richie. Whether
it was friendship or something more, Eddie didn’t know at first, but the years
progressed and he started noticing Richie in a different light, in a way that
his Mother always told him no boy should think about another boy.
 
But he couldn’t help it, Richie was entrancing.
 
With his coal black hair and huge glasses, jokes that Eddie always rolled his
eyes to but secretly enjoyed, the nicknames he gave him,  everything . He hated
it, absolutely  hated  it when Richie began to distance himself, eventually
cutting himself off altogether from Eddie and the others. Eddie had tried to
confront him, but Richie had brushed him off.
 
Eddie knew what he got up to,  everyone  knew what he got up to. He was a
fiend, not like Bowers, but a fiend nonetheless. He got high on  something
everyday and drunk more times than not. One time, he stumbled into school two
hours late stinking of weed and alcohol. Eddie knew about that because he was
in his class with him. Richie got sent home for a week and almost expelled, but
with his exceptional grades, they didn’t want to let him go so easily.
 
Eddie always found himself looking for Richie while they were in school, always
wanting to get a look at his beautiful but wan face, but he always disappointed
in one way or another.
 
Like today.
 
He was in the hallway, after first period, getting his books for his second
class and, as always, looking for Richie, when he saw him in the hallway,
talking to  Michelle . Eddie  hated  Michelle. She was a junkie and a whore,
who had the hots for Richie and Richie liked her back, which made Eddie want to
hit something, hit  her .
 
Like now.
 
Eddie gripped the steel of his locker hard in his hand, watching as Michelle
grabbed Richie’s hoodie and pulled him into a searing kiss, making Eddie’s
blood boil. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this, be jealous over someone
who didn’t even acknowledge his existence anymore, not that Eddie was any
better. He remembered with clarity last Friday night, how high Richie had been
when Bill had saw him peering through the window. Eddie couldn’t even look at
him then, saddened by how far Richie had fallen, and for what?
 
What made Richie do that?
 
What went wrong?
 
Eddie had wanted answers, had demanded them from Richie when he began to
distance himself from him and the others, but Richie hadn’t given him any. Just
brushed him off, as he did for the next few months until Eddie and the others
stopped trying altogether. The only person who still hung out with him was
Beverly, and Eddie supposed that was because he and Bev were like kindred
spirits.
 
At one point Eddie thought  he  and Richie were kindred spirits, but he
supposed he thought wrong.
 
Eddie slammed his locker door shut after grabbing his Literature book and
shuffled his way to class, which he shared with Bill and Ben. He was early,
despite watching Richie and Michelle sucking face, and sat down next to Bill.
Bill was writing in his notebook that was especially for Bill’s writings and
musings. Bill was a  really  good writer, mostly horror stories that were
terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Eddie was a complete scaredy cat when
it came to horror but he still read Bill’s stuff religiously, as did the rest
of the Losers club.
 
Eddie looked to Bill, and forced himself to ask, “Is Michelle Greene dating
Richie?”
 
Bill looked up at him, startled. “W-What? Is Richie d-dating who?”
 
“ Michelle . Michelle Greene,” Eddie should just shut up, really. But he
couldn’t help it, he  had  to know.
 
Bill shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I don’t think s-so? Wasn’t he about to, y-you
know…” He indicated downwards with his head to his crotch and Eddie immediately
got the message.
 
“Yeah, but…”
 
“Butttttt, Richie sleeps around. You  know  this.  Everybody  knows this. It’s
probably nothing, Eddie. Wh-why do you c-care anyway?” Bill asked.
 
Eddie didn’t answer. Thankfully, the teacher walked in with Ben behind her and
they both shut up and focused on the English lesson. He walked through the rest
of the first couple of classes in a daze until lunchtime where he sat with the
rest of the Losers. His Mom packed his lunch everyday, religiously, even though
they didn’t communicate much, so he carried his pack lunch to the dirty old
table where he and the other Losers sat, bar one.
 
Eddie appreciated Stan, really. He saw him wiping down the table with a crazed
look in his eye with a wet wipe, making sure for all of them that the table was
clean, but especially for him and Eddie, who were both extreme germaphobes,
though Eddie’s had calmed down considerably ever since the summer of ‘13 with
his Mom and Gretta Keene. Those damn placebos.
 
They all sat down after Stan had done his customary wipe down and Eddie sat
next to Bev and Ben, getting a good look at the table that Richie sat at with
his friends Tom and Sammy, and sometimes Bobby, who was a senior and ate lunch
out of school usually. Eddie watched as Richie meandered over to their table,
laughing and talking with Tom, who had a lovestruck look on his face as he
stared at Richie. Richie’s lunch tray was absolutely  piled  with food,
everything from the school’s shitty pizza and runny mashed potatoes, to the
relatively good blue jello that they always served on Mondays and Fridays.
 
Eddie must have been staring for too long, for Bev waved a hand in front of his
face teasingly. “Eddie? Earth to Eddie? Are you there?”
 
“Yeah!” Eddie jerked. “Yeah, I’m here.”
 
Bev looked to where Eddie had been staring and smiled sympathetically to him.
She was the only one of the Losers club who knew of Eddie’s pathetic crush on
Richie, even after all this time. She didn’t press the matter, saying, “We were
just talking about the Halloween dance and what we are all going as. I’m going
as Ariel and Ben’s going to be my Eric. What about you, Eddie?”
 
“I, uh, I haven’t thought about it.”
 
“You could be Superman,” suggested Mike. “Isn’t he like, your  favorite
superhero?”
 
“Yeah,” said Eddie slowly, being brought back into the conversation. “But don’t
you think I’m a little small for Superman?”

“Superboy, then,” Bev said, grinning.
 
Eddie groaned. “Not Superboy! I’d rather be Robin…”
 
“There you go!” said Bev happily. “You can be Robin. Now if only we could find
you a  Batman …” She tilted her head discreetly to Richie, which caused Eddie
to kick her under the table, making her grin all the more harder.
 
“Forget about that!” said Stan suddenly, startling all of them at the table. He
had been silent through the whole conversation, stewing on something. “Guess
who just got themselves landed in detention today.”
 
“Henry Bowers,” said the group unanimously.
 
Stan groaned. “I wish, but no. It was me.”
 
“Y-you?” Bill sputtered, and the others looked just as surprised. Stan was a
good student, the  perfect  student, his OCD never allowing for anything less.
“Wh-what did you do?”
 
“Not what  I  did, what  he  did,” he jerked his head in Richie’s direction,
who was still laughing loudly at something that Tom said, leaning his head on
his shoulder. Once again, Eddie’s blood boiled.
 
“What’d he do?” Ben asked, picking at his salad. He didn’t eat much these days,
or at all, Eddie noticed.
 
“He was being so goddamn annoying, coming into class smelling of cigarettes and
his eyes were all bloodshot like he just smoked weed or got off some  huge
bender and he just couldn’t stop tapping his pencil. He was like a mad man,
just tapping away. So, I silently whispered in his ear to knock it off, and
what does he do? He starts tapping even harder, the jackass. Ms. Turner caught
me kicking him under the desk and gave me detention along with him. So now, I
have to suffer an hour long period after school with just  me and  Trashmouth
,” Stan said, looking as if he was about to pull out his curls by the strands.
 
“We-well, it’s only one day, right? H-how bad can it be?” Bill asked, putting
an arm around his boyfriend.
 
“ Bad ,” said Stan dramatically. “You know how he is.”
 
“He’s not  that  bad, Stan,” said Bev, frowning a little.
 
“You just say that because you are still friends with him,” said Stan. “He’s a
junkie, Bev. He’s almost as bad as Bowers.”
 
“No, he’s not,” Bev said, getting incensed. “He’s not anything like Bowers, you
take that back!”
 
“Guys,” Ben whisper-yelled. When they didn’t answer, still bickering, Ben
yelled, “GUYS!”
 
Bev and Stan whirled their heads to him. “What?!” They yelled in unision.
 
“Richie and his friends are coming this way,” he said. “Shut. Up.”
 
Eddie looked up, his heart fit to burst in his chest, and saw that indeed
Richie and his friends were heading right this way. The whole group, except
Bev, held their breath as he walked with a seeming purpose to their table. Bev
was the only one who smiled at him when he approached, although Mike said a
faint, “Hey, man,” which Richie returned.
 
“Heeeeyyyyy, Bev-Bev,” said Richie, placing his arms down on the table and
leaning forward. “How’s life crackalackin?”
 
Bev laughed, completely at ease with Richie. “Good, detention boy.”
 
Richie sucked in a deep breath, “So you heard, I take it.”
 
“From Stan the Man, himself,” said Bev, smirking wickedly at Stan, who glared
at her.
 
Richie turned to Stan. “Hey, man, I just wanted to say sorry about that. I
didn’t mean for Ms. Turner to get you into trouble too, you know she can be a
bitch sometimes—wait, scratch that,  all  the time.”
 
Stan stared at him, mouth agape. Richie almost never apologized, not even when
they were little. “And, uh, I’m  nothing  like Bowers, so just get that out of
your head,” Richie continued before walking away with his friends out the doors
of the cafeteria, Tom and Sammy shoving him playfully through the doors.
 
A moment of silence followed him, all of the Losers except Bev looking like
they were about to catch flies. After a second, Mike spoke up, “Uh, what was
that  about?”
 
“I  told  you,” said Bev, looking smug, “He’s  not  like Bowers. Not. at. all.”
===============================================================================
Richie bust into the boy’s restroom with his friends, already fishing for his
cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket. He jumped up on the sink and cracked open
a window so the smoke would filter out before lighting up, along with Tom and
Sammy. None of them said anything for a moment before Tom spoke up, “Why’d you
apologize to that asshole? We all heard him, he said you were like fucking
Bowers .”
 
Richie shrugged and took a long drag off his cigarette. “I don’t know. Those
guys  were  my friends once upon a time…”
 
“Yeah, like  four years ago ,” said Sammy. “I remember, you were  inseparable
with those guys, then one day you just stopped and started hanging out with us.
I never asked, but...why?” He and Tom looked at him expectantly, waiting for an
answer.
 
Richie just shrugged again. “I don’t know.” That wasn’t true, he  did  know,
but there was no way he was about to spit that out, even to those he called
friends.
 
Tom and Sammy looked at each other, then shrugged, dropping it. That’s what
Richie loved about them: no drama, no nonsense, just party, party, party. Tom
took a drag off his cigarette then said, “You going to that Halloween dance?”
 
“I haven’t given it much thought, why?”
 
“Welllll, me and Sammy are going and we wanted you to tag along.”
 
“ Tag along ?” Richie echoed. “Jeez thanks, Tommy boy.”
 
Tom rolled his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It should be fun,
you get to dress up and we can even spike the punch if bitch Turner and dick
Haraldson aren’t hawking around.”
 
“They are  always  hawking around,” said Richie. “ Especially  at dances.
Remember last year?”
 
Sammy laughed. “Oh, yeah! Bowers got a two month suspension for spiking the
punch bowl with cocaine! Now  that  was a laugh.” At Richie and Tom’s
questioning look, Sammy backtracked, “Not that that was  cool  or anything.
Bowers is a dick.”
 
“Damn straight,” said Richie, puffing on his cigarette.
 
“Forget about Bowers and that shit for a second,” said Tom. “We can still have
a good time, Richie Rich. I know for a  fact  that Michelle is going to be
there.”
 
Richie raised his dark eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? I’m hanging out with her after
detention today…”
 
“You are?!” Both boys asked incredulously, until they shook themselves and Tom
continued, “Well, there you have it. A good reason to go.”
 
Richie shrugged. “I guess,” he said.
 
“Cool,” Tom smiled his charming smile that made people go weak in the knees,
even Richie. “What will you go as?”
 
“Huh?”
 
Tom and Sammy exchanged a look and rolled their eyes. “It’s a  Halloween
party, dude. You gotta dress up.”
 
“Is that a fact?”
 
“Yeah,” said Sammy, oblivious to Richie’s sarcasm, or maybe he was just immune
to it by now. “I’m going as Westley from the Princess Bride, because Sandy
Richardson is going as Princess Buttercup—”
 
“Dude, seriously?” asked Richie, laughing a bit.
 
“Shut the fuck up. She said she’ll have sex with me if I dress up as Westley,
so,  I’m fucking dressing up as Westley for fucks sake!” Sammy said.
 
“Okay, fine, fine!” said Richie, raising his hands in mock surrender. He looked
at Tom, “What about you? What are you going as?”
 
“The Joker,” said Tom simply. “Chicks dig the Joker.”
 
“And boys,” said Richie, winking at him. He sighed heavily, “Alright, alright,
I’ll go.”
 
“What as?” both boys asked at once, over-eager.
 
“Batman.”
===============================================================================
Richie waltzed into detention twelve minutes late, but hey, what else was new?
The teacher overseeing the detention just glared at him before indicating him
to take a seat, the only one free next to Stan, who looked none too pleased by
this development.
 
In detention at Derry High, you were just expected to keep quiet, do your
homework, and absolutely no talking or sleeping. Richie thought it incredibly
boring, but he had long since gotten used to it. He slid into the seat next to
Stan and pulled out his Chemistry homework, as he might as well get it done
since he was here. He flipped through it until he found the page that was
designated for homework, and started on it. He was halfway through when he felt
a timid tap on his arm.
 
He looked up. It was Stan, looking guiltily at him.
 
“Hey,” Stan whispered.
 
“Hey?” Richie whispered back, unsure of where this was going.
 
“I’m--I’m sorry for what I said at lunch earlier,” Stan said in a rush, looking
as if he just swallowed a lemon. “It was--it was uncool of me and--”
 
Richie held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Lemme guess, Billy boy put
you up to this?”
 
Stan didn’t say anything but shook his head no. “Bev-Bev, then?” At that, Stan
looked guilty once more. “Ah,” said Richie, chewing on the end of his pen.
“Well, don’t worry. As I learned from the American Girl Felicity movie, ‘Words
spoken in the heat of anger, are never from the heart.’”
 
Stan raised a brow at that, but said, “Noted. Thanks, Richie. You know, you
should--”
 
“Imma stop you right there,” said Richie. “I don’t want to hang out with you
guys, I was just trying to be nice.”
 
Stan’s eyes turned ice cold. “You’re an asshole, Richie.”
 
“I know. My parents tell me all the time.”
 
Stan said nothing and turned back to his homework, effectively ending their
conversation. Richie did the same, and finished his Chemistry homework in
record time. It was all too easy for him, really. It was pathetic at how easy
it was, even for someone like him.
 
A junkie  said a voice in his head.  A no account, no good, asshole .
 
Richie told the voice to go to Hell and practically shot out of his seat when
the teacher let them go, grabbing his skateboard out of his locker and making
his way down to Michelle’s house near the high school. He knocked on the door
only once, and Michelle opened the door, looking extremely pleased to see him.
 
“Hey Rich,” she said. “Glad you’re here. Come in, have a drink with me.”
 
Richie kicked his skateboard up into his hand and followed her inside. She had
a nice suburban home, not like Richie’s at all. It was all clean and pastel, a
stark contrast to Michelle and himself. It was completely empty except for the
two of them, and the flat screen TV in the living room was playing some Netflix
show.
 
Michelle held out two bottles to him. “Ciroc or Tequila?”
 
“Tequila,” said Richie, throwing his backpack down on the floor and flouncing
on the expensive couch. “I’ve had enough of vodka to last me a few days.”
 
“Only a few days, I’m sure,” teased Michelle, pouring him out a shot of
tequila.
 
“You know it’s my vice ‘Chelle.”
 
“I know, Richie Rich. Here,” she handed him the tequila and he threw it back in
one gulp, quickly motioning for another one. Michelle didn’t even seem fazed by
this, already grabbing the bottle.
 
“So,” said Michelle as she handed him his shot, “you going to the Halloween
dance?”
 
“Yeah,” said Richie, throwing back the shot, his head already swimming. “I know
you are too.”
 
“Oh, yeah?” Michelle leered at him. “How do you know that?”
 
“Tommo told me.”
 
“Good ole Tommo,” sighed Michelle. She got a glint in her eye, “Is it true you
sucked his dick Friday night?”
 
“I suck everyone’s dick, ‘Chelle.”
 
“ Yeah , but did you suck his?”
 
“Um, yeah. Have you seen that thing?”
 
Michelle laughed, delighted. “I have. He was my first, you know.”
 
“I do know,” said Richie, leaning back into the couch. “He couldn’t stop
talking about it the first time I told him you and I fucked.” He paused, then
asked, “Who was better, ‘Chelle? Him or me?”
 
Michelle pretended to think about it for a moment before smiling wickedly.
“Him,” she said.
 
“What?! No way!”
 
Michelle burst out laughing. “I’m just kidding, Trashmouth. You were better,
believe me .”
 
Richie smiled, satisfied, until he remembered just why he was there. “Heeeyyy,
didn’t you promise me some blow?”
 
“I did,” said Michelle, reaching into the breast of her dress and pulling out a
small, clear baggie filled with white powder. “Wanna get high as the Empire
State building?”
 
“Um, hell yes?”
 
Michelle grinned and poured the white powder onto the glass surface of the
coffee table in her living room while Richie pulled out his wallet to get his
licence and a dollar bill. He handed the dollar bill off to Michelle to roll up
while he cut up the product, sorting it into little thin white lines. Once he
was done, he turned to Michelle, “Ladies first.”
 
She rolled her eyes at him but leaned down and snorted the cocaine down her
nose, doing two lines. She threw her head back, saying, “I say Goddamn!”
 
Richie burst out laughing. “Did you just quote ‘Pulp Fiction’?”
 
She flipped him off before holding out the rolled up dollar bill. He took it
and snorted the remaining two lines, feeling the effects immediately. He looked
up at Michelle and smiled hazily, eyes crazed and feeling like he could fight
fucking God in that moment. “Hey,” he said. “Wanna fuck?”
 
She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said before she attacked him,
pushing him against the couch and sticking her tongue down his mouth.
 
Richie planted his hands on her sides, roaming up and down before cupping her
pert ass through her dress, causing her to moan. He lifted up the dress,
pulling at the edge of her fishnets until she pulled away and kicked off her
combat boots and fishnets. She wasn’t  wearing any underwear. She usually
didn’t.
 
She grabbed Richie by his curls and pulled him into another kiss. “Let’s take
this to my room,” she panted against his lips. “I’d rather have sex in my room
instead on the couch where my parents sit.”
 
“Fair enough.”
 
He let her pull him down the hallway into her room, that was painted white with
black furniture and even a black bed, which she pushed Richie down onto. They
grinned at each other, falling into a familiar dance. She smushed her mouth
against his again and their tongues tangled. Richie reached up under her dress
and snuck a finger into her wet heat, breaking out another moan from her.
 
She straddled him, rubbing herself against his growing erection. She tugged on
his black hoodie, and Richie got the picture quick, pulling the hoodie up over
his head and throwing it across the room, revealing his lean, bordering on
emaciated body. Michelle didn’t care, hers was the same. She pulled off her
black dress, throwing it in the same direction as Richie’s hoodie, showing off
her bright pink bra.
 
Richie raised a brow. “Pink?” He asked, teasing.
 
“Shut up,” said Michelle. “All of my other ones are in the wash.”
 
“Uh huh.”
 
“Shut the hell up and fuck me already!”
 
“With pleasure, Miss Greene,” and with that, Richie rolled them over so that he
was on top and unbuttoning his jeans, his hands shaking from the blow as he
removed them and his boxers. He paused and said, “You got a condom?”
 
Michelle rolled her eyes and reached into her bedside table. “Always,” she
said, bringing out a rubber.
 
Richie took it with a grin and set it on the bed before attacking her small
breasts with his mouth through the fabric of her bra, wetting the material with
his tongue before reaching behind and unclipping it, letting it fall off her
form. He latched onto a rosy nipple, licking and sucking, eliciting a kitten
moan from Michelle. One of his hands tweaked her other nipple while the other
one branded down her side until he came upon her wetness, teasingly caressing
her outer folds before plunging his finger inside, curling gently. Michelle
arched up off the bed and into his mouth, causing him to grin.
 
“You like that, ‘Chelle?” He teased.
 
“Of course I do, you fucking asshat!” Michelle cursed, angling her hips so his
finger would go deeper.
 
He pumped his finger in and out quickly, curling it  just right  until he
coaxed her G-spot to life, causing her to see stars. He withdrew his hand and
grabbed the condom, but Michelle stopped him, saying, “Let me.” They flipped
over again, this time Michelle on top and taking in his large, leaking
erection.
 
She ripped open the wrapper and positioned it on the tip of his dick before
rolling it down in one smooth, practiced motion. Richie groaned at the contact
and his head fell upon her pillow. Michelle straddled him and placed her hands
on his chest, brushing her thumbs over his nipples lightly, causing him to
jerk. His nipples were always sensitive.
 
Michelle grinned and positioned herself over his cock, both of them making eye
contact before she sunk down, not stopping until her bottom grazed his hips.
They both let a moan at the action. Richie could extrapolate all kinds of words
on the feeling of a tight heat around his dick, boy or girl. The tightness, the
incredible heat that seemed to deep through his very soul, how incredibly
right  it was to have that feeling around him, all of it.
 
Michelle immediately began to bounce fast on his dick, both of them lost in the
sensations of the coke mixed with sex. Richie leaned up from his spot on the
bed and branded his hands all over Michelle’s body as he kissed her and they
fucked fast and wet. Michelle scratched angry red lines down his back making
Richie moan with pleasure and he sucked a huge bite on her neck that she for
sure would have trouble covering up.
 
He flipped them again, with Michelle on her back, and began pounding away,
gripping her hips in a grip that could bruise, both of them chasing that high.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Michelle screamed, one hand in her hair, the other rubbing her
clit furiously.
 
The familiar coil in Richie’s belly began to unravel and his thrusts became
more and more erratic, but he still got the job done and well at that. They
reached the edge together, Michelle coming with a shout and Richie with a
grunt, spilling deep into the condom and then falling heavily on top of her.
She smacked him on the back where the bright red scratches she left were and he
rolled over and out, both of them panting heavily.
 
Richie was still buzzing. Buzzing with energy from the coke and the activity
that he just did. He was feeling hyped up, ready to go. He wanted to go do
something,  anything . He sat up on the bed and pulled off the condom, tying it
off and throwing it in the bin. He started to haphazardly throw on his clothes
while Michelle looked at him confusedly.
 
“What are you doing?” She asked.
 
“Getting ready to go fuck your Mom...or your Dad depending on my mood,” said
Richie.
 
Michelle scoffed. “Fuck off, Trashmouth. What are  really  doing?”
 
“Leaving. Isn’t it obvious?”
 
Michelle pouted. “But, don’t you wanna hang for a bit? We could do more blow~”
 
“Sorry, ‘Chelle,” said Richie, pulling on his hoodie. “I promised the boys I’d
go see a movie with them tonight.”
 
“Can I come?”
 
“Sorry. Boy’s night.”
 
Michelle huffed but said no more, watching him as he finished getting dressed.
He leaned over and gave her a smacking kiss on the forehead before leaving,
grabbing his skateboard and backpack on the way out and sneakily doing one more
line of blow that was still on the coffee table.
 
He was practically vibrating with energy as he skated away from her house and
towards the direction of the actual town, looking for something to do. He was
passing the alley by the movie theater when he heard a whimper, a very familiar
whimper. A whimper he hadn’t heard in years.
 
He stopped his skateboard and looked around for the source of the whimper. He
looked down the alleyway and what he saw made his fast-beating heart stop in
his all too thin chest.
 
It was Eddie, cowering against the alley wall while Bowers and his gang kicked
and punched him, calling him all kinds of insults. Richie felt his heart pound
again, angry and all consuming, and he saw red, obscuring his vision until all
he saw was Eddie, little Eddie Spaghetti, being whaled on because he was
different. Richie could not stand for that,  would not  stand for that, so he
did the only rational thing to do in that situation.
 
He jumped into the fray.
Chapter End Notes
     The next chapter should be fun ;)
     song - silly boy by the blue van
***** and it cut me sharp, hearing you'd gone away but everything goes away,
yeah everything goes away *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Richie grabbed his skateboard, holding it aloft and ran forward into the alley,
letting out a guttural scream. He whacked Henry Bowers on the back of the head
with his skateboard, splitting it right in half as it made contact with his
head. Henry Bowers went sprawling to the alley floor, clutching his head and
coming away with blood.
 
“What the hell, Trashmouth?!” Patrick Hockstetter yelled, stopping his kicking
to Eddie’s middle and turning on him. Belch and Vic Cross stopped too and
turned to him.
 
Richie said nothing, feeling wild and struck out, punching Patrick across the
face and feeling the skin split open on his knuckles. It didn’t hurt, only
spurred him on further. Patrick went reeling to the ground beside Henry, who
was starting to get up, pulling out his switchblade.
 
“You’re dead, Trashmouth,” Henry spat. “You’re fucking dead. Grab him,” he
ordered Belch and Vic, who jumped to attention to please their oh so great
leader.
 
Belch grabbed Richie by the hoodie and Vic grabbed him by the arm while Patrick
shot up and grabbed his other arm, holding him up against the alley wall of the
movie theater. Henry got in his face, his foul breath stinking up Richie’s nose
and he gagged audibly, which only earned him a switchblade to his throat.
Richie didn’t even flinch, just  daring  him to with his eyes.
 
“You know, I gave you a fucking pass because sometimes Bobby gave us the good
stuff—“
 
“Fucking Bobby,” Richie spat to himself and the switchblade nicked his neck.
 
“SHUT UP!” Henry yelled. “But you, oh you, little Richie Trashmouth, just
couldn’t keep well enough to yourself. Always getting in my way, fucking my
shit up. You’re a fucking faggot, just like little Asthmatic Eddie here.”
Richie just noticed that Eddie had gone very quiet ever since he jumped into
the middle of things.
 
“Yeah, I’m a faggot,” said Richie. “It’s the fucking 21st Century, you mullet
wearing asshole, get with the fucking program already you white trash, back
alley, piece of shi—“ the switchblade cut deeper into his neck, a long bead of
blood trickling down into his collarbone.
 
Henry looked as if he was about to do more when suddenly he was pushed off of
him and the switchblade was removed from his neck. Richie looked up and saw
that it was his friends: Tom, Sammy, and even Bobby. It was Bobby who pushed
Henry Bowers away, a big brute of a senior who actually had a heart of gold but
sometimes did stupid shit, like sell to Bowers.
 
“Bobby! What the actual fuck, man?” Henry spat at Bobby, who towered over Henry
and was built like a brick house, even bigger than Belch. He was on the
football team and always wore his Derry High letterman jacket, like now.
 
“What do mean, Bowers?” Bobby asked. “I should ask  you  that, man. A
switchblade, really? What year do you think this is, 1958? I thought we had a
deal, man.”
 
“Deal? What deal?” Richie asked, his body still buzzing from the cocaine high
and the high he got from a fight, even when he just had a knife to his throat.
 
“He started it!” Henry spat. “He broke his fucking skateboard over my head!”
 
Bobby looked down to Eddie still curled up against the alley wall and seemed to
recognize him. He looked at Richie. “This one of your old friends, Richie
Rich?”
 
Richie nodded jerkily, sparing a crazed look at Eddie who was staring at him
with wide, brown eyes, like a doe’s. His lip was bleeding and he had a black
eye, but for an odd moment, Richie felt his heart squeeze inexplicably, so he
turned away.
 
Bobby looked at Bowers. “You were whaling on one of his old friends, dude.
What’d you expect?”
 
“Please,” Henry scoffed, but he and his gang began to back away. “He hasn’t
hung out with those Losers in years.”
 
Richie flung himself off the alley wall, ignoring the way his cut stung as he
moved. He jerked himself at Bowers, trying to throw another punch, feeling
absolutely unhinged from the drugs and tequila he’d taken, but Bobby and his
friends grabbed him and pulled him back.
 
“See!?” yelled Bowers. “He’s fucking crazy!”
 
“No, Bowers,” said Bobby. “You’re crazy. Now get outta here before I hurt you.”
 
Henry looked at him, and seemed to actually contemplate it before deciding it
wasn’t worth it and ran off with his gang, with their tails between their legs.
Bobby and the others let Richie go once they were gone and Richie rounded on
Bobby, pushing him, saying, “What fucking deal, Bobby?!”
 
“Dude, calm down,” Bobby was always trying to be the sane one, the leader of
their little ragtag group.
 
“Calm down? CALM DOWN? What fucking deal, Bobby?” Richie yelled, getting in his
face.
 
“Dude, are you high right now?”
 
In response, Richie sniffed and wiped his nose, giving his friends all the
information they needed. “What.  deal ?” Richie was going to ask one more time
before things got ugly.
 
Bobby sighed and exchanged a look with Tom and Sammy, who both looked
uncomfortable. “When you started hanging out with us, I made a deal with Bowers
that he wouldn’t whale on you if I sold to him on the side.”
 
It was quiet in that alley way for a moment. All Richie could hear was the very
quiet sniffling of Eddie, still huddled against the alleyway floor and wiping
at his bleeding lip. That was before Richie exploded. “WHAT?! You fucking did
WHAT?!” He pushed Bobby again, shoving him a few paces back, surprising all of
them. “I can take care of myself, you asshole! Why the  fuck  would you do
that?!”
 
“We’re friends, Richie. I didn’t want to see you get beat up everyday, you
dick.”
 
“Oh, I’m a dick? I’M A DICK?!”
 
“Jesus, Richie, calm down,” said Tom, grabbing his arm. “You’re on speed, dude.
You’re not thinking straight, you need to stop.”
 
Richie pushed him away. “You were in on it too, all three of you. Fuck you
guys!” He turned away and looked down at Eddie once again, his heart squeezing
once more but he ignored it. He knelt down and holding out a shaky hand. He
smiled, but it felt wrong on his face, crazed. “Come on, Eddie Spaghetti. Let
me take you home.”
 
Eddie just stared at him and his outstretched hand, before quietly whispering,
“Why?”
 
Richie was a little taken aback. Eddie hadn’t even tried to tell him to stop
calling him Eddie Spaghetti. “Why what, Eddie?”
 
“Why’d you help me? Stan told us what you said to him at detention today, how
you--you didn’t want to hang out with us.”
 
Richie winced inside. Yeah, he  had  said that. He’d honestly forgotten in the
moment. “I was just...being an asshole, Eddie. You know me.”
 
“Do I?” Eddie asked, but he finally took his hand and allowed Richie to pull
him to his feet, wincing and holding his bruised stomach.
 
Richie took one last look at his so-called “friends” before slinging an arm
around Eddie’s shoulders and steering him out of the alleyway, leaving them
behind. They didn’t even try to stop him, feeling as though they should just
let him go and take care of his old friend.
===============================================================================
Eddie couldn’t help but stare. That’s all he seemed to do these days: stare at
Richie. As he let Richie steer him out of the alleyway, and away from Richie’s
friends, Eddie felt his heart speed up until he thought for one crazy moment
that he was the one who took the cocaine, not Richie. Except, with the way
Richie was acting, it was obvious that he had. He kept sniffing and wiping his
nose, darting his large eyes around the street behind his glasses, looking
crazed. Eddie would have been afraid of him, maybe, except he just witnessed
Richie potentially saving his life. It had all seemed to slow down to a halt
when he saw Richie crack his skateboard over Bowers’ head, sending him reeling
to the ground. His heart had stopped, his breathing had stopped.  Everything
had stopped.
 
He had watched, terrified, as Bowers pulled a switchblade on him, nicking him
in the neck that was  still  bleeding. Eddie fought with himself to try and
reach over and apply pressure to the wound, stopping the bleeding. He figured
that would only freak Richie out in that moment. They didn’t say anything as
they walked to Eddie’s house, until they got to the front door, then Richie
said, “Is your Mom home? I hope she is, it’s been a long time since me and her-
-”
 
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie couldn’t help it, it just spilled out, but Richie
didn’t seem fazed by it. He just grinned at him and Eddie continued, “No, she’s
not home. She’s out with her friends, she won’t be back until late.”
 
“Your Mom has friends?” said Richie, still grinning as Eddie unlocked the door
and stepped inside. He looked up, surprised as Richie stepped inside also.
 
“Yeah, I know,  shocking ,” said Eddie, not helping the smile on his face. How
was it so easy to fall into a rhythm with Richie, when they’ve barely exchanged
a dozen words in the past four years and now they are joking and Richie’s in
his house, like old times.
 
Eddie walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet where all the medicine was
still held, even after all these years, along with a first aid kit. He heard
Richie banging around behind him and turned to see him holding a dish rag and
pouring some ice from the freezer into it. “What are you doing?” Eddie asked
him.
 
“We need to ice that black eye of yours, pal. It looks pretty gnarly, man,”
grinned Richie.
 
“And what about you,  man ?” teased Eddie, waving the first aid kit in his
face. “That cut on your neck is pretty  sick ,  man .”
 
Richie grinned and they exchanged the things in their hands. Eddie pressed the
cold compress to his face, wincing as he did so. It hurt, a lot. Eddie had
ignored it up until that point, focused solely on Richie and his all-
encompassing presence. Richie fumbled open the first aid kit and found the
antiseptic and started wiping at his cut, wincing a little also.
 
Eddie watched him, until he couldn’t contain it anymore. “Why’d you help me?”
He asked silently.
 
Richie looked up at him, as if he’d been lost in thought. “I told you, Eddie
Spaghetti.”
 
“Don’t call me that, and no, you didn’t. You avoided the question.”
 
“I didn’t avoid anything.”
 
“Bullshit,” said Eddie. “You avoid everything. You avoided us, for years. You--
you avoided  me .”
 
Richie stared at him, silent. Eddie thought it was so weird that Richie was
being so silent now, he was  never  silent when they were young,  never . “I
helped you, Eddie, because you ar-- were  my friend. I wasn’t going to stand
for Bowers beating up on you because you’re what? Different? Small?”
 
“Gay,” said Eddie quietly. “I’m gay, Richie.”
 
Richie paused, surprised. “You are?”
 
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Don’t act so surprised. You used to joke about it all
the time when we were kids.”
 
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually  were , not really,” he paused then
added quickly, “Not that I mind, of course.”
 
Eddie laughed a little. “I figured.”
 
Richie blinked. “Oh, right. I’m bisexual.”
 
“Yeah, yeah. You’re bisexual.”
 
Richie erupted into giggles. “I forgot about that for a second, oops.”
 
Eddie laughed. “You’re so fucking stupid, Trashmouth.”
 
“Yeah? Your  Mom  didn’t think so last night~” Richie waggled his eyebrows at
him and Eddie rolled his eyes again.
 
“Beep fucking beep Richie.”
 
Richie stuck out his tongue at him and they both laughed. Eddie felt his heart
clench and unclench at the sound of Richie’s laughter. Laughter just between
the two of them. It had been  so  long…
 
Their laughter died down after a few moments, and Richie just stared at him.
Like  stared . Eddie started to feel uncomfortable but he couldn’t look away
from his brown eyes, enlarged by his glasses and by the coke that was slowly
but surely filtering out of his system. It got quiet again, eerily quiet, and
for the first time, Eddie decided to fill the silence instead of Richie. “Hey,
Richie?”
 
Richie jerked himself out of whatever dazed he was in and said roughly, “Yeah?”
 
“Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t be mad at your friends for doing what they did,”
Eddie said, looking resolutely into his eyes although he wanted more than
anything to look at the floor, wishing for it swallow him up. He usually was
never one to back down from confrontation, if that even was what this was,
especially with Richie, but...things had changed.
 
Richie looked at him,  really  looked at him, and said, “That’s what you think,
Eds?”
 
“Don’t call me that,” automatic response, then, “Yeah, that’s what I think.
They didn’t mean to hurt you, I’d actually feel pretty flattered if my friends
had that much hold over Bowers to stop him from whaling on me.”
 
“You would, huh?”
 
“Yeah, I would. I  wish  that happened to me, then maybe my knees wouldn’t be
so fucking scraped up all the time and my Mom would stop looking at me like
that.”
 
“Like what?”
 
“Like, I’m a fucking disappointment. Like I disgust her because I’m gay--”
 
“Dude, seriously, did you learn nothing from the summer of ‘13?  Fuck your Mom
, for real. And I didn’t mean that as a joke, by the way.”
 
“Oh, you’re being serious for once in your fucking life?”
 
“Yeah,” Richie laughed, checking his wound to see if it stopped bleeding and it
had, so he pulled out a bandaid. “Yeah, for once in my fucking life I’m being
dead fucking serious. Your Mom is a total bitch, and I don’t mean that in a
good way. You remember how she treated me?”
 
Eddie smiled a sad smile. “Yeah, yeah I do.”
 
“I mean, to be fair, that’s how everyone treats me soooo....”
 
“Tha--that’s not true,” said Eddie abruptly. “I--I never treated you like
that...did I?”
 
Richie was silent for a moment as he put the bandaid over his cut, then he
said, “No, Eddie. No, you didn’t.”
 
“And I don’t think your friends treat you that way, either,” continued Eddie,
contented with the fact that he wasn’t one of the ones who treated Richie like
pure shit, despite all of their bickering. “You always seem so happy when
you’re with them…” Eddie trailed off, remembering how happy Richie used to be
with the Losers Club, laughing and joking with them, always there for you, even
if he acted like an asshole, like he proved to Eddie today. The soul of the
group, truly. It felt a little stale without Richie after all these years, to
be honest.
 
Richie looked off and seemed to be thinking about something. His eyes went
glazed for a moment before he shook himself and said, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re
right, Eds.”
 
“Don’t call me that. And of fucking course I am. I’ve always been right,
remember?” Eddie teased lightly, smiling haughtily at him.
 
Richie chuckled at him again and stared at him with an inexplicable expression
on his face. “Yeah, yeah you have been.” He looked around the kitchen for a
moment then said, “I, uh, I think I’m gonna go and, uh,  apologize  to my
friends. Are you going to be okay?”
 
“You mean after my Mom kills me for this black eye and takes me to the
emergency room?” Eddie laughed. “Yeah, I’m going to be okay. I’ve long since
been used to Bowers and his fucked up ways.”
 
Richie scoffed and shook his head. “Fucking Bowers. I’ll kill him if he ever
goes near you again, you understand? Just say the fucking word and I’ll end
him.”
 
“I, uh, don’t think we need to add  murder  to your list of offences, Richie.
Don’t worry about it. I can handle myself, have been all these years.”
 
Richie looked away awkwardly, and nodded. “Well, see ya around Eds.”
 
He was halfway out the door when Eddie called him back. “Richie?” He turned
around and they locked eyes, brown on brown, chocolate on chestnut and Eddie
said, “Thanks for today.  Really .”
 
Richie smiled, his first real, light up the world smile since he brought Eddie
home, making Eddie’s chest physically hurt and not just from the whaling Bowers
had given him earlier. “No problem, Eds. I’ll always be your knight in
tarnished armor.” And with that, he walked out the front door of Eddie’s house
and was gone.
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie whispered to the empty air.
===============================================================================
 
It was bizarre, so fucking bizarre.
 
Talking with Eddie like that, standing in his house just like old times, joking
around...It was almost as if Richie had never left, had never  abandoned  him,
because that’s what he did, he  abandoned  him, abandoned all of them. Richie
had never thought it about it that way before, but when he looked into Eddie’s
face that late afternoon, bruised and bloodied, and saw the look in his eyes,
the desperate sadness in them that Richie was sure Eddie didn’t even know he
projected, he knew what he had done.
 
And he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t look back, he just couldn’t. It
was too late for that…
 
He left Eddie’s house with this tight feeling in his chest that wouldn’t go
away, no matter how much he tried to focus on other things. It stayed there,
like a bad itch, never letting up, never giving Richie peace.
 
As Richie walked with his hands in his hoodie, heading to the one place he knew
where his friends would be at this time of day, he thought about Eddie and just
how... iridescent  he looked that day. There was no other word for it, Eddie
was iridescent. Now that Richie thought about it, Eddie had always been
iridescent, glowing in a different way than the other Losers. Ever since Richie
could remember, he had always thought Eddie was beautiful, inside and out.
Everything from his hypochondria to his asthma and stinging attitude that
always seemed to fit Richie’s so perfectly.
 
He always had a feeling Eddie’s Mother could see what he thought of her boy,
which was why she always hated him most of all. Richie couldn’t understand why.
Shouldn’t she be happy that someone thought Eddie should be as cherished as she
thought he did? Although Richie would never hold Eddie back the way she did,
never letting him do anything fun or heaven forbid, be a kid.
 
Richie saw the haunted look on Eddie’s face in his mind’s eye when he mentioned
his Mother and how she looked at him with so much disappointment now that she
knew that he was gay. Eddie, his little Eddie Spaghetti, gay.
 
Richie paused. Did he just fucking call Eddie  his ? He shook himself, trying
to will that particular train of thought away. It wouldn’t do good to dwell on
that, not now, not ever.
 
He focused his mind on something else, like what he was going to say to his
friends now that his high was wearing off. He always knew that doing blow for
him was a bad idea, what with his ADHD and sometimes disturbed mental state,
but he couldn’t help it. He was destroying his life, just like he was always
meant to. It was practically written in the stars from the day of his birth.
Richie was only giving the cosmos what they wanted, after all.
 
He spotted his friends just where he knew they’d be, shooting the shit in the
park, although they looked decidedly subdued. Tom was the first one to notice
Richie walking up, and took in his unusually quiet state and motioned to the
other guys.
 
“Hey, Richie,” said Tom hesitantly, as if expecting another fight. “Your friend
okay?”
 
“He’s not my friend,” said Richie automatically and instantly regretted it. “I
mean—yeah, he’s okay. A little bruised but he’ll be fine.”
 
“Good,” said Tom, looking at the others. “That’s good.”
 
Silence filled the air, awkward and heavy, until Richie finally spoke. “Guys,
I’m—I’m really sorry for the way I acted earlier. I was high and—“
 
Bobby held up a hand, smiling a little. “Say no more, Richie Rich. We’re not
mad at you or anything. We understood your anger. It was wrong of me to go
behind your back like that and I promise to never associate with fucking Bowers
ever again.”
 
Richie gave a wry smile. “Even if he beats the shit outta me?”
 
“We’ll beat the shit outta him first,” said Sammy vehemently. “We gotta stand
up for our own, right?”
 
“Right.”
 
“Now, come on. Let’s get shitfaced and forget all about it, man,” said Tom,
holding up a bottle of cheap wine.
 
Richie grinned. “What are we, high society chaps? Pip pip and tally ho, my good
fellows. It’s time to get blackout drunk and maybe a little sky high!”
 
Bobby smiled wide and clapped him on the back. “There he is.”
 
Richie grinned wider and tried to ignore that aching in his chest, pulling him
backwards, pulling him towards  him . He grabbed the bottle of wine out of
Tom’s hand and chugged. Chugged until he could feel nothing but pure light.


Chapter End Notes
     You know, Richie's friends are actually good guys just...lost
     too...they all need some help whether they know it or not...
     song - always gold by radical face
***** i know you hurt too but what else can we do, tormented and torn apart
*****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The rest of the week for Richie was pretty much of the same. He stayed out late
with his friends, got shitfaced drunk, then went to school the next morning
hungover as hell, feeling as though his head was about to pound of out his
skull, but he didn’t stop.  Couldn’t  stop. He finished his second day of
detention with flying colors, even coming early so they couldn’t give an excuse
to give him another one, then he went to Bobby’s house and did blow till his
nose felt raw. Richie’s parents didn’t know or didn’t care about their son’s
activities, not that it mattered much to him anyway. It already felt like they
had died or something, for they were never around anyways, and never talked or
looked at him when they were, the fuckers.
 
Richie did his best to avoid the Losers Club, bar Bev, because well, he could
never really shake Bev, no matter how hard he tried. The one person he really
didn’t want to shake off, he did, and they hadn’t so much as looked in each
other’s direction since that day after school on Monday. Richie did what he
always did, he avoided.
 
Just like Eddie said.
 
Fucking Eddie…
 
Richie  especially  avoided thinking about him: about his curly, brown hair, or
his small frame, or his soft lips (Richie bet a million dollars they were as
soft as silk), or the pastels that he wore. No, Richie avoided thinking about
any  of that. Not at school, not at home,  definitely  not while he was
shitfaced with his friends. And if he staggered home every night by his house,
pausing for a minute to look up into his bedroom window, light off, then that
was nobody’s business but his own.
 
On Wednesdays and Thursdays, Richie worked his shitty job at the shitty gas
station that was one of the first things one saw as they passed the sign that
said: Welcome to Derry! And underneath that, Richie and his friends had spray
painted once: Beware! Your soul  dies  here! No one ever found out it was them,
though there were definitely people who suspected. They still hadn’t painted
over it yet, and it had been  months . Just another reason in a long list of
reasons that the people in Derry just really didn’t give one flying shit.
 
Richie had Bobby drive him to work, since the walk was too far from school for
him not to be there late and his beloved skateboard was broken over the head of
one Henry fucking Bowers. There was no way Richie was ever going to be able to
replace it, not with the way his money went to drugs, cigarettes, alcohol, and
the basic necessities of food and toilet paper. Bobby was more than happy to,
always willing to help a friend out, especially with one as lost as Richie.
Richie suspected, out of all of his friends, he was the one that was the most
fucked up.
 
He worked from four to six and got paid minimum wage, barely enough to scrape
by, but Richie was nothing if not a good saver... annndddd  he occasionally
filched the rich people’s wallets, but that was only when he was like  really
desperate. Like today, Friday. It was after school and he was killing some time
until he met up with his friends again. His leather jacket was on, for it was
absolutely freezing out in Derry, Maine, and he was loitering outside the movie
theater, smoking his sixth cigarette of the day, and it wasn’t even five
o’clock yet. It was also his last cigarette and he had no money left to buy
more. His face was impassive as he stood outside the movie theater, but inside
he was panicking, big time. Like full on, Eddie-style panicking. He wanted more
cigarettes--no he  needed  more cigarettes. Sue him, but he was addicted to the
little cancer sticks, like a lot of other things. He knew, rationally, that he
should just wait until Bobby came by in his truck and ask him for the few bucks
to buy more, because Bobby was always willing to fork out money to his cancer
addiction, considering he also had one, but on that particular day, Richie
couldn’t wait. He needed the money,  now .
 
And as he stood outside the movie theater, surveying the main street of Derry,
he saw his perfect target. This lady was sitting on one of the benches outside
one of the many corner stores, this one was special though. It was one of the
expensive ones, one that only rich people could even begin to afford. And this
lady looked rich. She had perfectly styled hair, a blowout as Bev had told him
once, and a nice expensive looking winter coat. She was rummaging through her
purse while talking on the most recent (and most expensive) iPhone on the
market and she seemed to be arguing with someone. Richie smirked, easy peasy.
He stubbed out his cigarette and made his way across the street and sat next to
her on the bench, making himself look lost and small, which was a bit of a
challenge.
 
The lady seemed to have found what she was looking for, a piece of paper with a
number written on it, and when she pulled her hand out of her nice leather
purse, her wallet slid halfway out, ripe for the taking. Richie glanced at her
and saw that she was looking in the complete opposite direction, completely
oblivious to him and his intentions. And then, it was as simple as sliding his
hand swiftly inside her purse and nicking her wallet, quickly stuffing it in
the inside pocket of his jacket and getting up and walking away. The lady never
knew what hit her and she would never know it was Richie.
 
Richie walked down the street, grinning wide at the feel of the heavy wallet
pressed inside his jacket, high on the feeling of stealing and not getting
caught. He spotted a familiar redhead walking out of the drug store and grinned
even wider, picking up his pace until he was far away from the lady and towards
Bev.
 
“Hey! Hey, Bev!” He called, waving one leather clad arm.
 
Bev turned around and looked up. She was texting on her phone. She smiled when
she saw him, “Hey, Loser!” She reached up and ruffled his messy black curls.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
 
“Nothing, Bev-Bev,” he said. He wasn’t about to mention his most recent
activity, he had a feeling she wouldn’t exactly approve, no matter how cool she
was with getting high and stuff. “Just taking a nice stroll through this shitty
town, ya know? What about you? Got your kotex in there or what?” He reached for
her drug store bag but she swatted him away with a “Beep beep, Richie.”
 
“No, seriously, what’s in the bag?”
 
“Just girl stuff, Trashmouth. None of your concern,” Bev said. Her face turned
serious and Richie felt his heart pick up. “Hey, I, uh, I never got the chance
to thank you, ya know, for helping Eddie the other day with fucking Bowers?”
 
Richie scoffed. “Fucking Bowers.” Then he shrugged, he had figured Eddie hadn’t
told the other Losers about what had transpired between them Monday, seeing as
though none of them said anything to him, but of course he did. “It’s okay. I
won’t let anyone get whaled on by fucking Bowers, Bev.”
 
“Well, anyways,  thank you . Eddie told us not to say anything to you, but I
just wanted to say anyways. Things haven’t been easy for him, ya know. Being--”
 
“Gay. Yeah, he told me,” said Richie, looking anywhere but Bev’s face, which he
felt could read his innermost thoughts just by looking into his eyes. “Is he--
is he okay?”
 
“Who? Eddie?”
 
“No, fucking Bowers. Of course Eddie, ya numbnuts!”
 
Bev laughed. “Yeah, he’s okay. A little bruised, but he’ll heal. We all do.”
Richie had a feeling that last line was meant for him, but he ignored it.
 
“Well, that’s good—for Eds, I mean,” said Richie awkwardly. When did he get so
awkward? “I, uh, gotta go meet with my friends.”
 
“What are you guys doing?” Bev asked.
 
“Party tonight,” said Richie. “At Sammy’s house.”
 
“A party? That’s cool.”
 
“Yeah. You can come if you want…”
 
“Can I bring the other Losers?”
 
“Um, sure, if they want to that is,” Richie wanted to scream no! No! What if he
saw Eddie there, while he wasted? What would he do? Richie tried to reconcile
himself with the fact that Eddie probably wouldn’t come. Parties didn’t seem
like his kind of scene.
 
“Cool,” Bev smiled bright, then her phone dinged and she looked down frowned
slightly. “Ah, shit. I have to go. I promised my Aunt I’d help her set up the
house for her annual ‘Adults Only’ Halloween party. What time is the party at
Sammy’s?”
 
“9:30. And it’s 80s themed.”
 
“9:30 and 80s themed, got it,” just at that moment, Bobby’s truck came roaring
down the street and stopped next to where Bev and Richie were standing.
 
“Hey, Bev,” said Bobby, a little nervously. It was no secret to the group that
he had a huge crush on her. “Need a lift home?”
 
“No, thanks Bobby,” said Bev nicely. “Home isn’t that far of a walk.”
 
“Really, it’s no troub—“ he got cut off by Sammy hitting him in the arm and he
glared at him. “I mean, okay. See you, Bev.”
 
“See you tonight,” and then Bev was gone down the street.
 
Richie hopped into the back of the truck with Tom who immediately slung his arm
around Richie’s shoulders as Bobby pulled away and asked, “Tonight? Did you—”
 
“Invite her to the party tonight? Yes,” said Richie, stealing a smoke from
Tom’s pack and lighting up, letting the acrid smoke fill his lungs.
 
“Awesome, dude. You’re just—awesome!” Bobby crowed, steering them towards
Sammy’s empty house. His parents were gone  somewhere  for the weekend, and
Sammy decided to throw a Halloween rager before the less exciting Halloween
dance at school on Tuesday.
 
“So, Bobby already bought four kegs. They’re in the back and I bought streamers
and a ‘Totally 80s’ CD, plus a few playlists on my phone. Tom brought the party
lights and the drugs, Michelle is bringing the other drinks and a few 80s
clothes for us and you—“
 
“Are bringing my awesome wit and jokes, got it!” said Richie.
 
Sammy rolled his eyes but nodded as they pulled into his driveway. They helped
Bobby roll the kegs out into the backyard and then began setting up the house:
stringing up the lights and streamers, clearing off the living room of anything
breakable (just because Sammy’s parents were neglectful didn’t mean they
wouldn’t punish their son if their heirlooms got broken), set up the bar full
of all kinds of drinks that Michelle got from the liquor store for free because
she blew the clerk.
 
“Gross, ‘Chelle,” Richie has said when Michelle told them as they helped heave
in the bags full of booze into the house. “The dude’s like forty.”
 
“Forty- five  and he has a nice dick, so I wasn’t complaining...besides,
haven’t you done worse?” Michelle teased.
 
Richie stuck his tongue out at her but said nothing, cracking open a beer at 7:
45, after getting ready in his dirty jeans and Converse and his leather jacket,
with nothing underneath. He gelled his hair in an 80s style with help from
Michelle and they shared a blunt, while the others got ready. Sammy was going
as Marty McFly and Bobby was going as Emilio Estevez from the Breakfast Club
since he already had blue letterman jacket, and Tom was going as Richie’s 80s
twin, since they looked so much alike anyways.
 
As per usual with a party, there were people who showed up early, around 8:30,
by the time 9:30 rolled around the party was in full swing, music blasting and
people grinding on the dance floor (the cleared out living room space). Richie
was well on his way to blackout drunk, with his prescription sunglasses on his
face, dancing to Thriller with his friends and some girl grinding against his
groin when he spotted the old Losers Club walk through the front door, fighting
themselves through the throngs of drunk and high people. Richie froze in his
dancing when he saw Eddie there, looking very uncomfortable but very cute in an
old 80s pastel sweatshirt that Richie suspected was meant for a girl, and acid
wash jeans with a cute little pastel yellow fanny pack clipped around his
waist.
 
Richie unceremoniously shoved the girl off his groin and stumbled over to them,
screaming at Bev over the music. “Bev! Heeeyyyyy Bev-Bev! Sooooo glad you could
make it!” He slurred, a red solo cup of vodka and Coke in his hand and an
ecstasy pill dissolved on his tongue.
 
Beverly looked beautiful. She coiffed her hair in a perfect, curly 80s style,
looking like Molly Ringwald from Breakfast Club except with longer hair. Richie
spared a thought that Bobby would be excited, except sorely disappointed
because Ben was dressed in a convincing outfit of Judd Nelson’s Bender  and
they were holding hands. Richie stumbled into them, almost spilling his drink
all over them but stopping it in the last second.
 
“Woah, slow down there punk,” Bev laughed, straightening him. “How much have
you had to drink?”
 
“Not much,” Richie slurred. At her disbelieving eyebrow raise, he continued,
“Not much, I swear! Just a few beers and couple of vodkas and Coke.”
 
“A couple?”
 
“Okay, like four. You want?” He shoved his cup into Bev’s hand. “I can get
another.”
 
“Um, sure,” Bev took a sip and then looked at him. “This is more vodka than
Coke.”
 
“I know, it’s great right?” He looked past her,  and saw Eddie staring at him
with his big brown doe eyes and he grinned, so drunk he forgot he was supposed
to be avoiding him. “EDDIE! Eds! Eddie Spaghetti!”
===============================================================================
Eddie wanted to grimace, to show that he was displeased that Richie was so
drunk, but he couldn’t help but smile a little at his enthusiasm. Richie had
always had enthusiasm, it was infectious. Richie reached past Bev and Ben and
grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his friends. “Come on! Let’s get you
drunk, Spaghetti Man!”
 
“That’s not my name!” Eddie protested but let him pull him away, after sparing
a glance at Bev who just gave him a thumbs up as he was dragged away.
 
“Come on, come on,” Richie was saying. “Let’s get you some spoopy juice.”
 
“Uh,  spoopy juice ?” Eddie asked as Richie pulled him to a glass bowl filled
with some sort of orange looking punch.
 
“Yeah,” said Richie, clumsily pouring Eddie a cup. “Don’t, uh, don’t ask what’s
in it. Might upset your delicate sensibilities.”
 
“I’m not delicate,” Eddie mumbled and grabbed the cup from him, chugging it in
one go. He sputtered a little as the alcohol went down his throat but didn’t
spit it out.
 
Richie whooped at him and poured him a refill. As he handed him back the cup,
he said hesitantly, “Your face is looking better.”
 
That was true. His black eye was easing up and Bev had spent a good twenty
minutes that night trying to cover the worst of it up with concealer and his
split lip was healing fine. It didn’t even hurt when he put on his Strawberry
Lip Smackers just before he left, it sitting comfortably in his fanny pack that
he had found a long time ago in the town’s thrift store when he still used one
for his all of his medicine and inhaler.
 
“Yeah, thanks,” said Eddie, taking smaller gulps of the spoopy juice but still
finishing it rather quickly. He was already beginning to feel the effects, it
probably wasn’t good that he hadn’t eaten since lunch and whatever in that
juice was most likely incredibly strong.
 
“Your Mom kill you?” Richie slurred, leaning in close. So close, Eddie could
swear Richie could feel his pounding heartbeat through his clothes.
 
“Um, almost. She took me to the emergency room, like I said.”
 
“Ouch. That sucks  major  ass,” said Richie, rocking a little to the next song
that was playing. Eddie tried with all his might not to look at Richie’s
exposed stomach underneath his leather jacket.
 
“Yeah, it did. It’s a miracle my Mom even let me go out tonight, mostly because
I told her we were just spending the night at Bill’s.”
 
Richie grinned and nudged him with his elbow in the side. “Ooh. Bad boy, I like
it. Your Mom likes it too, she told me.”
 
“Shut up,” Eddie laughed, taking a large gulp of the juice.
 
Silence ensued for a moment before another song started and Richie lit up,
grabbing Eddie’s hand. Eddie nearly gasped. It felt like electricity ran
through their hands like a current and he  knew  that Richie felt it too, for
their eyes locked for a moment. Eddie thought maybe Richie would pull away but
he didn’t, he only pulled him in closer. “Hey,” Richie said, his voice smoky.
“You wanna dance?”
 
“You wanna dance, with me?” Eddie squeaked. At Richie’s silent nod, he said, “I
have to warn you, I’m a terrible dancer.”
 
Richie laughed. “I doubt that,” he said, pulling him to the dance floor as
‘Should I Stay or Should I Go’ by The Clash blared through the state of the art
speakers in Sammy’s house. “Just—move your body to the music, like this—“
Richie began rocking his body in a fluid grace movement that Eddie didn’t know
Richie possessed but he was pleasantly surprised. Richie grabbed his hand again
and there it was, that electricity. Richie and Eddie began moving to the beat,
Eddie a little awkwardly but Richie seemed to appreciate it so Eddie didn’t
stop.
 
They danced wildly to a few songs until one came on that made them pause and
look at each other in wonder. It was  their  song, from when they were little
and exploring Richie’s Dad’s old cassettes.
 
It was ‘Africa’ by Toto.
===============================================================================
Richie was rolling. He was rolling on the ecstasy he had taken that was really
beginning to affect him, if the way he was seeing Eddie was any indication. As
‘Africa’ began to play around him, he watched as Eddie began to glow again, a
halo forming around his body, even with his sunglasses on his face.
 
Iridescent…
 
Richie couldn’t help himself. The logical part of his brain, that was very much
silenced in this moment, was trying to scream at him to leave Eddie alone, to
not mix him up with Richie, because it was only going to lead to heartbreak,
but Richie didn’t listen. He listened to high side of his brain (and his heart)
that was screaming for him to take Eddie’s hand and dance with him,  really
dance with him. After all, this was  their  song…
 
“My lord,” Richie grinned, holding out a hand for Eddie to take, “would you do
me thy greatest honor of dancing with me?”
 
Eddie laughed, “We are already are dancing, idiot.” But he took Richie’s hand
nonetheless and laughed even louder as Richie spun him into his arms, ever the
charmer. Richie grinned at Eddie’s laugh. He’d forgotten how much he’d loved
the sound. How much he missed it…
 
Richie twirled Eddie again and then they started to slow dance, Richie putting
his hands on Eddie’s hips and Eddie hesitantly putting his arms around Richie’s
neck. Eddie didn’t really know what to do, which Richie thought was adorable,
so he lead him and it was--
 
Magnetic .
 
“Remember when we used to listen to this song all the time in your parent’s
garage?” Eddie was asking as they danced. “You’d do the weirdest dance moves:
the monkey bars, the peace signs, the ‘rockstar’ as you called it, and you
always tried to get me to join in.”
 
Richie laughed. “Yeah. And I remember you never did, you’d just watch me and
laugh. I was beginning to think you thought my dancing was horrible.”
 
“Oh, it  was  horrible,” Eddie said, grinning.
 
“Oh, yeah? What about now?” Richie whispered, bringing his face close to
Eddie’s their noses barely starting to brush against one another. Just a little
further and Richie could be touching those plush lips, so starkly different to
his chapped ones.
 
“I--” Eddie began. Richie leaned in further, he had a feeling that what Eddie
was going to say was going to be meaningful, it always was. Eddie opened his
mouth, “It’s not so bad now. You got rhythm this time.”
 
Richie threw his head back and laughed. He loved Eddie and his sass. “Oh, I got
rhythm  this  time, you say?”
 
“Yeah, this time.” Richie watched him giggle for a moment and his heart did
that thing again. It got all tight and suddenly, Richie needed to say
something. Something profound. Something to make up for the years that he
wasn’t around.
 
“Eddie?” Richie said, quieter now that Eddie had to lean in to hear him.
 
“Yeah?”
 
“I--” But he didn’t get far, for suddenly ‘Africa’ ended and ‘I’m So Excited’
began, and Richie felt an arm that wasn’t Eddie’s wrap around his shoulder,
cutting him off.
 
“Hey, dude, sorry to interrupt, but Michelle is throwing up in the bushes
outside and Sammy will kill her if you don’t take care of it,” it was Tom, and
Richie wanted to kill him in that moment, but he saw the genuine remorsefulness
in his eyes, so he decided to forgive him.
 
He turned to Eddie, and saw that whatever spell that was between them had been
broken, for he was already backing away with a tight smile on his face. “You
go,” Eddie said. “I’m gonna go--find my friends.”
 
Richie’s chest ached for a moment at the way Eddie said “ my friends ” but he
knew it shouldn’t. Eddie was right, they weren’t Richie’s friends anymore,
Eddie  wasn’t Richie’s friend anymore, so why the hell was he dancing with him?
Why did he want to--
 
“Dude, are you gonna go or what?” Tom was saying, looking at him expectantly.
 
Richie turned to him and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.
I’m going.” He spared another look in Eddie’s direction, but when he looked his
way, he was already gone, lost in the sea of people.
 
He found Michelle passed out in the bushes and quickly picked her up through
his own drunken haze, carrying her through the house and into Sammy’s bedroom,
gently laying her down on his bed. He drunkenly wiped away the vomit around her
lips and pulled Sammy’s comforter over her, staying with her for a few minutes
to make sure she was breathing okay because he had no idea what she took before
leaving the room, but not before locking the door. You never knew what kind of
sickos came out at night at a party…
 
He went back downstairs, Whitney Houston blasting on the speakers and throngs
of drunken people dancing their asses off to the music. Richie loved it when
parties got like this, he absolutely  thrived  off the energy that the people
exuded. He jumped back into the fray, jumping and jiving his body to the music
and screaming “I wanna dance with somebody!” with all the others. He danced for
like, ten songs, breathless and sweaty, until he spotted the other Losers
through his drunken haze.
 
He spotted Bill and Stan in the corner, Bill dressed as Teen Wolf and Stan as
an 80s preppy boy (of course), with Bill lightly kissing Stan on the lips,
grinning at the way Stan grinned, both of them holding one of the weaker beers
in their hands. Bev and Ben were on the dance floor with Richie, and Ben was
absolutely killing it at the robot, much to the delight of the onlookers. Mike
was there too, cheering Ben on, dressed as Michael Jackson’s ‘Billie Jean’.
Richie thought he looked cool. He was sorely disappointed though, when he
didn’t see Eddie around again, at least for his first look around the room.
 
He danced up to Bev, leaning precariously over her. He was overcome with an
urge to run his hands through her hair, for he knew that it was as soft as a
rose, but he caught Ben’s eye and thought better of it, which was a feat
considering his high mind. “Hey, Bev-Bev! Where’s Eddie Spaghetti?”
 
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I thought he was with you.”
 
Oh shit!
 
Richie nearly ran to Stan and Bill, still exchanging loving kisses in the
corner. “Hey! Hey guys! Where’s Eddie?”
 
They nearly jumped apart with surprise, but when they saw it was him, they
calmed down considerably. Bill looked at him and stuttered, “W-we thought he
wa-was with you.”
 
Richie was now incredibly agitated. These guys were useless, utterly useless.
Didn’t they know they needed to make sure Eddie didn’t do anything stupid?
 
Like dance with you  said a vindictive voice in his head, but he pushed it
away.
 
“Well, he’s not. He’s not with Bev, Ben, or Mike either,” Richie was sobering
up. What if Eddie was cornered by some bully or worse, by a potential suitor,
trying to fend them off but they wouldn’t budge.
 
“Check the bathroom,” said Stan, already turning back to Bill. “He sometimes
goes there when things get too much for him, probably like this party.”
 
Richie ignored the slight jab and turned away, heading for the bathroom. Why
didn’t he think of that? Of fucking course Eddie would be there, probably
having a panic attack. He came upon the first floor bathroom and jerked it
open, not even sparing a thought to think that someone might be on the toilet
or making out in there.
 
Oh, there was somebody making out in there...and it was Eddie.
 
Eddie, looking rumpled and drunk, kissing the lips of one Adrian Taylor, the
school’s resident girly boy. They seemed really into it, until Richie had
busted the door open and they jumped apart. Adrian looked at him, angry, “Um,
what the hell, dude? Ever heard of knocking?”
 
Eddie looked up at him, drunk and in seeming shock. He was desperately trying
to right his sweatshirt, which was rucked up around his navel. Richie smiled
tightly, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach, as if he needed the toilet that
Eddie was currently sat on. “Sorry, I was just looking for my friend. And I
found him.” he reached inside the bathroom and grabbed Eddie’s arm, pulling him
out, despite his protests.
 
Richie pulled him all the way through the dance floor, an iron grip on Eddie’s
arm, with Eddie fighting him all the while, angry and drunk. Finally, once they
were up the steps to the second story of the house, Eddie pulled himself away.
“WHAT THE HELL, RICHIE?!” He screamed, drunk out of his mind.
 
“Are you seriously asking  me  that?” Richie was angry, so angry, and he didn’t
even know why...at least he thought he didn’t. “Adrian Taylor, really?”
 
“Why the fuck do you care?!” Eddie screamed drunkenly. “You’re not even my
friend anymore.”
 
“Eddi--”
 
“NO! No, Richie! You--you  ignored  me, ignored  all of us  for FOUR YEARS!
For, like, no reason at all! No fucking reason! You didn’t call, you didn’t
explain, you just left us. You left--you left  me .” Eddie looked so broken by
that statement that Richie just wanted to wrap him in his arms and never let
go. But Eddie continued, “It--IT’S  BULLSHIT !”
 
“Eds--”
 
“Don’t fucking call me that!” Eddie screamed. “It’s  bullshit. You’re bullshit
. You can’t ignore me for four fucking years and then suddenly appear in my
life and tell me what to do or who to--who to  fuck ! I’ve never told  you
that, although you could  do so much better  than fucking Michelle! Adrian
never  ignored me. He’s my friend, and I--I wanted to kiss him for a  long
time, a  looooonnnggg  time, you ass! You ruined  everything!  You always ruin
everything! I HATE YOU!”
 
Silence ensued. Richie felt as if something had just taken his heart and ripped
it into a million pieces and then stomped on it, before stuffing it back in his
chest, smashed and broken. Eddie just looked at him, drunk and resolute,
sniffing a little bit at the tears that escaped his eyes. Richie set his jaw,
feeling angry again and mean. “Fine,” he said. “Go back to that fucking pussy
and I’ll gladly get out of your life again.”
 
“ Good!”  screamed Eddie, and he stomped off, clutching to the wall for
support.
 
Richie stood there and watched him go, feeling his own tears threatening to
fall. How did everything go  so wrong, so fast ? He hated himself, more than
ever, and all he wanted to do was to drown himself. Drown himself in liquor and
drugs, until he couldn’t feel anymore. Couldn’t feel the way Eddie had just--
had just--
 
Broken his heart .
Chapter End Notes
     sorry guys :(
     this is supposed to be a very angsty story, so there's that...
     on a happier note: have any of y'all binged season 2 of Stranger
     Things? Episode One is what inspired this chapter:)
     song - all out of love by air supply
***** spend my days locked in a haze, trying to forget you babe *****
Chapter Notes
     check out my tumblr for updates and other goodies: http://
     lookingaroundforlife.tumblr.com/
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Come on, man. You need to get up,” Someone was speaking to him, but for the
life of him, he couldn’t tell who it was. Richie’s head was all fuzzy and his
mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. He was lying... somewhere ...his
back resting on something hard. Like a floor, yeah a floor.
 
“Huh?” Richie’s reply came garbled. He couldn’t see who it was who was talking
to him. His sunglasses had disappeared on him sometime in the night, during the
party.
 
The party…
 
Oh shit  he thought, and instantly shot up and puked, all over the person’s
shoes.
 
“Richie! What the fuck, dude?!” Now, Richie recognized that voice through his
puking haze. It was Tom and he had just puked all over his Converse.
 
“Tom,” he choked out. “S—sorry, man.” He collapsed back down on the floor but
Tom wasn’t having it, grabbing his arm and hauling him up.
 
“Uh-uh,” said Tom, supporting him up. “We gotta sober you up, man and clean
Sammy’s house up... and  my fucking shoes.”
 
Richie groaned, leaning his head in the juncture of Tom’s neck. “I’m really,
really fucking sorry.”
 
Tom laughed and he half dragged him to the couch, which was miraculously devoid
of people, at least that Richie could see. Tom settled Richie into the couch
and then pulled something out of his leather jacket pocket. “Here,” he said. “I
figured you’d misplace them in the night so I put them on my person.” Richie
squinted up at him, uncomprehending, until he felt more than saw Tom lean
forward and press something on his face.
 
His glasses.
 
Richie could see Tom clearly now, and he almost laughed if that wouldn’t hurt
the Conga drum beat in his head at the moment. Tom looked almost as bad as he
felt. His hair was sticking up in every direction and his leather jacket was
askew. His eyes were severely bloodshot and there were dark circles underneath,
almost as bad as Richie’s perpetual ones. Richie looked down and grimaced, his
puke was absolutely  covering  Tom’s Converse, though he seemed pretty
nonplussed about it. To be fair, Tom had done worse to Richie.
 
“Hey, Richie Rich!” said Bobby from behind the couch. Bobby  never  seemed to
have a hangover, the fucker, and he was smiling wide as he shoved red solo cups
in a large black garbage bag. “You were absolutely  wild  last night! You did
two  keg stands, danced on the coffee table to ‘Sweet Dreams’ and snorted so
much coke, I thought you’re nose was going to fall off!” Now that Bobby
mentioned it, Richie’s nose was feeling a little raw.
 
“Yeah, you even made out with Gretta fucking Keene!” laughed Tom, looking too
delighted at his pain.
 
“I DID  WHAT ?!” Richie yelled, then immediately regretted it.
 
“Ha, yeah! She looked as if she was about to pass out from shock and your old
friends did too…” at that Bobby trailed off, awkward.
 
Richie saw the look he and Tom exchanged and groaned. “What?” he asked.
“Fucking what?”
 
“Well, after  that  display, Bev threw her drink in your face and stormed out
with the others. They had to basically drag the small one away, he was so
wasted.”
 
“Eddie,” Richie whispered. “His name is Eddie.”
 
He remembered. He remembered everything that transpired between the two of
them. The dancing, the almost...the makeout between Eddie and Adrian fucking
Taylor, the fight, the words that he and Eddie exchanged. All of it.
 
And it hurt, so fucking much. So much more than his hangover from hell.
 
“Huh?” asked Tom, having not heard him.
 
“Nothing,” Richie grimaced more than smiled and continued, “Well, will someone
give me some fucking aspirin so I can help?”
 
“I got you!” yelled Sammy from the kitchen. A few moments later he appeared
with a glass of water and four aspirin in his hand. He handed them to a
grateful Richie then looked at the living room floor.
 
“WHO FUCKING RALPHED ALL OVER THE FLOOR?!”
===============================================================================
Eddie’s head was pounding out a beat in his head, like some kind of African
drum. Someone had opened the curtains in the living room at Bill’s and he
groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, pouting pitifully. “Close the
fucking blinds!” he yelled at someone, anyone.
 
“You doing okay, Eddie?” This voice was full of concern. It was Beverly and
Eddie peered out of the blanket to glare at her.
 
“I feel like absolute shit, thanks for asking. How much did I drink last
night?”
 
Bev exchanged a worried look with someone to her right and Eddie peered further
out to see it was Bill, looking at him with his arms crossed, a sad expression
on his face. “What?” Eddie asked, looking at the group in full now. Ben was
decidedly looking anywhere but his face, Stan looked angry but not at him, and
Mike looked concerned like Bev. “Fucking what?”
 
“Y—you don’t remember?” Bill asked.
 
“Remember what?”
 
“You were shitfaced last night,” said Stan bluntly. “And you came to me and
Bill, crying about Richie.”
 
Eddie froze. Now he remembered. He remembered everything in vivid detail: the
dancing, Richie leaving to go help fucking  Michelle , Eddie getting jealous
and drunk, Adrian Taylor flirting with him (like always), going to makeout with
him, Richie finding him and the ensuing fight. God, Eddie had said some pretty
mean things to him. True things, but mean nonetheless.
 
“Despite that,” Stan continued, “you wouldn’t let us leave. You were determined
to have a good time, until…” he trailed of.
 
Eddie remembered.
 
Richie fucking making out with fucking Gretta fucking Keene. He remembered
bursting into tears at the display. How could he? Gretta fucking Keene?! The
same one who treated him like absolute garbage all their middle school careers?
And Bev too?
 
Bev grit her teeth. “I’m going to kill him,” she said angrily.
 
“You al-already threw you—your drink in his face,” Bill smiled slightly, trying
to ease the mood, but that did little.
 
“No,” said Bev resolutely. “He needs killing.”
 
“No,” Eddie groaned. “He was probably just—just pissed at me and wanted
revenge.”
 
Bill looked at him. “Y-you never actually t-told us what hap-happened, just
that you t-two got in a fight.”
 
“What happened, Eddie?” Bev asked quietly, resting a calming hand on his
covered shoulder.
 
“Give me some fucking aspirin and I’ll tell you.”
 
Without a word, Bev reached over to the side table by the couch that Eddie was
currently on and passed him four aspirin and a glass of water. Eddie gulped
them down and sighed, feeling the Losers eye’s on him. “You guys aren’t going
to let up unless I tell you, right?” He asked.
 
“No,” said the Losers in unison.
 
Eddie sighed again and looked down at his glass of water, wanting to drown
himself in it. “Well, this may come as a surprise to everyone but Bev, but I
have— had —this huge crush on Richie—” He was lying to himself. Despite
everything that had transpired the night before, he was still head over heels
for Richie, and he had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
 
“It’s not a surprise,” said Stan bluntly. “We  all  knew.”
 
“You did?!”
 
The Losers nodded and Eddie groaned, tilting his head back onto the couch.
“Well, since you guys know that, you should know that it was my fucking  dream
to be out on that dancefloor with him, and it was fucking  perfect . We even—we
even danced to  our  song.” Eddie sighed sadly, remembering how Richie held him
and the dumb smile on his face, the jokes they made.
 
“So, what happened?” Ben prompted politely.
 
“Well, his friend Tom interrupted us,  right when —well, nevermind. Tom
interrupted us and told Richie that that  bitch  Michelle needed help,
something about puking in the bushes or something? So, Richie left me and I got
angry and—and jealous, so I got drunk. And made out with Adrian Taylor—”
 
“YOU MADE OUT WITH ADRIAN FUCKING TAYLOR?!” the Losers screamed.
 
Eddie winced. “Use your fucking inside voices, please. Yes, I made out with him
and Richie found us and got like, super mad for some reason, and we had a
fight. I said some things, some mean  but true  things, and then he basically
told me to go fuck myself...and then I found you guys, crying, I guess…”
 
It was silent for a moment.
 
Then: “I’m still gonna kill him,” Bev said, but she sounded more subdued now,
more sad than angry.
 
“ I  can’t believe he made out with Gretta fucking Keene,” said Stan, and then
quickly shut up at the look Bev shot him.
 
Eddie just wanted to curl up in a ball and die. He didn’t want to remember the
way Richie had shoved his tongue down Gretta’s mouth and the way he seemed to
be  actually  enjoying it, the asshole. He didn’t want to think about how badly
he wanted it to be him in that situation, sucking face with Richie.
 
He didn’t want to think about it.
===============================================================================
Richie didn’t think about it.
 
He didn’t think of the resolute way Eddie had called him  bullshit  (which was
true) or the way his eyes shed tears (which was so fucking heartbreaking). He
just didn’t. He didn’t think at all. His mind and body were on autopilot.
 
He helped Sammy and the others clean up his house, electing himself to clean up
his vomit because he felt kind of bad. It took most of the afternoon to clean
the house. The place was an absolute mess. He found Michelle right where he
left her, looking no worse for the wear, except incredibly hungover, like
himself. She was extremely disappointed that she missed the best part of the
night.
 
“You made out with Gretta fucking Keene?!” Michelle had screeched when Tom had
told her, the traitor. “And you call  me  gross.”
 
“Yeah, yeah,” was all Richie said. He was very, emphasis on  very , thankful
that he couldn’t remember that part of the night. He hoped his mind palace
buried the memory out back in the ditch where the dogs pissed. He fucking
hated  Gretta fucking Keene. Why in the absolute  hell  would he kiss her?
 
He knew why, he just wasn’t thinking about it.
 
Ever .
 
They finished picking up the place and ordered out for pizza, all of them
agreeing on pineapple with cheese and extra sauce*. Richie ate four helpings,
absolutely famished, and washed it down with a little vodka and Coke. His
friends only shook their heads at his antics, long since used to his fucked up
ways.  They  were resolutely  not  drinking that day, as they were all, except
Bobby, nursing hangovers almost as gnarly as Richie’s. Richie knew he shouldn’t
drink, he just didn’t give a fuck, especially not after last night.
 
Richie left soon after that, making the trek back home, his hands in the
pockets of his zipped up leather jacket. He could still feel the wallet he
stole yesterday in the inside pocket. Thankfully, no one had nicked it off him
when he blacked out the night before. He walked with his head down, sunglasses
on, earbuds in, blasting Weezer in his ears, when he full on ran into someone.
 
Richie jerked, surprised, looking up, ready to either curse someone out or
apologize. It was Bev, standing on the sidewalk outside Richie’s house, glaring
him down. Richie ripped his earbuds out of his ears, not bothering to actually
turn off the music, and said hesitantly, “Heyyyyy, Bev.”
 
“Don’t you ‘Hey, Bev’ me! Do you have any idea what I had to put up with last
night?!” She yelled to him in the empty street. “Eddie was a mess!”
 
“Yeah? Well, so was I,” he didn’t want to have this conversation, so he pushed
past her and up the front porch stairs of his house, unlocking the door. As
usual, no one was home. Bev followed him inside.
 
“I fucking know! Kissing Gretta fucking Keene?! What the hell is wrong with
you?!”
 
Richie sighed. “A lot, Bev-Bev. Didn’t you get the memo?”
 
A pause, and then: “Eddie told us what happened.”
 
Richie threw up his hands. “Of fucking course he did, because you tell each
other everything, right?!”
 
“Yeah, we do! And we don’t abandon our friends!”
 
“I had to go make sure Michelle wasn’t dead or getting fucking  raped ,
Beverly! I was trying to be a good guy!”
 
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
 
They stared at each other, neither willing to back down.
 
After a beat of silence, Richie spoke up, “You guys don’t need me. You never
have.”
 
“That’s not tru—“
 
“IT IS!” Richie screamed. “You guys are perfectly happy without me or are my
eyes deceiving me when I see you all laughing and joking at lunch or in the
quad?”
 
Bev said nothing, looking at her feet. Richie scoffed, her silence spoke
fucking  volumes.  He looked away, angry and upset, wanting more than anything
to get fucking high and forget about  everything .
 
“Just— leave,  Bev. Just leave.”
 
“Richi—“
 
“JUST LEAVE!” Richie screamed, spit flying from his mouth in anger as he
slammed his hand on the kitchen counter with a resounding BANG! and his heart
broke again at how she jumped back, fear flying in her eyes. But he didn’t
apologize, didn’t say anything but watch her as she averted her eyes and
practically ran out of his house, slamming the door shut behind her.
 
Richie breathed heavily through his nose, willing the tears away. He knew he’d
just gone and fucked up the last friendship he had in the Losers Club and he
knew it was all his fault.
 
You’re a piece of shit, Richie  a voice slurred in his mind, clear as day.
You’re a piece of shit and you don’t deserve  anything .
 
Richie stomped his way up to his room, slamming his bedroom door shut and
throwing his phone, still playing music, on his bed. He ran his hands through
his curls, pulling at the messy strands, willing the voice to go away. But it
didn’t, it just echoed in his mind, over and over, until all he heard was that
voice.
 
Her  voice.
===============================================================================
Eddie felt like fucking shit.
 
He shouldn’t have said those things to Richie, no matter how true they may have
been. Eddie could see Richie’s face in his mind’s eye, looking so broken even
though his eyes were covered up with sunglasses. Eddie could see the way his
lip trembled before he bit into it and told Eddie to go back to Adrian fucking
Taylor.
 
Eddie didn’t even know why he kissed him. Actually, yes, yes he did. He did it
to make himself feel better, to somehow get even with Richie for abandoning him
at the party, even though now that Eddie was sober, he realized Richie didn’t
abandon him. He was going to help a friend, no matter how much Eddie hated (was
jealous of) that friend.
 
God, Eddie was so fucking stupid!
 
He got his wish, he got even with Richie, but at what price? Richie now hated
him, he was certain, and Eddie was too proud to break first and go and
apologize, no matter how much he wanted to. And Richie, Richie was probably out
fucking some guy or girl, Eddie the farthest thing from his mind, and it was
what he deserved.
 
He shouldn’t have said that to Richie.
 
His little daydreams about one day meeting up with him again and both of them
falling in love and living in happiness and peace were dashed to a million
pieces with the words that Eddie had said. And he hated himself for it.
 
And it had been going  so well !
 
During ‘Africa’, right before they were so  rudely  interrupted, Eddie had been
so sure that Richie was going to apologize for leaving him—leaving  them . And
that then, he was going to kiss him and that all the stars and planets would
align within the galaxies and all would be right with the world. Richie
wouldn’t be a drunk or a junkie, he’d just be Richie, and Eddie would just be
Eds, and they’d live happily ever after.
 
What an utter fool Eddie was.
 
An utter fool.
 
He laid upon his neatly made up bed after Bill had finally deemed him well
enough to go home and cried silently to himself. Cried for himself, the way he
was, the way he used to be. Cried for his friends, how they didn’t show it but
how they all missed him, all of them, even Stan.
 
But most of all, he cried for Richie.
 
For the boy he used to be, for the man he had become. How could he have fallen
so far? How could Eddie say those things to him, only pushing him further down
the rabbit hole? Eddie cried and he cried, until he felt that no more tears
would come, and then he cried some more.
 
Eddie didn’t know it, but somehow he felt it. He had broken Richie’s heart that
night, and now he had no way of knowing how to fix it.
===============================================================================
Richie’s nose was bleeding. It was fucking bleeding as he brought himself back
up from the counter where he had just leaned over and snorted the last of the
amphetamines that Michelle had gifted him. He looked into the mirror of his
bathroom, saw his bloodshot, wild eyes, the dark circles underneath, his hair
that looked like he hadn’t bathed in days (it was sticky with product and the
spoopy juice that Bev had threw in his face the night before. He didn’t care
enough to wash it out), and the little red trickle of blood running down his
nose.
 
“Shit,” he said. “ Shit, shit, shit .” His heart was racing as he scrambled for
some toilet paper, the speed working fast, and he ripped off a few squares and
shoved it up his nose, tilting his head back. He could see black spots in his
vision as he tilted his head back too far, too fast and he cursed again. He
felt for a moment that he was going to blackout, but he didn’t.
 
At least not yet…
 
He nursed his bloody nose, wincing a little at how raw it felt. At least he
could feel that. Ever since Bev had left his house earlier that day, he hadn’t
felt much of anything. He tried to sleep off what remained of his hangover, but
it wouldn’t come. Despite not feeling anything, his mind was in overdrive,
telling him over and over again how much of a screw-up he was, a piece of shit.
 
You’re bullshit .
 
Richie groaned as Eddie’s words filtered through his high mind again. Without
thinking, Richie curled the hand that wasn’t currently trying to stifle the
flow of the blood in nose into a fist and slammed it into the side of his messy
head, hoping against hope that it would knock that particular thought right out
of his head. But, of course, he was wrong. All it did was make him see visions
of stars dancing in his eyes and his glasses sliding precariously down his
nose. His head pounded in protest but Richie ignored it, punching himself in
the face again.
 
And again, and again, and again, harder and harder still, until he slammed his
fist so hard in the face that he went stumbling to the bathroom floor, his head
slamming on the bathroom counter and his vision going dark.
 
Richie didn’t know how long he was out for, it didn’t feel like a long time,
but blackouts can be deceiving. His heart was beating in his ears, a fast-paced
beat, and Richie hoped that he didn’t just give himself a concussion. He felt
his nose, the blood was dry so that was good. He gingerly sat up off his
bathroom floor, his head very tender, and grabbed the ledge of his bathroom
counter to haul himself to unsteady feet. There was no blood on the counter
where his head met it so that was another good sign. His glasses weren’t broken
and his eyes were not mismatched pupils, both of them just blown wide from the
speed. So, no concussion.
 
He grasped the door frame that connected his bathroom to his room and stumbled
through and onto his bed, wincing as his tender head made contact with his
pillow. His phone on his bedside chimed, and he checked it, seeing he got a
text from Tom, letting him know that him and the boys were going to the park
for their regular bake and drink. He asked if Richie wanted to come and he
seriously debated it, for like a second, until he finally yielded to the
screaming in his head and he told Tom no, he was going to sleep.
 
Tom: at fuckng 4:46????
 
Richie: head fucking hurts. need sleep. talk 2morrow.
 
Tom: ok *thumbs up emoji* feel better dude
 
Richie: thx man
 
Richie shut off his phone and rifled through his bedside table. His bedside
table was like his own personal pharmacy. It held all kinds of medications in
there, most that he used to get high, but some he used for practical purposes,
like now. He searched through it until he found what he was looking for:
Seroquel 400mg. Despite the speed running through his system, this would put
him to sleep in about thirty minutes flat, and a deep, groggy sleep at that. He
shook out one and popped it into his mouth, dry-swallowing the pill before
gently resting his head back on the bed, closing his eyes.
 
Sleep found him quickly enough and the last he thing that filtered through his
mind before he went under was the look of utter truth on Eddie’s face as he
told him:
 
You’re bullshit.
Chapter End Notes
     poor richie :(
     And poor eddie:(
     poor bev:(
     can you fucking imagine Richie kissing Gretta fucking Keene? no
     wonder Bev was pissed...
     just a warning: you know the saying "it's always darkest before the
     dawn"? it's only going to get worse before it gets better, i'm
     afraid, so just bear with me through this angst. i mean, Richie is an
     addict (to many things) and needs help, serious help, maybe even more
     help than Eddie can provide, like a professional (although i just
     can't see Richie going to a professional, at least in this point in
     time)...just some food for thought.
     sorry this chapter is shorter than the last, but believe me, the next
     one should be long, considering the Halloween dance ;)
     *shoutout to my best friend and all the pizza we eat lol;)
     song - habits (stay high) by tove lo
     (thinking about making a playlist of this story once it's over, would
     you guys like that?)
***** i don't mind, letting you down easy, but just give it time if it don't
hurt now well just wait, just wait a while *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Richie didn’t hang out with his friends on Sunday, which rung so many alarms in
their heads. Richie  always  hung out with them, especially on the weekend,
headache aside. He stayed in bed all day, popping Seroquel like candy to keep
himself in dreamworld and away from the fucked up situation that was his life.
He woke up groggy and confused Monday morning, with someone pounding so hard on
the front door he thought they were going to bust it off its hinges.
 
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, his hair a nest on his head (he still hadn’t
showered; Eddie would think he was so gross), and in his rumpled pajamas,
making his way to the door. “Don’t get your fucking panties in a wad.” He
yanked open the door and yelled a “WHAT?!” to whoever was pounding on his door
so fucking early on a Monday morning. He still had like an hour to get ready
for school, if he was even going that is.
 
It was his friends, standing there, looking relieved to see him after only one
day apart. He never realized how dependent they were on his friendship till
now, and his heart squeezed a little at the show of love. But it quickly un-
squeezed when the first thing out of Tom’s mouth was, “Dude, you look like
shit.”
 
“I’m going to shut this fucking door in your face,  dude , if all you did was
come here to insult me,” the threat was empty but there was still some venom
behind his words.
 
Bobby smacked Tom upside the head and looked at Richie apologetically. “Sorry,
man. We just wanted to make sure you were okay. When did you get that bruise on
your face?”
 
Richie unconsciously touched his face where he had punched himself multiple
times Saturday afternoon until he knocked himself out onto his floor. “Uh, I,
uh, ran into my fucking door,” he said sheepishly, selling the lie. Richie had
become a good liar over the years, nay, a  great  liar.
 
Sammy bust out laughing. “Dude, that sucks!” He looked around inside, “You, uh,
going to let us in?”
 
“Oh, yeah, right. Come in,” he waved them through and they followed him as he
trudged back up the stairs into his room. They helped themselves to his bed and
desk chair while he rummaged around the room, looking for something suitable to
wear.
 
“Um, Richie Rich?” asked Tom hesitantly.
 
“Yeah, Tommy boy?”
 
“I think you need to take a shower. You fucking  reek .”
 
Sammy raised a hand, “I second that motion.”
 
Bobby gave a wry smile, “They’re not wrong, Richie.”
 
“Oh, fuck you guys,” but Richie did as they suggested and hopped into his
shower, turning the water to scalding hot and letting it unknot the tense
muscles in his back. He washed his hair thoroughly, it was pretty gnarly, and
scrubbed himself raw until he smelled nice and clean with Old Spice soap. He
stepped out with just a towel around his waist and the bathroom door was open,
giving his friends a full view of his nakedness as he stepped out of the
shower, but none of them cared. They’d seen all of that during the many showers
after gym class in school (and Tom had seen all of it personally more than
once). He gave his face a quick pass of the razor before stepping back into his
room proper to see what his friends had done in his absence.
 
They had actually picked clothes out for him, those fucking dorks. Richie
really needed to do his fucking laundry, for all that was clean was a pair of
old ripped up jeans, a white t-shirt, a Halloween-themed t-shirt to go over
that (because it was fucking COLD outside, so layers, layers, layers) and a
Hawaiian-style button up over that with pumpkins printed all over it, and
finally his leather jacket. He didn’t think about the implications of the
Hawaiian-style shirt as he got dressed, lacing up his black Chucks, shoving his
glasses on his face, and stealing a cigarette from Tom. He still hadn’t bought
some more cigarettes, the sole reason he stole that wallet that was still
inside his leather jacket.
 
“Hey, I gotta buy some smokes,” said Richie as they piled into Bobby’s truck,
the heater being immediately kicked on.
 
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Tom deadpan. “You keep fucking stealing mine!”
 
“Because you’re so easy to steal from,” Richie blew him a cheeky kiss and Tom
grumbled but blushed a little.
 
“Okay,” said Bobby easily. “Let’s stop by the gas station, I need to buy some
snacks anyways.”
 
Sammy laughed, “You and your fucking snacks!”
 
“Oh, fuck you!”
 
The truck’s inhabitants burst into laughter and for a split second all felt
alright in Richie’s world, until they passed by Eddie’s house and Richie
subconsciously looked up into his window. The light was on and the blinds were
open, and there he was. Little Eddie. He seemed to be arguing with someone,
probably his Mom, but before Richie could get a closer look, Bobby’s truck had
already ridden past and Eddie was gone. Richie’s chest felt tight again and he
looked to Sammy. “You got your pipe on you, Sammo?”
 
“Always,” said Sammy, grinning. “Why, you wanna hit?”
 
“Yes, motherfucker.” Sammy reached into his backpack and pulled out his pipe
that he kept wrapped up in newspaper and a smell-proof baggie. It was shaped
like a traditional Sherlock pipe, and was already pre-packed, of course. Sammy
smoked weed like a chimney. He handed it to Richie, who brought out his lighter
and took a large puff, and then another, and then another, until Sammy was
yanking it back.
 
“Yo, dude, that’s some chronic shit,” Sammy warned. “You’re going to be  flying
.”
 
“Good,” Richie giggled, already feeling light in the head and in the chest.
Much better. They arrived at the gas station quicker than Richie anticipated,
or maybe the weed caused him to space out until they were suddenly there, but
either way, they were there so they all jumped out of the truck and made their
way inside. Richie had to watch where he was going, for his head kept spacing
out, worse than when his ADHD acted up. He bought himself two packs of Marlboro
Reds and a Diet Coke before stumbling back into the truck, waiting for the
others.
 
He watched the people as they filtered in and out of Derry in a haze, his mind
filtering to one topic to the next, never staying on one for long. He spared a
thought that if anyone recorded his stream of consciousness, they’d think he
was definitely insane. Maybe he was…
 
Suddenly a similar truck parked next to Bobby’s and Richie moved so fast in
that moment, he surprised even himself. He fell to the floor of the truck, for
it was ole Big Bill’s truck that parked next to them, and he caught a glimpse
of the Losers as they filtered out of the truck, all except one. Of fucking
course. Richie’s luck was absolute shit.
 
He kept himself down in the floor, even when his friends got back into the
truck, all of them looking uncomfortable. Before they could say anything,
Richie yelled, “Fucking DRIVE!” Bobby did as he was bid, and peeled out of the
parking lot, none of them saying a word as they drove to school. Richie felt
himself slowly regain his sense of self control (ha!) and got back into his
seat, pulling out a cigarette with shaky hands and lighting up, puffing like a
madman. His high was going crazy, his head was in full blown panic mode,
screaming at the top of its lungs.
 
His friends glanced at him uneasily but none of them mentioned anything (thank
fuck). Richie wondered if the Losers had said anything to them about him and
judging by the looks on their faces, they had, but his friends were staying
mum. He probably looked crazed and they were most likely thinking about saving
their own skins by keeping quiet. They pulled into the school parking lot, the
quad already filling with students, and Richie practically fell out of the
truck before it had fully even stopped.
 
“Woah, dude!” Bobby yelled from the driver’s seat. “Calm down! It’s alright,
man.”
 
Richie said nothing, just flipped him off, the cigarette still hanging from his
mouth.
 
“MR. TOZIER!”
 
Richie audibly groaned, and turned to the sound of the intrusion, masking his
face into one of cheeriness. “Hey, teach! What’s crackalackin?” It was Ms.
Turner, walking with a purpose towards him from her own car, looking murderous.
 
“Put that cigarette out right now, young man! This is school property, a non-
smoking zone!” She screeched at him once she was in his face.
 
Richie looked at her, his smile never fading from his face as he took out the
cigarette from his mouth, and said, “Of course, Ms. Turner.” Then he took the
cigarette and, without breaking eye contact with her, stubbed it out on his
hand, in the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. He didn’t even flinch,
but his smile faded, still staring at her shocked face. He vaguely heard Sammy
mutter, “ Dude… ”
 
He let the cigarette fall to the ground and, without another word, pushed past
her towards the front door of the school building, leaving his friends and Ms.
Turner to watch him go in shock. Ms. Turner didn’t seem to know what to do with
what just happened, for he did not hear her usual “Detention, Mr. Tozier!” as
he walked away.
 
“Fucking bitch,” Richie muttered to himself as he pushed open the school’s
front door and walked to his locker. He felt nothing in his hand, absolutely
nothing. He paused when he approached his locker, though, for standing there,
blowing her obnoxious bubble gum, was none other than Gretta fucking Keene,
twirling her blonde hair in her fingers.
 
She smiled when she saw him, and Richie felt himself tense up. He remembered
that smile. The smile she always wore before she tormented poor Eddie…
 
Eddie…
 
Angry and vindictive again, Richie forced a charming smile on his face and
approached her. “Hey, Gretta Keene.”
 
She giggled and smiled at him. “Hiya, Richie. That was  some  party Friday
night, wasn’t it?”
 
“Oh, yeah,” Richie said, opening his locker. “I got fucking  wasted .”
 
“Yeah, I remember,” she giggled again and Richie had to fight the urge to bash
her head into his locker door. “I was, uh, wondering, if you’d like to, ya
know, have a  repeat performance  sometime.”
 
Richie looked up and saw past her. There they were again, the Losers Club, and
they were all staring right at him. Eddie looked positively radiant in his
pastels and that just made Richie angry, so he smiled at Gretta and said, “Why
wait?”
 
Before she could react, he grabbed her face and leaned down, pulling her into a
bruising kiss, right there in the hallway. She moaned annoyingly and Richie
opened his eyes to look at the Losers, and saw that Eddie was practically
running in the opposite direction. He locked eyes with Bev for a moment, who
flipped him off, before running after Eddie but Stan was looking right at him,
glaring. Richie’s heart sped up as he saw him begin to make his way towards
him, but Bill grabbed his pristine collar and stopped him.
 
Richie felt dead.
 
He kept kissing Gretta, right there in the hallway, until the bell rang and
they pulled apart. Gretta was breathing heavily and grinning. By that time, the
Losers were gone. “Hey, do you wanna skip first and go bang in the janitor’s
closet?” Gretta giggled, twirling her hair again and wrapping an arm around his
waist.
 
Richie glared at her and pushed her off of him. “Not on your life,” he sneered.
 
“What?”
 
“ Fuck off , Gretta Keene,” he grabbed his Chemistry textbook and walked away,
leaving a very confused Gretta fucking Keene in his wake. He made his way to
Chemistry class and sat down in his desk. Ms. Turner refused to even look at
him, which was alright with Richie. He felt Stan glare daggers at the back on
his head, but he said nothing, until, right before the bell rang for second
period, Stan leaned forward and whispered harshly in Richie’s ear--
 
“You’re a piece of shit.”
 
You’re a piece of shit. You’re a piece of shit. you’re a pieceofshit.
You’reapieceofshityou’reapieceofshityou’reapieceofshityou’reapieceofshityou’reapieceof-
-
 
“Richie!” Tom yelled, waving a hand in front of Richie’s face. It was lunchtime
already and they were sitting at the lunch table. How did Richie get there? He
really couldn’t remember? He couldn’t remember anything after--
 
“You’re a piece of shit.”
 
“Huh?” Richie asked, looking at him, feeling as though a fog was lifting off
him. “What’d you say?”
 
Tom and the others exchanged a worried look. “ You  were just saying how we
should all go over to Bobby’s after school tomorrow and get ready for the dance
together.”
 
Richie was confused. “I was?”
 
“Uh, yeah...are you okay, man?” Tom looked worried.
 
Richie put on a bright smile. “Sorry, Tommy boy. I just got so caught up
thinking about banging your Mom that I lost my train of thought.”
 
“More like derailed it,” Sammy muttered under his breath to Bobby who looked
like he agreed.
 
Tom smiled uncertainly at Richie, for once not taking the bait. “So we should?”
 
“Yeah, yeah. We should meet at Bobby’s after school tomorrow.”
 
“Cool. Got your costume?”
 
----
 
“Eddie? Eddie!” Someone was talking to him. Someone...important, but Eddie had
other things on his mind. Like the fact that he almost threw up his breakfast
this morning after seeing  him  make out with Gretta fucking Keene in the
middle of the hallway. Eddie knew--he just  knew --that he only did it because
he was feeling vindictive and Eddie also knew that Eddie totally deserved it,
but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He remembered how Richie had looked at
him,  really looked , before leaning down and capturing Gretta’s lips with his
own. For one wild second, Eddie was insanely jealous of Gretta, but then
reality came crashing in and he was sprinting for the bathroom, feeling his
breakfast threatening to come up. It didn’t, thank God, but Eddie was late to
class, having bawled his eyes out in the boy’s bathroom, with Bev standing
right outside the whole time.
 
When he finally came out, his eyes puffy and red from crying, Bev said nothing
but pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, running her hands through his curls.
 
“EDDIE!”
 
“Yes! What the fuck?!” Eddie yelled back, broken out of his reverie. He had
been staring at Richie’s back in the lunchroom, seeing that damn near Hawaiian
print shirt peek out from underneath his leather jacket. Boy, that brought back
memories. Good memories/painful memories.
 
“Billy wants your opinion on his costume,” said Bev patiently. Eddie had a
feeling they all knew who he was staring at/thinking about, but none of them
said anything.
 
“Yes, Bill?”
 
“W--well, Stan and I were thinking ab--b--bout going as Sandy and D--Danny from
Grease,” said Bill.
 
“Who’s gonna be Sandy and who’s gonna be Danny?” Eddie asked, suddenly grateful
for the distraction.
 
“ I’m  going to be Sandy,” said Stan in a tone that brokered no argument and
really, it was a perfect fit. “And Bill’s going to be Danny.”
 
“That’s cool,” said Eddie. “Do it.”
 
“You sure?”
 
“Totally,” Eddie tried to smile but it felt forced on his face.
 
Stan leaned forward and mock whispered, “Forget about that asshole, Eddie. He’s
not worth it.”
 
“But he was,” said Eddie quietly. “Or do you guys not remember how happy he
made us?”
 
The table went silent, all lost in their own memories of Richie “the
Trashmouth” Tozier. Stan was the first to speak up, resolute in his opinion.
“He needs help,” he said. “Like, a professional to sort out his mess.”
 
“Do you  really  think Richie would go seek out help? Or listen to others who
tell him he needs help? Or hell, do you think his parents would even notice or
care enough to send him themselves?” Eddie bit back, a little too harshly. Stan
shut up.
 
“So what do we do, then?” asked Mike.
 
Eddie sniffed and looked back over to Richie’s table. His head was now resting
on the table and his eyes were closed behind his glasses. Eddie spared a glance
at his friends and saw the troubled looks on their faces and made up his mind.
“ I’ll  talk to him,” said Eddie. “I’ll make him see that he needs help.”
 
“How?” Bev finally spoke. She had been silent on the whole matter so far.
 
“First? By apologizing.”
 
----
 
“You look like an idiot,” Richie laughed at Sammy, who was dressed in his
Westley get-up from The Princess Bride. It was Tuesday, Halloween night, and
they were all at Bobby’s getting ready for the dance.
 
Sammy flipped him off. “Fuck you, like you’re any better. Who ever heard of a
skinny Batman?”
 
Richie flipped him off in return and they just stood there for a moment, their
respective birds flipped in each other’s faces until they caught each other’s
eye and burst out laughing. Richie felt better that day than he did the day
before. Being around his friends helped a lot to ease the sadness in his heart,
although it didn’t fully go away. Oh no, it settled in the back of his brain
just waiting for a moment alone so it could pounce on Richie’s heart and bring
him back down again. But for the time being, he was...not happy per se, but
content. Yeah, content.
 
“Forget about you guy’s costumes,” said Tom, stepping out of the bathroom and
striking a pose. “What about me?”
 
He had slicked back his black hair and sprayed painted it green. He had fake
grills in with red lips and wore a full on tuxedo with a white flower in the
lapel. Richie and Sammy exchanged a look and bust out laughing again. Tom
frowned, “What?” When he got no answer, only more laughter, he yelled, “What,
you fuckers, what?!”
 
Richie gasped for breath, tears streaming down his eyes. He fought the urge to
wipe at them for he had blacked out around his eyes for his Batman cowl. Plus,
his contacts were in and he didn’t want to irritate them. “You—you wrote
damaged  backwards.”
 
“What?!” Tom scrambled back into the bathroom and looked at himself in the
mirror. “You fuckers, no I didn’t! It looks fine!”
 
“The mirror reverses the image you project,” Richie explained. “So, if you
wrote it the way it looks right in the mirror, it’s actually backwards in real
life.”
 
Sammy stared at him. “What?” Richie shrugged. “I read.”
 
“You’re lying!” Tom accused, but he had a crease in his forehead from worry.
 
“No, I’m not,” laughed Richie. He reached down and grabbed the t-shirt he’d
been wearing earlier and walked into the bathroom with him. He held the t-shirt
up to the mirror and said, “See how AC/DC is spelled backwards in the mirror?
That’s because it’s reversed.”
 
Tom groaned. “Oh, fuck! I have to write it backwards?! I can’t do that!”
 
Richie laughed and pushed Tom onto the toilet seat to sit. “Here,” he said.
“Let me.” He carefully wiped away the backwards  damaged  with a makeup wipe,
then repainted the patch of skin white before writing the word on correctly
across his forehead. He also redid the  J  under his left eye. When he was
finished, he looked into Tom’s eyes and got awkward at the feelings he was
projecting. Feelings Richie didn’t really reciprocate. Richie cleared his
throat and stood up, declaring, “All done!”
 
“You’re a lifesaver, Rich,” said Tom dreamily before catching himself and
shaking his head, grinning at him sheepishly. They walked back into Bobby’s
bedroom, silent, until Bobby’s voice broke the silence.
 
“Hey, fuckers! You ready for your minds to be blown?!” Bobby had insisted on
putting on his costume in another bathroom. He still hadn’t even told them what
he was going as.
 
“Yes!” Richie and the others screamed back.
 
Suddenly, Bobby’s bedroom door flew open and a large, furry werewolf burst
through, screaming, “ROAR!”
 
Richie was embarrassed to admit it, but he let out a high-pitched scream and
almost fell backwards on the bed. The werewolf and the other guys paused before
howling with laughter, the werewolf removing the mask to reveal Bobby’s smiling
face. “Chillax, dude,” he said, still laughing. “It’s just me.”
 
“Fuck all of you guys,” Richie mumbled. “And you in particular, Bobby. You know
I hate werewolves!”
 
“Awh, come on, Richie Rich!” Sammy was still laughing he was almost crying.
“You know Bobby is more teddy bear than scary werewolf.”
 
“Fuck you very much, Sammy,” laughed Bobby.
 
“Yeah, yeah,” said Richie but he was smiling now and his friends seemed to be
delighted in that fact. “Come on, you old geezers! Let’s go get crunk!”
 
“At a school dance?” asked Tommy as they made their way out of Bobby’s house
and into his truck. “Not very likely.”
 
“Yeah, But Sammy brought the weed and  I —“ Richie reached into one of the
pouches on the Batman utility belt and pulled out a flask, “—brought this!”
 
“What’s in it?” asked Bobby as he started the engine, always up for booze.
 
“Just pure, unadulterated  vodka .”
 
“ Niiiiccceee ,” said the boys in unison and then they cracked up again. Richie
loved his friends. He loved them so much. They really did help him get through
his dark times, now that he didn’t have  them  anymore.
 
And whose fault is that?  asked a nasty voice in the back of his head that
sounded vaguely like his Father, but Richie pushed it away.  Not tonight  he
thought resolutely.  Tonight, I’m going to go to this stupid Halloween dance
and have fun and forget all about the Losers Club and—and Eddie.
 
—you’re bullshit—
 
Ah, there it was again. Those horrible, but oh so true it physically caused him
pain, words that Eddie had spoken to him during last Friday’s party. And just
like that, the love he was feeling in the truck with his friends vanished into
thin air and was replaced with the broken sadness that filled his lungs every
time he took a gulp of air.
 
Why did Eddie’s words affect him so much? Why did he care what Eddie thought of
him? Eddie accused Richie of abandoning them—of abandoning  him , but in
Richie’s eyes, they were just as guilty. They didn’t try and stop him from
pushing them away, they just let him go and never looked back.
 
Fuck them  he thought, looking out the window onto the cold, darkened streets
of Derry, only lit up with jack-o-lanterns and Halloween decorations and dozens
and dozens of little kids happily flitting from house to house, chasing the
sugar high.  Fuck him .
 
They got to Derry High quickly, the parking lot already filled to the brim with
students. Richie took a long gulp of his flask before passing it to the others.
While they took their sips, Richie pulled his messy, curly hair into a bun at
the nape of his neck and then jammed the Batman cowl overtop of his head. “How
do I look?” He growled in his best Batman imitation.
 
“Like a skinny-ass Batman,” retorted Sammy, and they both gave each other the
finger again until Bobby came between them, laughing.
 
“Alright, guys,” he said. “Let’s go get our school spirit on or something…” He
jammed the werewolf mask over his head and then they were all piling out of the
car and into the gymnasium.
 
As per usual with high school dances, especially ones at Halloween, they were
assaulted with the opening lyrics to the classic “Monster Mash” and orange
streamers decorating the ceiling and fake pumpkins hanging from thin wires. In
one corner of the gym, there was a fake graveyard, complete with the real
skeleton from Mr. Hamilton’s Science lab and fog makers. That’s where the
couples and friend groups could go and take pictures if they wanted to. Richie
and the boys grinned at each before making their way over to the graveyard,
getting in line with the others. When it was their turn to take a picture, they
all struck ridiculous poses, trying to look like some weird 90s boy band or
something. The man taking the pictures was using an old Polaroid, so they were
immediately handed their picture.
 
Richie laughed out loud when the picture came into view after shaking it
vigorously. He was in the front, kneeling in that classic boy band pose and his
chin was resting between his thumb and pointer finger, making him look faux-
thoughtful as his blacked out eyes looked into the camera. Beside him was
Sammy, pointing his rapier towards the camera and tilting his head. A little
behind Richie was Tom, with his hands on his Joker cane and his feet spread
apart, eyes wide as he looked at the camera. And behind all of them, in the
middle, was Bobby in his full werewolf get-up, looking big and commanding with
his furry arms crossed and feet spread like Tom. All in all, they looked like
dorks. And they loved it.
 
“I’m keeping it!” announced Richie. “And I’m calling us The Hallo-weird Squad.”
 
The others groaned. “The Hallo- weird  Squad?” Sammy asked. “Seriously?”
 
“You gotta a better suggestion?”
 
“Yeah, I do!”
 
“Well, let’s hear it!”
 
Before Sammy could finish that sentence, he looked off to the right and let out
a “ Dammmmnn…”
 
“What?” The other boys looked to see to who or what he was referring to.
 
“Check out that ass on that Robin over there, Richie Rich!” Sammy clapped him
on the shoulder. “Go talk to him, maybe he’ll be up for some kinky sidekick
action.”
 
Richie laughed as his friends pushed him in the direction of the cute little
Robin with his back turned to Richie. Sammy was right, his ass looked  amazing
in those shorts and vaguely familiar, although for the life of him he couldn’t
place it. Richie came up behind the Robin, who was situated at the punch bowl
and leaned down to whisper in his ear with his best Burt Ward impression, “Holy
check out the ass on that Robin, Batman!”
 
The Robin in front of him tensed up before turning around to face Richie.
Richie felt himself go slack, for looking at him under his mask with a face
full of fury, was none other than—
 
Eddie .
 
——
 
Eddie was super bored at the Halloween dance. All of his friends were off
dancing or doing cute couple shit, even Mike who had found a girl dressed up as
the girl from the ‘Thriller’ music video, matching his outfit perfectly, and
now they were off dancing (to the ‘Thriller’ believe it or not). He had
resigned himself to the punch bowl, even though under the watchful eye of Ms.
Turner, it was as clean as water, no alcohol in it at all, but Eddie kept
hoping that the next time he dipped the ladle into the orange punch— like the
spoopy juice —that it would magically turn alcoholic and save him from boredom.
And Eddie didn’t even like to drink!
 
He had resigned himself to a boring night the moment Bill had picked him up in
his truck, dressed in his Danny Zucko outfit and looking positively dashing.
Stan looked great too, in a man’s version of Sandy, with a pink button down
shirt and a yellow pastel sweater tied around his shoulders that he’d borrowed
from Eddie. Eddie watched them kiss sweetly, lovingly, and he knew without a
doubt that he’d be alone and bored out of his mind for the rest of the night.
And he was right, until—
 
“Holy check out that ass on that Robin, Batman!” Some fucker with a horrible
Burt Ward impression thought they could get away with a comment like that.
Eddie tensed, gripping his fourth glass of punch tight in his hand, ready to
fling it in the face of whoever just said that to him, but the action died as
he looked up in the face—mask—of the perpetrator and saw that it was  him .
 
Richie.
 
“R—Richie?” He stuttered out, then cursed himself for sounding so dumb and love
struck at the same time. To Richie’s credit, he didn’t seem to notice. He
seemed just as at a loss as Eddie.
 
“E-Eds?”
 
“Don’t call me that.”
 
Inexplicably, Richie grinned at him under the cowl. Wasn’t he supposed to be
mad at Eddie? Enraged at the things he said? “Sorry about that, Eddie
Spaghetti,” Richie sheepishly rubbed one of the ears on his cowl. “I didn’t
know it was you.”
 
“It’s okay. I should have guessed it was you from that horrible Burt Ward
impression,” Eddie couldn’t help but grin back, but he was a little confused by
Richie’s seemingly cool exterior.
 
“Oh,  horrible  was it?”
 
“It was pretty bad,” Eddie said and they both laughed, a little awkwardly.
 
Richie looked around. “It was nice seeing ya, Eds. I gotta get back to my
friends, soooo. Nice costume by the way, makes your ass look great.” He turned
to leave, but Eddie stopped him with a hand to his arm.
 
“Wait,” He said, feeling as though a heart attack was about to come on, but he
had to say this. He just  had  to. Richie looked at him, confused. “I just
wanted to say:  I’m really fucking sorry .”
 
Now Richie looked really confused. “Sorry for what?”
 
“For what I said, Friday night…” Eddie looked at his feet, ashamed.
 
“Friday night…?”
 
Eddie looked up. Now  he  was the one who was confused. “You know, at the
party?” At Richie’s questioning look, Eddie sighed, exasperated, and elaborated
further, “ Sammy’s  party.”
 
At that, Richie’s eyes went comically wide and he said, “ Ohhhh...that  party!”
He paused and then said something that made Eddie’s heart drop to the floor.
“You were there?”
 
Silence.
 
And then, “Y—yeah, I was.”
 
“Oh, cool. Did you have a good time?”
 
“Did I have a good—you don’t remember?” Eddie could feel the tears beginning to
creep into his eyes.
 
“Remember what?”
 
And oh, if that didn’t send Eddie into an emotional tailspin.
“Remember—remember our—our  dance …”
 
“We danced?”
 
Ouch .
 
“Yes,” said Eddie, very quietly, the tears almost brimming to the top now.
 
“Oh. Huh. Sorry, Eds. I just don’t remember any of that, I was pretty wasted.”
 
“Yeah. So was I.”
 
“So, then whatever you said to me that night must not have been a big deal if I
can’t remember it. Don’t worry about it, Spaghetti Man.”
 
“Yeah,” Eddie was so quiet now he could barely hear himself.
 
“Well, thanks for the apology or whatever. See ya around, Eds,” and with that,
he was gone, practically busting the gymnasium doors open and disappearing into
one of the darkened hallways.
 
Eddie watched him go and felt his face crumple into tears as his own heart
broke.
 
——
 
You’re bullshit.
 
You’re a piece of shit.
 
You don’t deserve anything.
 
You’re a goddamn LIAR!
 
Richie punctuated each syllable of each word of each thought that screamed in
his head with a punch to the locker. He had taken off his Batman gloves and was
now punching the holy hell out of one of the locker doors. His hand was raw and
bloody but he didn’t care. He just kept punching and punching and punching
until he couldn’t feel anything.
 
He couldn’t believe he lied to Eddie. He looked straight into those big brown
doe eyes and broke his heart with every word that came out of his mouth,
because he needed to. He needed to push him away. He needed Eddie to hate him,
like he hated himself.
 
He lied about everything: not remembering seeing Eddie there, dancing with him,
their goddamn fight, or the fact that his words didn’t bother him so  GODDAMN
MUCH ! Because they were true, they were so true it hurt.
 
Richie was bullshit. He was complete and utter bullshit and he felt like death
would be better than seeing those tears in Eddie’s eyes even one more time.
 
He was pulled out of his self-hate session when a familiar voice screeched, “
RICHARD TOZIER, HOW FUCKING  DARE  YOU?!”
 
Richie stopped his punching and looked at the screeching culprit. It was
Beverly. Of fucking course it was Beverly. She stomped over to him, still
looking threatening even in her Ariel getup. She shoved him, hard enough to
make him stumble a few paces back and yelled, “HOW DARE YOU LIE TO EDDIE!”
 
“Who the fuck says I was lying?!” Richie yelled back, just eager to push her
away, to push all of them away.
 
JUST GET OUT OF MY LIFE!  He wanted to scream.
 
“Because I know you, Trashmouth. You don’t forget shit like that.”
 
Richie looked away, jaw tight underneath the cowl. “You just broke Eddie’s
heart!” Bev yelled.
 
“Oh, yeah?! WELL HE BROKE MINE!” Richie yelled, then gasped, feeling tears
gather in his eyes at the admission.
 
Bev stumbled back at his outburst, her eyes wide in shock. His chest heaved
heavily, and the pain was beginning to ignite in his hand but he ignored it.
 
Bev was quiet for a moment, but she asked hesitantly, “Is that why you lied? To
get back at him?”
 
“No, Bev. I lied because I am a total and utter  piece of shit . Just ask
Stan,” Richie scoffed.
 
“Richi—“
 
“Why are you all so suddenly keen on getting me back in your life?! You sure as
hell didn’t fight it when I walked away four years ago!”
 
“That’s not true! I tried! I still stuck around!” Bev yelled.
 
“Yeah, just barely. The others though, they dropped me like a hot potato the
moment I walked away.”
 
“And why did you walk away, huh?! What did we do to you?!”
 
At that, Richie was silent. There was no way, no way he was going to spill his
deepest, darkest secret to her. He wasn’t going to tell anybody,  ever .
 
Instead, he seethed through his teeth, “Just  leave me alone...Bevvie .” He
knew that was the lowest of blows, for true fear filtered across Bev’s face at
the nickname, the same nickname her sexually abusive Father used to utter to
her, and he took that as his cue to leave. He turned away and walked out the
school’s doors, ignoring Bev’s sobs as they echoed down the hall.
 
He walked all the way home, freezing and in pain, but he knew he deserved this
and more. So much more. He yanked off his cowl as he made his way down the
street towards his house and then paused, for there, in the driveway of his
home, were his parent’s cars.
 
So the fuckers finally show their faces again  he thought as he walked up the
front porch steps and unlocked the door with the keys in another one of the
utility belt pouches. He walked in the house, nursing his surely broken,
bruised, and bloodied hand. He tried to ignore his Mother on the couch and his
Father sitting in the armchair, watching the TV, but his Mother spoke to him.
She hadn’t spoken to him in  weeks .
 
“Jesus,” she slurred, drunk as a skunk. “What the hell happened to your hand?”
 
“I punched a locker,” he mumbled quietly.
 
“Speak up, boy,” said his Father, not looking away from the television set.
 
“I said,” he gritted out through his teeth, “I  punched  a locker.”
 
“What the fuck for?” His Mother slurred. He was vaguely surprised she was
showing so much interest in him, drunk as she may be.
 
Richie said nothing, trying to go up the steps to his room but his Father’s
voice stopped him. “Answer your Mother, Richard.”
 
“I punched a locker because I lied to someone I care about today,” said Richie.
His anger and vindictiveness towards his parents was flaring up. “And you know
why, don’t you Mother? Because I’m a  piece of shit who doesn’t deserve
anything. Doesn’t deserve those friends that you have. ”
 
His Father finally looked at him, his eyes glinting dangerously behind his
wire-thin glasses. “Apologize to your Mother, boy.  Right. Now. ”
 
Richie’s nostrils flared and he saw red. “ No ,” he said, resolute.
 
“What was that, boy?”
 
“I SAID NO!” Richie screamed and his Father shot up from his armchair, getting
into Richie’s face. Richie got his height from his Father, who had a good three
inches on him. His Father grabbed him by the front of his costume and threw him
backwards, where his head cracked painfully against wall. Before Richie could
move, his Father cold-cocked him across his jaw with his fist, blood spraying
from his mouth.
 
“ Apologize ,” his Father seethed.
 
Richie looked at him and smiled, showing bloody teeth. He spat out the excess
blood onto the dirty floor and looked straight into his Father’s eyes. “ Fuck.
You. ” His Father shoved him to the floor and began to assault his stomach with
a litany of hard hitting kicks, leaving bruises that would surely be there for
awhile.
 
And all the while, as Richie got the shit beat out of him by his own Father, a
voice whispered in his head:  You deserve this. You’re a liar. You’re a junkie.
You’re a drunk. You’re a piece of shit. You are just like your parents.
 
You. Are. Bullshit.
Chapter End Notes
     sorry :(
      
     happy halloween you guys, hope you guys have fun! my best friend and
     i will be having a movie marathon all day so yay! and wowwie, you
     guys are the best readers ever! so nice, so thoughtful:) just wow. i
     can't thank you all enough:) the IT fandom is awesome, for realz:)
     check out my tumblr for updates and other goodies: https://
     lookingaroundforlife.tumblr.com
     song - ain't it fun by paramore
     FANCAST:
     richie tozier - ezra miller (obvs)
     eddie kaspbrak - tom holland
     beverly marsh - sophie turner
     bill denbrough - froy gutierrez
     stanely uris - troye sivan
     ben hanscom - luke benward
     mike hanlon - rj cyler
     tom - ryan mccartan
     sammy - miles heizer
     bobby - justin prentice (yes, ik, god awful bryce from 13RW, but he's
     a completely different character in this)
     michelle - kaya scoldelario
     gretta fucking keene - dove cameron
***** i see your monsters, i see your pain. tell me your problems, i'll chase
them away. i'll be your lighthouse, i'll make it okay. *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Richie didn’t come to school the next day, or the next, or the next, and he
still wasn’t there come Monday. Eddie thought that was fine with him, he didn’t
have to look at his stupid (beautiful) face, but by Monday, Eddie was getting a
little worried. What if he went on a horrible bender and ended up in the
hospital? What if he moved away? What if he dropped out? His anxious mind went
through a thousand different scenarios, half of them ending with Richie being
dead or worse.
 
Eddie watched Richie’s friends like a hawk during lunch, trying to look for any
inconsistencies in their demeanor, and honestly? They all looked pretty subdued
and sad, like their resident Trashmouth was the only source of laughter in the
group. Eddie had half a mind to go and demand from them just where in the hell
Richie Tozier was, but he was too scared. They probably didn’t know this, but
Richie’s friends were pretty intimidating, what with their drug use and alcohol
abuse. Plus, that Bobby character was huge, although there were whispers that
he was actually a giant teddy bear, but Eddie couldn’t take that chance.
 
So instead, he watched and waited, looking like a heartbroken, lovesick fool to
his friends. Only Bev knew the full extent of what transpired between Richie
and Eddie on Halloween night, and only Eddie knew what Richie had said to her,
how he called her  Bevvie . That was a low blow on Richie’s part and Eddie
wanted to hate him for it, for he knew how it affected Bev, but he just
couldn’t. He couldn’t reconcile the fact that Richie apparently didn’t remember
what happened between them at Sammy’s party. Eddie had cried himself to sleep
that night, how Richie didn’t remember their dance, their almost  kiss . It
killed him to know that it obviously hadn’t meant as much to Richie as it did
to Eddie. That he didn’t think it was perfect, until Eddie had to go and screw
it up. He hated himself for what he said to Richie, he really did, but Richie
didn’t even remember, didn’t think it was a big deal, so why should Eddie?
 
Eddie couldn’t help but be worried about Richie. It was so obvious to everyone
but him that he was slowly, but surely, killing himself. Eddie didn’t know it,
but Richie did know he was killing himself, he just didn’t care. Eddie fought
with himself so many times the week Richie wasn’t at school to walk the two
blocks to his house and pound on the door until Richie had no choice but let
him in, so Eddie could talk to him and show him how much he was ruining his
life. Show him how much Eddie cared, how much Eddie had  always  cared, ever
since they first met on the playground on the first day of Kindergarten.
 
Eddie always remembered that day fondly, for Richie had been his first friend
during school, and they had met in the most Richie Tozier way possible. Eddie
had been sitting on one of the swingsets, alone, after he gave the seat a
thorough wipe down with his Clorox wipes that he kept in his fanny pack, and he
was staring at the ground, clutching at his inhaler, feeling a asthma (panic)
attack was coming on. He was fretful because the school was so new, the people
so dirty and full of germs,  and  he was easily the smallest kid in the class
and the easiest to pick on, since he had so many health problems.
 
He was basking in his internal freakout, when he heard a breathless voice call
out, “Hey, kid!”
 
Eddie had automatically looked up from the positively filthy ground and saw
some poorly dressed kid with comically large glasses running at full speed
towards him, clutching something small and shiny in his hand. The kid was
dirty, with scraped up knees and dirt caked on his hands, but he had a huge
grin on his face, which Eddie couldn’t even begin to fathom. “Can I borrow your
fanny pack?”
 
“What?” Eddie had sputtered. There was no way he was letting this filthy urchin
anywhere near his clean fanny pack.
 
“It’s an ‘mergency,” the kid had explained, like that was any better.
 
“What kind of emergency?” Eddie knew how to properly pronounce his words, thank
you very much, unlike this kid.
 
“Life or death,” the kid wasted no preamble and yanked open Eddie’s fanny pack,
dropping the shiny thing in his hand inside before zipping it back up. “You’ve
got nothing in there, got it?”
 
Eddie was confused and mad that this kid had just touched his fanny pack like
that without even waiting for Eddie’s permission and he was ready to tell him
off, when more sets of running footsteps had come upon them, yelling at the kid
who Eddie was talking to.
 
It had been Henry Bowers, the first grader and all around bully. Eddie had
hated him already and it was only the first day of school. Bowers had shoved
Eddie into the cubicles on his way to class  and  tripped him on his way to
lunch, calling him a--a  faggot . Eddie hated that word, it sounded so mean.
 
He was saying now, “Hey,  faggot , give me my knife back!” He shoved the kid
and he fell to the ground, but he was cheeky and brave, this kid.
 
“Knife? I ain’t got no knife. I got a pocket full of lint if you want,” He had
reached a hand into his pocket but Bowers stopped him by stepping on his hand,
causing the kid to cry out in pain. Eddie had bit his lip so hard, he almost
drew blood.
 
“You’re a fucking liar, Tozier. Give me back my knife!”
 
“I don’t got no knife!” Tozier had yelled back and Bowers had increased the
pressure on his hand.
 
“S-stop it!” Eddie had yelled out, pulling on Bower’s dirty shirt to try and
drag him away, but he was so much smaller than him that it didn’t do much.
Bowers head whipped around on him and stepped off Tozier’s hand.
 
“Do  you  got my knife, shrimp?” He had asked Eddie, getting in his face.
 
“No,” Eddie had said quietly.
 
“What was that?”
 
“NO!” Eddie had yelled, surprising the boys around him. He felt another asthma
attack coming on and he had fought with himself to not grip his fanny pack, for
he knew in the back of his mind that the shiny thing that Tozier had dropped in
there had in fact been Bowers’ knife.
 
“Are you sure, you little faggot?” He had pushed Eddie back into swings, but
Eddie stood his ground.
 
“Yes,” he ground out through his teeth.
 
Bowers had looked like he didn’t believe him, but at that moment a teacher who
making the rounds through the playground to make sure no roughhousing like that
happened passed by, so he backed off. “You’re lucky, Tozier,” he had told the
dirty kid. “Next time, you won’t be.” And then he was running off with his
friends and Eddie had felt like he could breathe again.
 
Tozier had cradled his hand against his chest as he stood up off the dirty
ground and he looked at Eddie. “Gee, thanks, kid,” he said, smiling widely and
a weird thumping went off in Eddie’s chest. “Richie Tozier’s the name and doing
voices is my game. What’s your name?”
 
“Eddie.”
 
“Well, thanks a lot, Eds.”
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie had snapped and Richie had grinned.
 
And the rest, they say, was history.
 
Eddie leaned his head in the palm of his head, his mind swimming with the
memory. How everything had been so much easier then, even with fucking Bowers
breathing down their necks. Not long after that, they met Bill and Stan and
their little friend group had grown. Grown into their very own Losers Club, as
Richie had affectionately called it. And now, there was the Losers Club, but no
Richie.
 
Eddie, despite his broken heart, decided with himself he was going to bring him
back. He was going to bring Richie back, come hell or high water, no matter
what bullshit Richie threw his way, he was going to do it. He was going to be
there for his friend, feelings be damned. He didn’t want Richie to kill
himself, he didn’t want Richie to go.
 
He was going to do what he should have done all those years ago.
===============================================================================
Richie wanted to die.
 
His stomach was a mosaic of black, purple and red, and it didn’t look like it
would be fading anytime soon. It hurt to move, and his face was no better. His
jaw felt like it was locked up and he could barely talk, which he felt like
Eddie would say  good . It was purple all along his jaw and his left eye was
black, and his nose was swollen. Thank god it wasn’t broken. His hand was
though, and he had his friends come over and wrap it up in ace bandages. He
threatened his friends within an inch of their lives that they wouldn’t mention
what happened to him to  anyone , especially the old Losers Club.
 
His friends were pissed. They wanted to beat the shit out of his Dad, and for
good reason. He had gotten Richie good, real good.
 
“You look like Van Gogh had a field day on your stomach, man,” Sammy had said
when he and the others came over on Wednesday to find him crumpled and bleeding
in his bed, his asshole parents gone. He applied Arnica cream to Richie’s
stomach before wrapping some more ace bandage around his middle.
 
Tom had been pacing his room, pulling at his hair. “I’m gonna kill that son of
a bitch,” he was muttering. “I’ll steal my Dad’s gun and shoot him through the
skull, blowing his brains everywhere.”
 
Richie had chuckled and then grimaced, holding his stomach. “D-don’t want you
to g-go to jail on my ac--account, Tommy boy.”
 
Tom had stopped his pacing and gave Richie a half-hearted smirk. “Who said I
was going to get caught?”
 
Bobby put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I’d help you hide the body, and besides
Richie Rich, your  Dad  is the one who needs to go to jail.”
 
“Yeah, we--well you ain’t g--gonna tell anyone,  right ?” Richie had glared at
each of them as menacingly as he could with one of his eyes sealed shut and
blackened to a pulp. “C--cuz if y--you do, you guys d--don’t need to wo--worry
about my D--Dad, you need to worry about  me .”
 
His friends had shut up at that and quickly agreed to not tell anyone. They had
left him soon after that to let him wallow in his pain, which quickly subsided
for the moment after he dry swallowed a couple (okay, maybe four) oxy’s and let
himself float. He floated and his mind wandered, thinking back on all of the
pain he’d been through.
 
His life was utter shit. He deserved everything he got; he was a junkie and a
drunk. He’d pushed his friends away because he felt he had to--no he  did  have
to. They didn’t deserve to be exposed to him and his  filth . His life wasn’t
just utter shit,  he  was utter shit. He was bullshit, just like Eddie said.
 
He wanted to die.
 
He wallowed in his sorrow the whole week, staying home and popping the oxys
like his life depended on it (and maybe it did). His parents didn’t even
acknowledge his existence again, which was fine by him. He would stagger
downstairs, clutching his stomach and grab food out of the fridge, his Mother
passed out drunk on the couch and his Dad gone to the office. He hated them, he
hated them so much. He wished they were dead.
 
He wished  he  was dead.
 
He didn’t go to school that next Monday either, his stomach was still a mess
and it was hard to walk more than a few steps before doubling over in pain. His
face was a little better. He could open his eye and that was something and he
could move his jaw a bit better too, but it was still pretty locked up. He
stayed in bed, nursing his wounds, wishing he was dead that late Monday
afternoon, when he heard a pounding on his front door.
 
“Go away, guys!” he yelled, his jaw protesting. He thought it was his friends,
coming over to bother him when he told them not to. After that first day, he
refused to see them, not wanting them to see him in his fucked up mental state.
Seeing them would just make him more depressed because all he could think about
were the times they were together, like Sammy’s party or the Halloween dance,
and everything that went to shit.
 
“It’s not your friends,” yelled an oh so familiar voice from behind the door
and Richie froze before staggering to his window to peer down onto the front
porch below.
 
It was Eddie.
 
He looked like he just came home from school, for his backpack was still on his
shoulders. He glanced around the front porch and then Richie watched as he
pounded on the door again. “Let me in, Richie,  please . I--I want to help
you.”
 
Did his friends seriously tell Eddie what happened to him? Richie was furious,
his face contorting painfully in anger, and he stumbled down the stairs, before
ripping open the door. “I  don’t  need your help!” He yelled in Eddie’s face.
 
Eddie staggered back, shocked at the sudden outburst, and then he blurted out,
“What the hell happened to you?”
 
Oh .
 
Well, that was awkward.
 
Eddie’s face turned angry inexplicably. “Was it fucking Bowers?”
 
“Uh... yes . Yes, it was,” Richie said, clutching his stomach. Fucking Bowers
was always good cover for the injuries he acquired from his Dad over the years.
 
Eddie pushed past him and into the house. Richie watched him go, confused.
Eddie turned around when he felt that Richie wasn’t following him and said,
“Come on. Let me look at your injuries.”
 
Richie was taken aback. Shouldn’t Eddie, you know, be pissed at him for saying
that he didn’t remember their dance? To be honest, Richie was a little insulted
that Eddie believed his lie. Richie wouldn’t forget anything that pertained to
Eddie,  ever . Almost all of his happy memories had something to do with Eddie
and Eddie alone.
 
He remembered one of the best days of his life when he and Eddie were thirteen,
shortly before Richie turned his life around for the worst. It was a hot summer
day in Derry, Maine, and it was just him and Eddie down at the Quarry. Bill was
home sick with the flu, Stan was busy studying for his bar mitzvah, Ben wanted
to spend the day studying architecture in the library (the dork), Mike was busy
on his farm, and Bev couldn’t leave the house that day because her Dad was home
and he didn’t like her associating with boys, especially boys like Richie,
although Richie was a little surprised that Mr. Marsh didn’t even like Eddie.
Eddie was a good kid,  mostly , and very charming with adults but Mr. Marsh
hated him too.
 
So it was just him and Eddie.
 
Eddie was freaking out, as per usual, about all the germs that were  sure  to
be swimming in the Quarry and Richie was having the time of his life teasing
him about it. “Yeah, Eds, there are like  tons  of fish in this Quarry that
carry sexually transmitted diseases,” he was laughing.
 
“WHAT?!” Eddie freaked. “My Mom will kill me if I get an STD--”
 
“I think your Mom has an STD--”
 
“Beep beep, Richie! This is serious! I can’t get an STD!”
 
“I’ll give you an STD-- wait …”
 
That stopped Eddie freaking out for a moment and he burst out laughing,
forgetting the implications of Richie’s statement that made Richie’s stomach do
knots and twists. “You just dug your own grave, Trashmouth!” He laughed,
doubled over.
 
“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Richie. “Laugh it up,  Spaghetti Man .”
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie wiped at his eyes and smirked at him. Richie’s slip
up had caused Eddie to calm down considerably and he glanced over the edge of
the drop of the Quarry before looking back at Richie. “I don’t want to jump
alone,” he said.
 
Richie had grinned. “When have I  ever  let you jump alone, Eds? You know I’m
always here for you, so you don’t have to do the scary parts by yourself.”
 
Eddie was silent for a moment before he said, “You promise you won’t let me
drown?”
 
“I promise,” said Richie solemnly.
 
“Or let me get an STD?”
 
“Or let you get an STD,” he laughed a little. “Come on, Eds. Let’s do it!”
 
“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie snapped back but then he did something that Richie
didn’t expect. He grabbed Richie’s hand in his own and Richie could almost
swear that Eddie was blushing. Richie knew  he  was. “Okay,” said Eddie. “Let’s
do it.”
 
They brought themselves to the edge of the drop before smiling at each other
and counting “1, 2, 3, JUMP!” Then, still holding hands, they had propelled
themselves forward, down towards the water. It was the greatest moment of
little Richie’s—and big Richie’s—life: plunging down to the water below,
holding each other’s hands like their lives depended on it, and screaming
bloody murder at the top of their lungs. In that single moment, Richie felt
free .
 
Free, with Eddie.
 
“Richie?” Richie was broken out of his reverie by Eddie saying something to
him, concern written all over his face as plain as day.
 
Richie cleared his throat. “Yeah, Eds?”
 
“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie said, arms crossed. He looked so adorable when he
was concerned. Concerned for  Richie . “Have you been using cream on the
bruises on your face?”
 
“Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah,” said Richie. “It’s upstairs, in my room.”
 
Eddie nodded and turned and walked up the steps to Richie’s room without
another word, Richie practically running on his heels. “I—I can get it!” Richie
was saying. He  really  didn’t want Eddie to see the extent of his room, how
messy and dirty it was, but it was too late, Eddie had already thrown the door
open.
 
Richie watched as Eddie paused and took in the state of his room. The bed was a
crumpled mess and there was still dried blood on his pillow where he had
collapsed last Tuesday after getting the holy hell beaten out of him by his
Dad. Pills were scattered on his bedside table, along with a near empty bottle
of whiskey that Richie had been using to numb the pain further. Dirty clothes
were strewn all over the floor, including his blood-soaked Batman costume, that
Richie swiftly kicked under his bed and away from prying eyes.
 
He heard Eddie softly tut, but he made no comment. Instead, he perused the
pills on Richie’s bedside table and shook out two oxys from the nearly empty
bottle. He handed them over to Richie, stating, “Take these with a glass of
water.  No alcohol , Richie!”
 
“Yeah, yeah,” Richie grumbled but did as he was bid, grabbing the empty glass
that sat on the table and shuffling over to his bathroom and ran the tap. He
took the pills and then made his way back to Eddie, who had discarded his
pastel green backpack and had laid it neatly beside him where he sat primly on
Richie’s bed. He was pulling something out of it, a clunky white box. Upon
further inspection, Richie realized it was a first aid kit. “You seriously
bring a first aid kit with you to school?”
 
“Shut up, dickhead,” said Eddie, although Richie couldn’t detect any hint of
venom in his tone. “Bowers still has it out for me and my friends, and after
the other week, I figured I could benefit from carrying one with me.”
 
Richie looked at Eddie’s face, which had healed quite nicely from the beating
Bowers had given him two weeks ago, until Richie had jumped in to save him.
Wow, it felt like a lifetime ago since that had happened, but it had only been
a couple of weeks.
 
Eddie grabbed the bruise cream that was sitting on the bedside table and
motioned for Richie to sit beside him on the bed. “You don’t have to do this,”
Richie said, but he sat down anyway.
 
“Are you kidding me? After what you did for me with Bowers, it’s the least I
can do,” said Eddie, squeezing out some cream before gingerly applying it to
the bruises on Richie’s face. Richie prayed to whoever was listening that his
face wouldn’t heat up by how close Eddie was, their noses barely inches apart
as he applied the cream carefully and clinically. “Besides,” Eddie continued,
averting his eyes, awkward. “I  care  about you, Richie.”
 
Richie hummed noncommittally, not saying a word.  That’s not what you said at
Sammy’s party  a dark part of his brain hissed but Richie locked it away,
focusing on the calming effect of Eddie’s nimble and graceful fingers on him.
 
Eddie gently poked and prodded his face, asking where it hurt and applying more
cream to the areas that needed it. He seemed to blush for a moment before
saying, “Okay, lift up your shirt.”
 
“Wh—What?”
 
Eddie’s face was determined. “Lift up your shirt. I know fucking Bowers got you
there too, you were practically doubled over when you answered the door.”
 
Richie stared at him for a moment, but he slowly lifted up his ratty Nirvana t-
shirt and exposed his mosaic of bruises. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath through
his teeth and said lowly, “ Shit .” He squeezed out some more bruise cream on
his fingers and reached out to hesitantly touch his stomach. Richie jerked when
the cold cream touched his bruises and because of something else, but Richie
couldn’t-- wouldn’t --think about why that was. “Sorry,” Eddie said, but he
didn’t stop touching him. “Wow, you really let Bowers and his cronies get you
good. What’d you do this time, Richie?”
 
Richie raised an eyebrow.”What makes you think  I  did anything?”
 
Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “You  always  do something to piss Bowers
off, Richie. It’s one of your gifts.”
 
Richie quirked a smile.”That it is. But honestly, I didn’t do anything, except
being a  faggot .”
 
Eddie gave a sad smile. “Yeah, me too,” he said quietly.
 
Richie stared at him and watched him as he worked, rubbing in the bruise cream
real nice on his abs and stomach. It felt so relaxing to feel Eddie’s hands on
him, softly rubbing in the cream before wrapping an ace bandage that Eddie kept
in his first aid kit around his middle. “Reminds you of the old days, huh?”
Richie asked as Eddie wrapped him up, trying to lighten the mood.
 
“Yeah,” said Eddie. “You were always getting roughed up. I swear Bowers had it
out for  you  especially.”  
 
“Yeah,” said Richie, looking away. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that
more than half the times that “Bowers” had beat the shit out of him, it was
actually his Dad, for one offense or another.
 
“Well,” said Eddie, leaning away and taking his hands off of Richie’s front,
which Richie missed immediately, “all done.”
 
Richie put his shirt down, wincing only slightly, and he said, “Thanks, Eds.”
 
“Don’t call me Eds.”
 
“Whatever you say,  Eds ,” Richie smirked and he grinned when Eddie lightly
pushed him on the arm. It felt good to joke with him, to pretend like
everything was fine between them, like they hadn’t broken each other’s hearts.
 
Silence ensued for a moment and Richie thought that Eddie might leave, but he
didn’t. He just sat there, looking troubled and like he wanted to say something
very important. Finally, Eddie spoke, “I know you said you don’t remember,
Richie, but I want you to know: I am  deeply  sorry for what I said at Sammy’s
party.”
 
“But did you mean it?” Richie couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his
mouth and Eddie looked up at him, surprised.
 
“You--you remember?”
 
Richie shrugged. “I remember what you said,” he lied.
 
Eddie looked at his feet. “ Oh ,” he said quietly.
 
“Did you mean it?” Richie repeated. He wanted to know the answer, even if it
killed him.
 
“I--I was drunk, Richie. I--I didn’t know what I was saying,” Eddie refused to
look at his face.
 
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” Richie quoted, feeling and sounding dead
inside. “You think I’m bullshit.”
 
Eddie looked up, his face indeterminable to Richie. “I don’t think you’re
bullshit. I think you’ve been  acting  like bullshit. I mean, kissing Gretta
fucking Keene? Calling Bev ‘Bevvie’?”
 
Richie winced. “Yeah, that was uncool.”
 
“Yeah, it was,” Eddie agreed. “But I don’t think you’re bullshit, Richie. Not
at all.”
 
Richie looked at him,  really  looked at him, and saw that he was telling the
truth. He didn’t know what to do with that information. His chest felt tight,
and he didn’t think it was because of the bruises littering his chest. For the
first time in over a week, he felt the tingling feeling of being alive again,
if only for a moment. A moment he shared with Eddie. He wanted to say
something,  anything . “I know your Mom doesn’t think I’m bullshit. You should
have seen her and me last night as we were bumping uglies--”
 
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie said but Richie watched as he smiled, and he knew
everything was okay.
 
Maybe everything could be okay between them.
 
Just maybe...





Chapter End Notes
     so, maybe some happiness just in time for Halloween? i have no idea
     if it'll last though, so just be warned ;) also, some nice flashback
     scenes between Richie and Eddie, i think you guys can expect more of
     that:)
     song - monsters by katie sky
***** such a harsh tongue, used so easily, never hear it much in front of me.
keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie said but Richie watched as he smiled and he knew
everything was going to be okay.
 
“You want me to shut up,” said Richie, grinning.
 
“It’d be preferable,” Eddie smirked.
 
“I know a way you can shut me up,” Richie said, his grin spreading to a full on
smile. He didn’t know why he was saying this, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt
real right, so right.
 
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned. “I know too. I can just leave and stop hearing your
horrible voice.”
 
“Horrible? You wound me so, Edward Spagedward,” Richie touched his chest where
his heart would be.
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, but the grin was still on his face.
 
“You love it.”
 
Eddie’s grin turned soft and he looked at Richie, his doe eyes shining. “I do,
actually,” he said quietly.
 
Richie looked at him, and suddenly he was overcome with this feeling. This,
inexplicable feeling. This feeling that seemingly came out of nowhere but at
the same time, Richie felt had been there for a very long time, simmering just
under the surface.
 
This feeling to--to kiss him.
 
He wanted to kiss him. He wanted it so bad. He had to do it,  now , or he
would--he would  die . He leaned forward on the bed and he tentatively placed a
hand on Eddie’s knee covered by acid wash jeans, which made him so cute with
his pastel yellow sweater. Eddie paused, “R--Richie?”
 
“Shhh, Eds,” he whispered smokily. “Just--let me--”
 
And then he leaned down and pressed his chapped lips to Eddie’s. Time seemed to
stop in that moment, and all he was aware of was the feel of Eddie’s soft (so
soft) lips against his. He heard Eddie whimper a little at the contact before
parting his lips beneath Richie’s and Richie placed a hand on Eddie’s face,
bringing him closer and deepening the kiss. Eddie wrapped both of his arms
around Richie’s neck and brought their chests flush together, Richie leaning
backwards until they were falling back onto the bed. Richie and Eddie parted
their lips to laugh a little and Richie felt so happy, so content, so--so--
 
He never wanted it to end.
 
“Eddie,” he whispered softly, grasping Eddie’s face firmly in his hands.
 
“Yes, Richie?” Eddie whispered back, his eyes lidded and looking at Richie with
just so much--so much--
 
“I lo--”
 
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
 
Richie groaned at the sound of his alarm going off, signalling the start of
another day. He couldn’t believe he’d just had a dream about--about him and
Eddie -- kissing ! That he almost said--
 
NO!
 
He couldn’t think about that-- wouldn’t  think about that. It was best to put
all thoughts of kissing Eddie ( fucking Eddie ) out of his mind. He didn’t
think of Eddie in that way at all, no, no! And he was certain Eddie didn’t
think of him in that way either, if the way he was sucking face with Adrian
fucking Taylor at Sammy’s party was any indication. Richie was barely a blip on
Eddie’s radar and he hated the way his heart clenched at the thought.
 
He slammed his good hand on the alarm cut, effectively shutting it off. He
gingerly sat up in his messy bed, scattered with food and booze. After Eddie
had gone yesterday, after forcing a promise out of Richie that he would come to
school on Tuesday, Richie had filled his stomach with booze and junk food until
he felt uncomfortably full, the strain on his ribs aching. He had passed out
around seven, after popping two more oxys and chasing it down with some good
old fashioned vodka, burning his throat.
 
He reluctantly swung his legs over his bed and took his phone, texting Bobby
with his good hand, which was a little tricky because Richie was a righty and
his right hand was the one that was broken. He asked if Bobby could pick him up
for school and it was almost embarrassing how quickly Bobby text back with an
enthusiastic ‘YES!’ He then stood up from the bed and made his way into his
bathroom. He really needed a shower, he hadn’t had one in over a week and he
was  reeking . He turned the water to scalding before carefully removing his
pajamas and his ace bandages around his middle, before stepping inside and
washing away his dirt and grime.
 
The hot water felt magnificent on his bruised skin and he wanted to stay in
there forever, but alas, he had a schedule to uphold. He washed his hair, using
only one hand, and his body with his Old Spice soap, roaming his hand carefully
over his ribs. As he stood in the shower, he thought about what Eddie said to
him the day before, what he  really  said, not what he imagined in his oxy
dream. How Eddie didn’t think he was bullshit, just that he was  acting  like
bullshit, and Richie had to admit, that  was  true. He really needed to
apologize to Bev, didn’t he?
 
When Eddie had left his house yesterday, Richie had felt so light and warm he
thought he was going to float away. He didn’t even know why he drank so much
booze that night, when Eddie already made him feel like he was drunk, but
Richie suspected old habits.
 
Just like your Mother  his Father’s voice whispered harshly in his ear and in
response, Richie turned the water from scalding hot to icy cold, freezing out
the negative thoughts. He wasn’t going to have those thoughts, not today. Not
when he knew that Eddie didn’t think he was bullshit. Even under the icy water,
Richie felt like he was floating once more. Floating on cloud nine.
 
Fuck!
 
He got out of the shower soon enough and got ready for school, slowly but
surely with his fucked up hand and ribs. Eddie, the sweetheart that he was, had
started a wash for Richie’s clothes before he left after he wrinkled his
adorable little button nose splattered with freckles and practically hauled his
ass to the barely functioning washer machine and began throwing his clothes in
there, along with a good helping of detergent.
 
“Fuck!” Richie had laughed, despite the ache in his ribs. “What happened to
separating whites from colors?”
 
“Oh, fuck that!” Eddie had said, and then he turned to him with a smirk, “And
since when have you owned anything  white ?”
 
Richie had laughed, ignoring his ribs, and all felt right with the world.
 
Richie got dressed in a black long-sleeved t-shirt with and a Hawaiian print
shirt over it with his leather jacket. He felt new, refreshed, and that totally
wasn’t because he popped a high powered oxy and washed it down with vodka, no
way. He greeted Bobby with a wide smile on his face and jumped into his car,
trying not jangle his ribs or his hand, which he had fashioned in a handmade
sling, using an old pillowcase.
 
“You should really go get that checked out, man,” said Bobby as he looked over
at Richie’s hand hanging limply in his makeshift sling.
 
“No,” Richie half-slurred, feeling the oxy kick in with the alcohol. “No
hospitals.”
 
“What about a doctor’s office?”
 
“Still bad. They’d make me go to the hospital and sign all these fucking forms.
I  hate  forms,” Richie giggled.
 
“You hate forms, huh?” Bobby chuckled. “All kinds of paperwork, right?”
 
“Paperwork, eugh,” Richie made a face.
 
“I bet, you’ve never had to do fill out forms in your life,” Bobby laughed,
reaching over to tickle him in the neck.
 
Richie jerked at the hand on his neck, full on laughing at the tickle. “Stop
that! And yes, I have! Don’t you remember all those forms they make you fill
out at the start of high school? About your likes and dislikes and shit for
trying to decide what kinds of extracurriculars to take? I  hated  that fucking
form. They got  all  of my extras wrong.  All of them .”
 
“Oh, yeah? What’d you get?”
 
“Huh?” Richie was flying, surely flying now as he stared out the truck window.
 
“What’d you get?”
 
“Oh,  chess  and  AV  club, like I’m some kind of--some kind of  dork !”
 
“But, you  are  a dork.”
 
“Shut the fuck up,” Richie sighed and then he looked around the truck. “Where’s
Sammy and Tom?” He slurred.
 
“Oh, yeah! We didn’t tell you because you were--ya know--” they both looked
awkward at that and Bobby continued, “Tom’s parents finally got him a car, so
they are riding in his today.”
 
“AWESOME! What kinda--what kinda car’d heget?” Richie was really slurring his
words now. Maybe taking the oxy with that vodka was a bad idea. Or maybe it
wasn’t, Richie couldn’t decide at the moment.
 
“Dude, what the hell did you take?”
 
“Mmmm, just some oxy,” Richie sighed, blinking his eyes behind his glasses
blearily, his bones in his body weighing down on him heavily.
 
“ Just some oxy ?” Bobby echoed with a strange look on his face.
 
“ Annnndddd  some vodka...on an empty stomach,” Richie slurred as they got
closer to the school.
 
“Dude, come on, man,” Bobby scoffed. “You can’t go to school like this, you’ll
be a bumbling fool.”
 
Richie laughed. “Bumbling, bumbling,  bumbling  fool. Ye ahhhhh , tha’s ME! And
I can  too  go to school, Bobbington, because I have--I have to see  him .”
 
“See who?”
 
“My best friend, my reason for being alive right now--”
 
“What do you mean ‘your reason for being alive right no--’”
 
“EDDIE!  Edward Kaspbrak !” Richie screamed into the car, feeling his heart
thump wildly into his chest.
 
“You’re fucked up, right now, man. Like seriously,” Richie laughed because
Bobby looked like a big teddy bear when he was concerned.
 
“I’mnotfuckedup,  you’re  fucked up!” Bobby pulled into the school’s parking
lot, looking like for all the world he wanted to turn the car around and take
Richie home. Before he got the chance to, Richie stumbled out of the car,
clutching to the door for support, his head swimming. Okay, maybe he was a
little  fucked up, but really, he could handle it.
 
He could handle it he thought to himself as he stood up on wobbly legs, then
promptly slumped down, the world spinning for a moment. Bobby raced over to
Richie’s side and grabbed him before he fell fully to ground, cursing. Richie
could vaguely hear people whispering all around them but he didn’t care. His
mind was wandering, wandering through the woods of his thoughts, tumbling
around the deep, dark forest like a drunkard (ha! He  was  a drunkard!).
 
“Richie! Richie?! Can you hear me?!” Bobby was saying, slapping his face.
 
“‘M fineeeee ,” Richie mumbled. He felt great, like he was wading through
sugary sweet molasses.
 
“Oh my God, is he okay?!” He heard another voice. It sounded like--
 
“ Bev ,” Richie slurred, looking up from his slump to look into Bev’s startling
blue eyes, staring at him with--there it was again-- concern . Richie  hated
when people looked at him like that. “Bev-Bev! I’mso--I’mso sorry  for what--
for what  I  said Hallo weennnn ...I didn’t--I didn’t mean it  at allllll .”
 
“What the hell is wrong with him?”
 
“Stanley! StantheMan!  St-staniel… ” Richie looked past Bev and saw all of them
there, except Eddie: the Losers Club. “You all  know  how much of an--an
asshollleee  I am…” He giggled and then made a face, slumping further down into
Bobby’s arm. “I don’t--I don’t feel so good…”
 
“Hey, guys. Sorry I couldn’t get a ride today, my Mom was being  impossible  to
deal with and-- RICHIE ?!” There he was, the light of Richie’s life, his reason
for living, his Eddie. His Eddie Spaghetti. By the look on Eddie’s face, he had
a feeling that he may have said that out loud.
 
“Richie, ohmygod, Richie! Are you okay?! What happened?!” Eddie looked one
second away from puffing up a storm on his no longer needed inhaler.
 
Richie said nothing, just stared at Eddie with what felt like actual heart’s in
his eyes, so Bobby answered for him. “He took an oxycontin with vodka...on an
empty stomach.”
 
“Shit,” cute little Eddie cursed. He ran a hand over Richie’s face and Richie
felt his mouth split into a lovelorn smile. “We have to help him, guys!”
 
“And do what?” Stan was asking.
 
“W--we could ta--take him to m--my house,” said Billiam, ever the hero. “M--my
par--parents won’t be home.”
 
“And skip class?”
 
“This is more important!” Eddie snapped and honestly? Richie was in love.
 
Yes, Richie was in love! He was in love with Eddie! Why was that so hard to
admit to himself earlier? He couldn’t remember but now, it came as easily as
breathing, bruises on his ribs notwithstanding. Richie had to tell him, he had
to tell him now, he had to--
 
----
 
Eddie was freaking out. He was on the verge of tears, he could feel them
threatening to spill over as he watched Richie breathe unevenly on Bill’s
living room couch. Richie had passed out in his friend, Bobby’s, arms after
Eddie had snapped at Stan for being inconsiderate. Eddie had flipped out as
Richie’s head had slumped forward, unconscious on Eddie’s shoulder.
 
“Richie? Richie!” Eddie had screamed, his heart going into overdrive.
 
“Oh shit!” Bobby had cursed, pulling the unconscious form of Richie up.
“Richie! Richie Rich?! Come on man, wake up!” He slapped Richie but that did
nothing, only pulled a half-hearted groan from him which at least let the
others know he was alive.
 
“We have to take him to the hospital!” Eddie had shrieked.
 
“No!” Bobby yelled. “No, he would never forgive me if I took him to the
hospital.”
 
“Is that why he looks like he hasn’t been to the hospital to see to his
wounds?” Stan asked, pointing out Richie’s battered form.
 
“L--let’s take hi-him to m--my house,” said Bill. He had already pulled out his
car keys. “B--Bobby, can you carry him to my car?”
 
“Of course,” Bobby had said, already flinging the unconscious Richie across his
shoulder as if he weighed nothing. He followed Bill across the parking lot with
Richie swinging across his shoulder, Eddie and the others following behind.
 
They slumped Richie in the backseat, with Eddie slipping in behind him and
propping his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie felt like his heart stopped when
Richie unconsciously nuzzled his neck in his sleep.
 
So there he was, asleep on the couch, and still breathing, albeit a little
unevenly. Eddie was watching him like a hawk, keeping time with his breathing
and pushing his curly hair out of his face. It smelled and felt like he had
recently washed it. Eddie enjoyed pushing his hands through it, to try and
distract him from the chaos that was currently his mind.
 
Why’d you do it, Richie?  His mind was screaming.  Don’t you know that this
could  kill  you?! Did you think about that? Did you think about  anything ?!
Did you think about  me ?
 
Richie mumbled something incoherently in his sleep and Eddie was brought back
from his mind to run his hands through his hair again, cursing the idiot while
he slept. He really was in love with Richie, he knew. He had known for a long
time, but seeing him like this only solidified the fact. He didn’t want Richie
to die, he didn’t want any harm to come to him altogether, but he knew that was
impossible with Bowers and his gang. He just--
 
He wanted Richie to be happy.
 
He obviously wasn’t happy if he was doing this to himself. Eddie wanted to
curse him, kick him,  hit  him for being so idiotic, but he refrained as he
watched Richie sleep it off. Something was terribly wrong with him, on an
emotional level, and Eddie was determined to fix it. He wasn’t going to stand
for his once best friend killing himself. Eddie would--
 
Eddie would never live another day if Richie died, that he knew.
 
Finally, finally,  finally  Richie stirred, blinking open his bleary eyes on
the couch. He seemed to be confused as to where he was, and honestly, Eddie
wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t been in Bill’s house since he was thirteen. The
interior had changed. Eddie moved away when he saw Richie blinking open his
eyes, him and the other Losers Club letting his new friends greet him when he
woke. Tom and Sammy had raced over from school when Bobby had text them, and
Bobby had refused to leave, watching Richie almost as diligently as Eddie was.
 
Eddie heard his friends sigh in relief. “Hey. Hey, man,” he heard Tom say
quietly, moving in front of Eddie’s view as he kneeled in front of Richie on
the couch.
 
“Um, hey?” Eddie heard Richie reply. “What’re you--where am I?”
 
“Y--you’re at my house,” Bill spoke up, standing in the entryway between the
kitchen and the living room, his arms folded.
 
“You passed out, dude,” said Bobby, leaning over him and placing a hand on his
shoulder.
 
“I--I did?” Richie asked.
 
“What do you remember?” Bobby asked, looking concerned.
 
“Um...getting dressed this morning?” and everyone in the room groaned. “What?
What’d I do?”
 
“You, uh, you took oxycontin and vodka on an empty stomach…”
 
“Oh. Did I barf? Cuz you know last time I barfed--”
 
Eddie couldn’t keep quiet. “Last time?!” His voice was shrill. “ Last time?!
Just how many times have you done this?”
 
“In the last month?” Sammy looked at him, totally serious. “Twice.”
 
The Losers Club collectively groaned. “Richie,” said Bev lowly, her pretty face
contorted with concern.
 
“What?” asked Richie, raising his good hand in surrender. “It--it helps me--”
 
“Helps you what, Richie?” Bev asked, sounding ready for a fight. “Helps you
kill yourself?” She voiced what everyone in the room was thinking, bar maybe
his friends.
 
For once in his life, Richie was silent and laid his head back on the couch.
Richie’s friends huddled over him and started whispering to him, in voices so
silent that Eddie and the others couldn’t hear them.
 
After a few minutes, they un-huddled and Tom announced to the others, “Well,
Richie Rich is feeling  loads  better, so we’re just gonna--go, yeah.”
 
Richie stood up on obviously unsteady feet and his friends quickly righted him,
holding him up. Eddie exchanged a look with Bev and sprang into action, Eddie
grabbing Richie by the hem of his black, long-sleeved t-shirt, and Bev grabbed
his hand. “Just  where  do you think  you’re  going?” Bev demanded. “You just
almost OD’d!”
 
Richie blew a raspberry. “OD’d? I didn’t OD, that was only  one  oxy--”
 
“Yeah,” said Sammy. “You should see him on two!”
 
Richie gave him a sour look and Eddie said, shrill, “You can’t do that to
yourself, Richie! I won’t—I won’t let you.”
 
Richie looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “You won’t— let
—me?” Eddie didn’t like his tone of voice. It sounded angry,  real  angry.
“Just like—just like you didn’t  let  me walk away, four years ago? Like all of
you?!”
 
“Hey, man,” Mike spoke up. “That’s not fair.”
 
“Not fair?! NOT FAIR?!” Richie screamed, then he winced and held his ribs. His
friends grabbed him and held him.
 
“Come on, Richie,” said Tom, trying to pull him away. “Let’s just go, alright?”
 
“Richie, please!” Eddie pleaded with him, still holding his shirt but Bev had
already let him go with an unreadable expression on her face. “Please, I wanna
help you!”
 
“You’ve done more than enough, Eds,” said Richie, his face an impenetrable
mask, and then he turned to his friends and said, “Let’s go.”
 
His friends helped him stagger out the door and Eddie felt the tears that had
been gathered in his eyes spill over. This was bad, but Eddie was not about to
give up that easily. He knew Richie might have been opposed to help at first
but Eddie was going to find a way.
 
He had to.
 
——
 
Richie was an idiot.
 
He was a grade A idiot.
 
He couldn’t remember a thing that happened that morning, and that was probably
for the best as Bobby told him as they drove back to Richie’s house after
Richie freaked out on his old friends. He had caused that look in Eddie’s eyes
again, that broken-hearted look, but he couldn’t help it. He had freaked when
Eddie mentioned helping him, about not letting him hurt himself.
 
They all let him hurt himself the first time, so why should they care now? Why
should Eddie care? Sure, they had a few nice moments together, and more than a
few bad ones, but that didn’t make up for the years they spent apart. Richie
could tell that Eddie wanted things to be how they were, but things could never
go back.
 
Richie was too far gone.
 
He knew this as he cracked open his first beer of the night, sitting cross-
legged on his bed with his friends. Bobby and the others looked concerned as he
chugged the beer but, to their credit, they didn’t say anything, just watched
him as he screwed up his life, over and over. That’s what Richie loved about
his friends; they were all messed up in some way, they would feel like
hypocrites if they told one of the others to stop.
 
“That little one,” Tom said as he looked down at his own beer can, “he really
cares about you.”
 
“Eddie,” said Richie. “His name is Eddie.” Richie couldn’t figure out the look
that Bobby was giving him, so he snapped, “ What ?”
 
“You really don’t remember anything that happened on the way to school today?”
Bobby asked hesitantly.
 
“No. Why?”
 
“You—you said some things…”
 
“ What. Things? ”
 
“Well, like...how Eddie was the reason you were alive today—“
 
“I said that?” Richie blinked and his face heated up inexplicably.
 
“Yeah, you did. What did you mean by that, man?”
 
“I—I don’t know,” yes, Richie did, he just wasn’t going to say anything. “I was
out of it, I didn’t know what I was saying.”
 
Bobby was unconvinced but let it slide. Bobby and the others stayed for a
little bit but then they slowly filtered out of the house, leaving Richie alone
to wallow in peace and drink until his liver protested. And then he drank some
more.
 
He tried not to think about what Bobby said that he said while he was high on
oxy and vodka, but his mind kept pushing through his jumbled up memories while
he got piss poor drunk, struggling to keep himself upright in the bed. It was
late by that point, the sky had gone dark a few hours ago, and Richie was
feeling trapped, suffocated by his mind and the oppressiveness of his house.
 
So, he fumbled with a hoodie and put his leather jacket back on and then
stumbled out of the house, content to just wander. Apparently though, his drunk
mind had other ideas, for he suddenly found himself outside a familiar house,
looking up into a window with the light still on. Before Richie could stop
himself, he was grabbing a handful of pebbles by the road and throwing them up
towards the window. He missed more than he hit, but it got the job done for the
face he wanted to see popped his head out of the window.
 
Eddie .
Chapter End Notes
     oooh, what's gonna happen next? idk ;)
     sorry if this chapter is shit, i wrote most of it while i was not
     sober last night on Halloween sooooooo...
     thank you all for all your wonderful comments, really! they are
     absolutely amazing and i love you all! best readers ever! <3 <3 <3
     song - it's getting boring by the sea by blood red shoes
***** i wanna be drunk when i wake up, on the right side of the wrong bed *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Eddie couldn’t believe it. He had resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t
going Richie until tomorrow. He had made a full on plan of get to school early
and wait him out, and if he didn’t show, skip school to bang on his door until
he finally revealed his face. Eddie was so determined to make everything right,
to make Richie  whole  again. It was so obvious that there were pieces of him
missing,  crucial  pieces. And Eddie was nothing if not determined to find
those pieces and glue him back together again, even if it took a lifetime.
 
At least a lifetime of trying was better than a second of giving up.
 
Eddie would  never  make that mistake again; he would  never  give up on Richie
ever again . Before the feelings, before Richie walked away, Richie was his
best friend. His confidant, the person he knew he could count on when things
got tough, as they usually did with his Mom. And what does Eddie do for Richie
in return? Instead of fighting it,  really  fighting Richie walking away, he
let it happen. He watched him go and then tried to forget. Forget their
friendship and all the happiness they shared.
 
Well, never. again.
 
Eddie should have known Richie would make it hard.
 
He was getting ready for bed, his Mom already snoring in the downstairs
bedroom, putting on his pajamas after laying in his bed the past few hours and
trying not to have an anxiety attack over what Richie might have been getting
up to. He was in the middle of pulling up his shorts over his underwear (Bill
and the others teased him that they were  too  short) when he heard the first
tap on his window.
 
At first, Eddie thought it was a tree branch or something scraping the side of
the window and quickly moved on, but when it happened again, well...his heart
started thumping wildly, for that only meant  one  thing. One thing that hadn’t
happened in over four years.
 
Ever since Richie had learned to climb, he was always coming over to Eddie’s
house at odd hours of the day and climbing up into Eddie’s room, despite his
(half-hearted) protests. It was a constant in Eddie’s life for a long time, he
always kept his window unlocked just for Richie.
 
But then, Richie stopped climbing through his window. Stopped hanging out with
him or the Losers, and gradually, the window became locked again.
 
Now though,  now , the lock was being switched off as fast Eddie could manage
it, Eddie practically flinging open the window in half-crazed desperation. And
there, wobbling slightly on his lanky legs, was Richie.
 
He wore a dumb, lazy smile on his face, staring up at Eddie with an expression
that Eddie didn’t want to read into but it made him blush all the same.
 
“Eds!” Richie called, his voice slurring slightly. “Eddie Spaghetti!”
 
The words came out of Eddie’s mouth before he could stop them. “Are you drunk?”
He asked, his heart hammering wildly.
 
“A little itty, bitty, tiny bit,” Richie admitted but Eddie didn’t believe him.
He was unsteady on his feet. “You gonna let me in or not?”
 
“Can you even climb up here?” Eddie asked, unsure of what else to say.
 
“Pft! That? Easy peasy! Watch and learn, baby,” Eddie looked away for a moment
to hide the flush on his face at Richie’s use of the word  baby , trying to
remind himself over and over again that Richie was drunk.
 
Richie ran and jumped up to the first story ledge, grasping it with both hands,
which caused him to gasp in pain but he was undeterred, pulling himself up and
edging to Eddie’s window. Eddie backed away to let Richie come through…more
like  tumble  through with the way he almost face-planted to floor but at the
last second he righted himself and stood there, proud and drunk.
 
“What are you doing here?” Eddie finally asked. He felt that maybe he should
have asked that when Richie was still on the ground but his brain to mouth
filter wasn’t working very well at the moment, with the fact that  Richie  was
in his room after such a long period of time.
 
Richie nursed his bad hand to his chest, glancing around the room. “Wanted to
see you, baby,” he said (more like slurred heavily).
 
“You’re drunk,” Eddie stated again, more for himself than for Richie.
 
Richie looked at him, his glasses slightly askew and he smiled. “So we’ve
established. Wow, you’re room really has not changed, Spaghetti Man.”
 
Eddie glanced around his room to see that yes, it really had not changed, not
much. His twin bed was swapped out for a nice comfy full size bed but it still
sat in the corner and his walls were still a nice rosy pink and everything was
still neat and in order. Eddie watched as Richie ran his fingers over the CD
rack sitting on Eddie’s desk, nice and organized from most favorite to least.
Eddie was embarrassed to note that all the CDs that Richie gave him when they
were younger sat at the top.
 
“ Niiiccceee ,” said Richie, pulling one out. “You still have that Nirvana CD I
gave you.”
 
Eddie almost said of course, you idiot. It was a twelfth birthday present and
Eddie had cherished it. He and Richie listened to the CD on repeat for days,
giggling and smiling over the songs. Instead he said, “What was I gonna do,
throw it away?”
 
Richie hummed noncommittally and moved on, looking at the pictures that
littered his desk and the ones on the corkboard above. There was one, mostly
hidden beneath much more recent pictures, of just Richie and Eddie, sitting
with their arms around each other’s shoulders and smiling and laughing at one
another. It was taken not too long before Richie inexplicably left and Eddie
didn’t have the heart to take it down. Eddie knew that Richie saw it, for he
stopped in his perusal of Eddie’s room and just stared for a moment, even
reaching out to touch it.
 
Eddie couldn’t read the expression on Richie’s face, which had just been par
for the fucking course lately. It frustrated him  so  much, because when they
were younger, Eddie could read Richie’s little micro expressions off the drop
of the hat. Now, looking at him, he was like a stranger.
 
He  was  a stranger.
 
Richie moved on, running his good hand over the many pastel sweaters that Eddie
kept hung neatly in his closet, looking at the posters on his wall, and finally
completing his circuit by coming back to the bed. Eddie just watched him as he
went, feeling so unsure of what to do. At least Richie didn’t seem angry…
 
Richie plopped himself on the bed and just looked up at Eddie, who was still
standing in the same spot, rooted like an idiot. “You just gonna stand there
all night or are ya gonna come sit with me?” Richie slurred, patting the bed
beside him with his good hand.
 
“Why are you here?” Eddie asked again.
 
“I told you. I wanted to see you.”
 
“But why? You seemed pretty mad at me earlier…”
 
“You’re too  cute  to stay mad at, baby,” Richie winked and Eddie felt himself
blush again.
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie tried to snap but it sounded weak in his own ears.
 
“What? Cute? What else should I call you?  Beautiful ?”
 
He’s drunk. He’s drunk. He’sdrunkhe’sdrunkhe’sdrunk  Eddie tried to repeat it
like a mantra in his head, but it was getting so hard to listen when Richie
just sat there staring at him with that look on his face.
 
Like Eddie actually was beautiful in his eyes.
 
No , Eddie decided as he saw Richie sway in his seat.  You’re projecting and
he’s drunk !
 
“Don’t call me cute and  don’t  call me baby,” said Eddie, folding his arms,
trying to look stern (and probably failing miserably).
 
“But you’re so cute,  baby. Cute, cute, cute !”
 
“Stop that!”
 
Richie laughed and it sounded like music to Eddie’s ears, even if he  was
drunk. “Okay, okay... doll face .”
 
“Richie!”
 
“Okay, I’ll stop. I’ll stop.”
 
It was silent for a moment, both of them looking at each other, Eddie trying to
figure Richie out. He was mad at him earlier, and then he gets drunk and comes
stumbling over to his house in the middle of the night, wanting to come in.
What did it mean?
 
“I—I’m sorry if I upset you earlier,” Richie said suddenly, surprising Eddie.
He was suddenly looking at his feet, as if they were about to fly away.
“Ididn’tmeanit,” He slurred.
 
“It’s okay,” said Eddie, finally coming to sit beside him, albeit hesitantly.
“You were right.”
 
Richie looked up, confused. “I was?”
 
“Yeah,” said Eddie. He figured he might as well say it, even if Richie wouldn’t
remember in the morning. “We did— I  did—let you walk away, and for that I’m
sorry.”
 
“You are?”
 
“Yes,” Eddie breathed and he did something that sent sparks flying through his
arm. He reached out and placed his hand over Richie’s good one, trying to give
him some comfort.
 
“Why?” Richie asked and Eddie was dumbfounded.
 
“ Why? ” Eddie repeated. “Because—because you were my best friend and I should
have been there for you, like you always were for me.”
 
Richie took his hand away as if he’d been burned and his face was like an
impenetrable mask. “I was a shit friend and you  knowit ,” He slurred silently,
looking off into the distance. “Imma  pieceofshit. ”
 
“Is that what you think?”
 
Richie looked at him, “That’s what I  know .” He looked back off into the
distance and spoke again after a moment. “You ‘member, that day attheBarrens?
When we—when we built that—that  dam? ”
 
Of course Eddie remembered that day. He had agonized over that day for  years ,
going over every last little detail, to see where everything went so horribly
wrong, for  that  was the last day Richie spent as part of the Losers Club. And
after years of agonizing, Eddie had come to the conclusion that it had been a
perfect  day. There were no fights, no slights of any kind, just pure fun
between the kids.
 
“Yes,” Eddie whispered, bracing himself for whatever Richie had to say.
 
“That wasssss probly one of the  best  days ofmylife,” Richie admitted, his
face still completely stoic and unreadable.
 
“It was?” Eddie always thought it was probably one of the worst days of
Richie’s life, for what had gone  so wrong  that he left?
 
“Yep! I had soooo much  fun  that day with you guyysss, laughing and talking
and joking ‘round. The best. I was on cloud nine all the way home, I couldn’t
wait forthe next day, to see if our dam had worked. I got home and—and I don’t
know  why  I did it!”
 
“Did—did what?” Eddie asked.
 
“My  Moooommm,  she’s a drunk you see and leaves her alcohol  alllllll over
thehouse, and I see her flask just—just  sitting  there and I—I don’t know, I
had a momentary lapse of  crazy  or something? But I—I pick it up, and I bring
it to my lips, and just as the liquor passes my lips, my parents come home. My
Dad  is supporting my drunk Mother, so he doesn’t notice me at first, but
myMomdoes . She sees me, frightened like a deer caught in the headlights and
says ‘ Look at our son, Wentworth. Look at what a  piece of shit  he is. He
doesn’t deserve those kids he calls friends. He deserves to be friends with the
trash. Our little  Trashmouth . How  proud  I am to call my son  Trashmouth .’
I don’t even know  how  she knew about that nickname, the nickname I—I wore
with  pride , but for the first time,  I  hated  it.  My Dad drops my Mother on
the couch then grabs me, pulling me by my hair and throwing me against the
wall. He grabs the flask and says,  ‘You wanna be a grownup, boy? You wanna be
a  drunk  like your Mother? Well  here ,  drink .’  And—and then, he’s making
me drink the whole thing. The whole flask filled with vodka. By the end, I’m as
drunk as skunk and can barely stand, and my Mother just laughs. My Dad looks at
me with so much disgust that I—I begin to believe—that I  am  a piece of shit.
And that’s—that’s all I’ll ever be. I’m destined to end up like them. Like my
parents .”
 
Eddie felt tears silently run down his cheeks. He never knew—never would have
guessed that  this ,  THIS  was the reason why Richie left. His parents had
done this to him, had  wrecked  him. “Richie, I—I’m  so  sorry,” Eddie silently
cried.
 
“No. No, no, no. It was—my own damn fault. I  am  a piece of shit.”
 
“No, Richie! You’re not!” Eddie argued, putting his hand over Richie’s again
and holding him there firmly, willing him to look Eddie in the eyes. When he
did, Eddie continued, “That—That next day at the dam, was probably one of the
most nerve wracking days of my life. I had been so excited to see if it had
worked with you, and when you didn’t show...Oh, Richie, I was so worried about
you. We all were. I tried texting you, but you didn’t answer. I tried calling
you, still nothing. You know me, by that time I was convinced you were dead
or—“
 
“Or  worse ,” Richie finished with him, a glazed look over his eyes. “While you
were freaking out about me, I was making it my mission to track down my new
trashy friends: Bobby, Sammy, and Tom.  Every one in eighth grade knew what
they got up to, do I knew that they were perfect. The kinds of friends I
deserved. Imagine my surprise when they are as nice and good-natured as the
Losers Club, just with alcohol and drug problems. They were my people. They
took me in, almost without hesitation, and that very same day I got high for
the first time…see? A piece of shit.”
 
“ No ,” said Eddie firmly, squeezing the life out of Richie’s hand. “No, you
are not. You are—an asshole,  sure , but a funny asshole, a—a good asshole.
And—and all of our childhood, you took care of me, better than my Mother ever
did. I looked up to you. I—I still do, in fact.”
 
“You do?” Richie seemed utterly surprised by this and Eddie’s heart broke even
more.
 
“ Yes , I do. You’re so brave, Richie,  so brave . You stood up to Bowers and
his bullies for me, and, I have a feeling that these bruises are not from them
after all, but from your Father. Am I right?”
 
Richie didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes told Eddie all he needed
to know. Eddie was crying again. “I care about you  so much , Richie. I always
have. My heart broke that summer, thinking that our friendship was gone for
good, but it’s not. I won’t let it. You—you took care of me, for so long. Now,
let  me  take care of  you .”
 
Richie stared at him for an inordinate amount of time, his expression
completely unreadable. But then, suddenly, he did something Eddie did not
expect. He pulled his hand away from Eddie’s again and for one panic stricken
moment, Eddie thought he was going to up and leave, but he didn’t. He placed
his good hand on Eddie’s cheek and pulled Eddie’s face in close to his, before
sealing their lips in a chaste kiss.
 
The moment their lips touched, Eddie let out a soft whimper, overcome with so
many emotions that were threatening to bubble over the surface.  Richie seemed
to take Eddie’s whimper as an invitation for more, for he gently massaged
Eddie’s jaw open and slipped his tongue inside, rubbing sweetly with Eddie’s.
He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey, the latter making Eddie come to his senses
and push Richie away, both of them panting heavily.
 
“You’re drunk,” Eddie repeated once more and his heart tugged as Richie’s face
crumbled.
 
“I—I’m sorry,” he gasped and tears were already spilling freely from his brown
eyes. “I should—shouldn’t have done that. I’m a piece of shit, Eds. I’m a
complete and utter piece of sh—“ but his words got cut off as Eddie wound his
arms around Richie and pulled him in, settling his head against Eddie’s chest.
 
“ Shhhh ,” Eddie consoled, rubbing one hand in Richie’s unruly hair and the
other up and down his back. “You’re not. And if I have to remind you of that
everyday for the rest of our lives, I will, Richie, because I—I love you.”
Eddie knew it could be considered a low blow to tell Richie this when he was
totally wasted and was for sure not going to remember in the morning, but Eddie
also knew that it’s what Richie needed in that moment. He needed to know he was
loved.
 
Eddie felt as the dam broke, Richie’s sobs wetting the material of his shirt,
but he didn’t care. He was going to hold him and take care of him, all his life
if need be.
 
Eddie was never letting go.
 
——
 
Richie woke up feeling as though his head was about to split in two. He groaned
and moved around in his bed to try and find a pillow to burrow under when a
smell accosted his nostrils. It was cleanly and smelt a bit of flowers. That
was clearly  not  what Richie’s room smelled like. He gingerly opened his eyes
to blearily see that he was not in his room at all.
 
He was in Eddie’s.
 
And there Eddie was, standing opposite the bed, already dressed for the day in
a cute pastel sweater with a sewn on red rose over his right breast. He looked
unsure as he watched Richie, wringing his hands together in a way that belied
his nervousness.
 
Richie decided to play it cool. “Hey, Eds. Fancy seeing you here.”
 
Eddie bit his lip before answering, “Don’t call me that. How—how’re you
feeling?”
 
“Like a dumpster ran over me,” Richie answered honestly. “How did I get here?”
 
“You don’t remember?”
 
“Uh,” Richie wracked his brain but it was all fuzzy with a few bits that he
knew  couldn’t be right, like spilling his deepest darkest secret and Eddie
saying—Eddie saying he  loved  him as Richie cried in his arms. No, that
couldn’t be right at all. “Not much,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
 
“No,” said Eddie. “I was getting ready for bed when you tapped on my window
like some regular Romeo.”
 
Richie smirked. “You’d be a  beautiful  Juliet, Eds.”
 
“Don’t call me that.”
 
“What? Beautiful?”
 
“ No ,” Richie was fairly certain that Eddie was blushing and for the life of
him he couldn’t figure out why. “Don’t call me  Eds .”
 
“Oh. So you want me to call you beautiful, then?” Richie teased. How was it
that it was always so easy to fall into a rhythm with Eddie, no matter how many
times they’d fallen out or not talked to one another. It was always so easy
with him. Why was Richie mad at him again?
 
Eddie blushed furiously and sputtered. “D—Don’t call me beautiful, either!”
 
“So, what should I call you?”
 
“Just Eddie!”
 
“Okay,  just Eddie , I didn’t, uh, do anything  stupid , did I?” Richie
scratched his head, that didn’t seem to ache as much as he stared at Eddie, or
tried to anyway (without his glasses, it was hard).
 
Eddie looked away and the moment the words flew out of his mouth, Richie knew
he was lying. “Uh, no. No.”
 
“ Riiiiiggghhhhtttt ,” Richie drawled, not believing him at all and he knew
that Eddie knew that. “Um, where are my glasses?”
 
“Oh!” Eddie brightened and turned to his desk and grabbed something before
walking over to Richie and placing the glasses in his palm. “Here.”
 
“Thanks, babe,” wow, that just sort of slipped out but once Richie put on his
glasses he could see that Eddie was blushing a wonderful red, completely
avoiding his eyes. Now that was weird.
 
“So, uh, I figure you’d like some aspirin or something,” Eddie was still not
looking at his face but fiddling with a bottle of aspirin by the bed and a
glass of water.
 
“Yeah. Thanks, man,” Richie reached out his hand and let Eddie shake out two
aspirin before handing him the glass of water. Richie swallowed down the pills
and laid his head back down on the wonderfully soft pillow on Eddie’s bed.
 
“Are you, uh, going to go to school today?” Eddie asked, still not looking at
him as he checked his pastel green backpack for all his stuff.
 
“Nah,” said Richie. “But I’ll get out of your hair and go hom—“
 
“ NO! ” yelled Eddie quickly. Too quickly. Something was up. “You can—you can
stay here, if you want. I don’t mind.”
 
“What about your Mom?”
 
“She already left for work, she won’t be back till late. Really, it’s no
trouble. You can even borrow my laptop and watch shitty movies on Netflix.”
 
“You’d let me do that?”
 
“Why wouldn’t I?”
 
Richie shrugged, not answering. “I guess I could stay here, if you really don’t
min—“
 
“I don’t,” Eddie interrupted. “Really, I don’t.”
 
“...okay, if you’re sure…”
 
Eddie smiled at him, a blindingly bright smile that made Richie’s heart hurt
and he said, “Great.  Great . I’ll be back after school, okay?” He hoisted his
backpack over his shoulder and made his way to his bedroom door. He paused and
looked back, “You gonna be okay on your own?”
 
“Sure, Eds. I’m used to it, really.”
 
Eddie’s smile turned sad for some reason and Richie had a moment of doubt that
what he thought was a dream was actually real, that he had actually told Eddie
about his fucked up home life, but Eddie fixed his smile back on, saying,
“Alright. See you later, Richie.”
 
“Bye, Eds,” Richie watched him go, and was decidedly  not  looking at his ass
he walked away, but it was hard. Eddie had a cute, pert ass that Richie would
die  if he got to touch.
 
NO! No! Bad Richie!  He mentally berated himself and burrowed further under
Eddie’s soft white comforter. He spared a thought to where Eddie could have
slept last night and looked to his right to see that the bed was slightly
rumpled, like someone had laid there.  Me and Eddie in the same bed, and I’m
blackout drunk?! Great going,  Trash mouth.
 
Richie closed his eyes as he felt the aspirin start to take effect and let
himself wander and float back under for some more sleep. He needed it after the
day he had yesterday.
 
He felt safe as he dreamed—and loved. He would swear when he woke up later that
he could hear Eddie’s voice whispering to him as he slept:  I love you .
Chapter End Notes
     I’m posting this on my phone so the italicize are probably wrong, but
     when I get access to a compute tomorrow I will fix it...
     So! Eddie said the big three words! Wonder what Richie will have to
     say about that once he knows it’s not a dream...;)
     song - drunk by ed sheeran
***** when i go out, yeah i know i'm gonna be, i'm gonna be the man who goes
along with you *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Eddie barely made it to lunch before he was doing what he had  never  done
before: skipping school. He was so worried about Richie, and scared that he was
going to leave while Eddie was gone and end up back in that hellhole he called
home. No, Eddie had to be there for him, now.
 
During the hustle and bustle of the kids racing to get to lunch, Eddie slipped
out the back doors, his heart racing. He snuck around corners and hid in the
parking lot until he deemed it safe enough for him to leave, then he was
booking it out of there, taking back streets and backyards until he reached his
house. He practically threw the front door off it’s hinges, barely pausing to
lock the door back before running up to his room like a madman. He banged the
door open, his heart beating like a little drummer boy, and for one horrible
second he thought his worst fears had come true and Richie  did  leave him,
until he saw him jerk up in the bed, his hair mussed with sleep.
 
“Eddie?” Richie asked croakily, his glasses askew on his face.
 
Taking big, gulping breaths of air to help himself calm down, Eddie said,
“Yeah, it’s me.”
 
“School’s over already?”
 
“Uh, actually, it’s lunchtime,” Eddie looked at his feet, embarrassed by
himself.
 
“Oh,” Richie said, fixing his glasses on his face. “Did you forget your lunch
or something?”
 
“Uh, no. I, um, wanted to come check on you,” Eddie mumbled, still staring at
his feet, feeling a horrible bright pink blush alight his cheeks. He was so
nervous that Richie would figure him out, know what Eddie said last night, and
that he meant it—every word.
 
“You—wanted to come check on me?” Richie sounded so surprised that Eddie’s
heart ached. “That—that’s sweet of you, Eds.”
 
“Don’t call me that,” damn his automatic response, but at least it got a smile
out of Richie.
 
“There he is,” Richie grinned, sitting up in the bed.
 
“How’re you feeling?” Eddie asked, finally looking him in the eye.
 
“Uh, much better, thanks,” Richie was still grinning. “That aspirin really did
the trick.”
 
“That’s good. I’m glad,” Eddie didn’t really know what else to say. He didn’t
exactly have a thorough plan of action when he ran over to his house, just to
make sure Richie was okay. He should go back to school, but he didn’t want to.
He wanted to stay with Richie.
 
“Thanks for uh, checking on me,” Richie scratched his head and looked away
awkwardly. Eddie could swear there was a blush rising on his cheeks, but he
told himself he was projecting. “If you wanna go back to school now, that’s
fine.”
 
“No!” Eddie said, a little too quickly. He shuffled his feet and tried to cover
it up by saying slower, “I mean—no.”
 
Richie looked at him and grinned again. “Skipping school for little ole me? Why
Eds, I’m flattered.” He touched his chest, putting on a fake Southern drawl.
 
Eddie felt a smile creep up on his face. “Don’t be so flattered. I should
probably do the mountain pile of homework I let accumulate last night since I
was helping your drunk ass.”
 
“Oh! You wound me so, Edward Spagedward!” Richie cried, and then a chuckle
escaped his lips and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh lightly back. Richie looked
at him, a gleam in his eye. Everything felt so easy in this moment, so free.
 
Silence fell for a moment as their chuckles died out and Richie seemed to be
thinking on something, for he had a faraway look in his eye, but he suddenly
said, “Hey, since this is your first time  ever  skipping school, why don’t we
make it memorable for ya?”
 
Eddie looked up at that. “What?” He asked, his heart thumping again. “What do
you mean?”
 
Richie’s eyes gleamed again and he grinned at Eddie, setting his soul aflame.
“Let’s go on an adventure, Eds.”
 
——
 
Richie didn't know why he suggested that he and Eddie go on an adventure, but
as he and Eddie walked down the street after taking a little trip to Richie's
house so he could change (he didn't understand the sour look on Eddie’s face
when he suggested that), he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He knew,
logically, that he should be pushing Eddie away, making him run screaming but
there was something on Eddie’s face akin to  determination  that made him think
that that would be harder than it used to be. And besides, one little
“adventure” wouldn't hurt, right?
 
“Where are we going?” Eddie asked as they walked towards town, his hands
stuffed under his arms, which Richie thought was so  cute.
 
“Well, I was thinking,” began Richie, “we could go get some ice cream.”
 
“Ice cream?” Eddie repeated, sounding confused. “In this weather?”
 
“ Exactly . In this weather, there'd be no line, it's perfect!”
 
“If you say so…”
 
“I  know  so,” Richie smirked sideways at him. “Me and my boys do this all the
time.”
 
Eddie didn't say anything. Instead he asked, “How’s your bruises?”
 
Richie shrugged. Truth be told, they hadn't be bothering him that much today.
He could get by with taking a few aspirin and feeling relatively okay. “I'm
fine,” he said. “That cream does wonders!”
 
“What about your hand?”
 
“It's fine,  Mom ,” Richie saw this look of utter disgust flash across Eddie's
face before he schooled it neutral. Richie didn't understand that, and for the
second time that day he had a flash of doubt of what he thought was dream
wasn't  a dream. He couldn't even begin to fathom the implications of that if
it were true. What if Eddie called the cops? His dad would  kill  him.
 
“Geez, Richie, can't a guy be concerned for you?” Eddie sneered instead and
Richie decided that no, it was a dream, and he didn't tell Eddie his deepest
darkest secret and Eddie--
 
Eddie didn't tell Richie he loved him.
 
Richie felt like he could live with that (maybe).
 
They walked to Derry’s one ice cream shop, a Baskin Robbins, with Richie trying
to fill the silence by talking nonstop, cracking jokes and ribbing on Eddie,
trying to get him to crack a smile. Richie felt smug, for he succeeded. Richie
was a gentleman and opened the door for Eddie, noticing in the fluorescent
lights that Eddie really  was  blushing. Richie didn’t think about how that
sent his stomach into backflips.
 
Richie was right, for there was no one in the ice cream shop and they were able
to make their purchases quickly. Eddie got himself a scoop of strawberry ice
cream while Richie got a large cotton candy milkshake, grinning at the way
Eddie muttered something under his breath about sugar and diabetes.
 
“What now?” Eddie asked as he brought the cone to his lips and gave a little
lick. Richie felt his groin tighten at the sight, seeing Eddie’s little pink
tongue swipe out and catch the strawberry ice cream before darting back in.
 
“The park?” Richie suggested. “I could push you on the swings~”
 
“Shut up, dickwad.”
 
Richie said nothing, just gave an obnoxious slurp of his milkshake, delighting
in the flavor that burst over his tongue. He  loved  Baskin Robbins’ cotton
candy milkshake, he always got it when he was in there.
 
He and Eddie walked in companionable silence as they made their way to the
park, which was situated right by the Barrens. Richie led them to a park bench,
the very same one he and his boys sat on all the time and they both sat down.
Richie was trying his damndest not to look at Eddie as he licked his ice cream
cone but it was coming increasingly difficult. Every once in awhile he’d sneak
a peek and there Eddie was, swirling his tongue in a way that made Richie’s
imagination run wild and he’d look away, a blush rising on his cheeks.
 
“You were right,” Eddie finally said as they sat on the park bench, looking at
the fall colors of the trees and the leaves that littered the ground.
 
“I usually am,” Richie smirked, lolling his head in Eddie’s direction, “but
what am I right about this time?”
 
“This ice cream was a good idea,” said Eddie. “I hadn’t been to Baskin Robbins
in awhile…”
 
“Yeah? Why not? I’m sure the Losers would go.”
 
“Yeah, I just—didn’t go with them,” Eddie looked away awkwardly and a pink
flush was on his cheeks, so Richie decided to drop the subject.
 
Silence fell again until Eddie spoke again, his voice quiet but lovely. “It’s
beautiful outside, today.”
 
Richie looked around the park before looking back him, the way his curly hair
rustled lightly in the wind, the pink of his lips and cheeks, his little hands
wrapped around the half-eaten ice cream cone, the way his legs were crossed
daintily at the ankles and said, “Yeah, it is.” He inwardly cursed himself at
how  gone  he sounded, how grossly in love he was.
 
Oh shit!
 
Now, Richie remembered what happened while he was out of it on oxy and vodka.
He remembered what he said to Bobby, how Eddie was the reason he was still
alive right now and how he felt when he saw him in the parking lot. He felt so
in love it physically pained him, but it also felt so good,  so good.  Like it
was meant to be or some shit. Looking at Eddie now, he felt the same feeling
all over again in the pit of his stomach.
 
“Eds,” He croaked out, his mouth working before his brain could catch up to
him.
 
“Yeah?” Eddie looked at him and Richie lost whatever courage he had felt in
that moment.
 
“Uhhhhhh I hope I didn’t wake you last night, I was busy doing the nasty with
your Mom,” nice going Richie, real smooth.
 
Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, right. You were passed out all
night.”
 
“Awh, did ya stay up all night looking after little ole me?” Come to think of
it, Eddie  did  look a little tired, but that didn’t take away from his natural
beauty at all.
 
Eddie flushed again and looked away. “Well, you  were  pretty drunk,” he
mumbled. “I was worried you might vomit and choke to death in your sleep.”
 
“All I’m hearing is that you were worried about me, Eds~” Richie sang, teasing
and feeling that light, fluttery feeling in his chest again.
 
“Shut up,” Eddie slightly bumped him with his shoulder and they locked eyes,
before bursting into laughter. They laughed and they laughed, feeling so
comfortable with each other. Richie couldn’t fathom it. He couldn’t understand
why Eddie was so determined to be friends with him again, when he let Richie go
so easily last time.
 
When their laughter finally subsided, Eddie spoke something so quietly, Richie
almost didn’t catch it, but he did and it made his chest  ache.  “I missed
this.”
 
Richie couldn’t help the words that spilled out, “Yeah, me too.”
 
Eddie looked up at him with so much hope in his eyes it was almost sickening to
look at him, but Richie didn’t look away. “Richie,” Eddie gasped, “I’m so
sorry.”
 
“For what?”
 
“ Everything ,” and then Eddie sobbed and Richie’s heart thumped painfully in
his chest. “I should have never,  never  let you walk away. I was an idiot and
I’m sorry. I’m so,  so  sorry.” Eddie was full on crying now, tears streaming
down his face in rivulets and Richie didn’t know what the fuck to do.
 
He chuckled nervously and hesitantly put his arm around Eddie, something he
hadn’t done in  years . Electricity ran up his arm at the movement and Eddie
audibly hiccuped and relaxed under his arm. “It—it’s okay, Eds. It was my own
damn fault,  really .”
 
Eddie shook his head vigorously. “No,” he said firmly, even with the tears
tracking his face. “No, it was  my  fault. I should have—I should have fought
harder,  refused  to let you go. You were—you were my  best friend , Richie.
And I’m so sorry.” He dissolved into tears again and Richie was panicking. He’d
never seen Eddie so upset, except maybe when he found out his pills were
placebos.
 
Richie didn’t know what to do, so he just rubbed Eddie awkwardly up and down
his back, trying to calm him down. “Shhhh, Eds,” He said. “It’s okay. It’s
okay.”
 
Eddie only sobbed harder. “No, it’s not! I was a horrible,  horrible  friend! I
let you walk and never looked back and I hate myself so goddamn much! I never
k—“ he broke off and sobbed again.
 
“You’re  not  a horrible friend, Eds. You were—you were my best friend too,
remember? And I—I just left, without an explanation or anything, and for that,
I’m  sorry,” the words were coming out of Richie now, fast and unbidden and he
knew he was opening up a can of worms that he’d long since buried but...maybe
if Eddie understood  why  he left, maybe he wouldn’t hate himself so much.
Richie didn’t want Eddie to hate himself, he was too perfect for that. “It was
my fault. It was all my fault. I did something—something that I shouldn’t have
and I—I paid the price.”
 
Eddie stopped crying and looked up at him, his doe eyes shining with tears. “I
know,” he said quietly. “I know all about that.”
 
“You do?” Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!
 
“You may have, uh,  mentioned  what happened that day after we built the dam
last night while you were wasted…” Eddie looked awkward, like he didn’t want to
mention this to Richie and Richie understood why.
 
He was having an internal freak out. If  that  part of the dream really
happened, then did that mean—?
 
Did Eddie really say he loved him?
 
Richie’s heart went into overdrive, pumping in his chest so painfully he
thought it was going to sprout wings and fly away, just like Richie felt like
doing. “ Oh ,” was all Richie was capable of saying.
 
“Yeah,” Eddie sniffed. “ Oh . I swear I was never going to bring it up! I
just—I just couldn’t believe it—your own  parents —“
 
“Your Mom ain’t nothing to scoff at neither,” said Richie, trying to divert the
attention away from the topic of his parents.
 
Eddie looked down at that. “Yeah, she’s a real piece of work.”
 
Richie couldn’t help it at that. He laughed a little and that brought a smile
to Eddie’s face. So, maybe Eddie did love Richie and maybe Richie loved him
back, but there was no way Richie was ever going to say anything, no way. Eddie
deserved better than him.
 
Way better.
 
——
 
Eddie eventually calmed down, and wiped away his tears, smiling up at Richie
who was still laughing quietly. He looked down and saw the milkshake that
Richie sat down beside him and said, “Your milkshake is melting.”
 
“Ah, shit!” Richie cursed and he removed the arm around Eddie’s shoulders to
grab at it. Eddie immediately felt the loss and tried to not to show his
disappointment on his face.
 
Richie slurped his milkshake obnoxiously and Eddie hit his arm with his elbow
but Richie only slurped harder, grinning at him. “Gross, Richie!”
 
“You love it,” Richie said, winking at him and Eddie smirked.
 
“Oh, yeah, I just  love  the way that diabetes waiting to happen slurps down
your throat.”
 
“I knew it.”
 
Eddie scoffed a laugh and shook his head, taking up his own half melted ice
cream and licking at the streams of ice cream that had run down the cone. He
looked up at Richie as he did, and saw an odd look on his face. A look he saw
last night when Richie was drunk out of his mind.
 
A  lustful  look.
 
Maybe,  maybe  Richie wanted Eddie.
 
Maybe he could work with this, maybe Richie wanted him the way Eddie wanted
him. Maybe Richie could love him the way Eddie did, all consuming and heart-
wrenching, gut twisting and heart pumping.
 
He licked the ice cream again, trying to look as innocent as possible and saw
that spark light up in Richie’s eyes again. And again, and again. Eddie smirked
inwardly again as he saw Richie literally rip his eyes away from Eddie’s mouth
and crossed his legs.
 
“You okay, Richie?” Eddie asked innocently, trying hard not to snicker.
 
“Yeah,” Eddie almost victory pumped the air when Richie’s voice came out
strangled and choked. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
 
“You sure?”
 
“Yeah,” but Eddie didn’t miss the way Richie’s eyes roamed over the melted ice
cream cup in his hand and how his eyes lingered on his mouth for a moment
before looking away. “Yeah.”
 
“Okay.”
 
Eddie wanted Richie, he wanted him so bad, and he was beginning to have a
feeling Richie wanted him too, if last night was any indication. That  kiss ,
that  kiss, that kiss!  Eddie couldn’t forget about that kiss and he wished
Richie didn’t either but—maybe he didn’t…
 
Maybe Eddie could show him, in small, little steps, that he loved him. That he
could take care of him, and help him and love him the way Richie always did for
him.
 
Maybe they could be together…
 
Maybe…
 
Either way, he was never going to leave him again.
Chapter End Notes
     Sooooooooooooo...some teasing yet tentative Eddie may be in the cards
     for the future ;)
     song - i'm gonna be (500 miles) by sleeping at last
     P.s. I'm doing this on my grandad's iPad because I don't have a
     functioning computer right now, so if it's shit, I apologize:)
***** and i’m a goddamn fool, but then again so are you *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Richie could swear Eddie was doing this on purpose.
 
It was Saturday night, and for once, Richie wasn’t going out to get high with
his friends (he had done that earlier that day). No, he was at Eddie’s house
for the fourth time that week. After their little “bonding” moment at the park
on Thursday, where Eddie confirmed that Richie had in fact spilled his guts
about his abusive parents when he was drunk the night before, it became an
unspoken agreement that Richie could sneak into Eddie’s room whenever he was
feeling suffocated in his house. Richie didn’t think about how that had been
every night since Wednesday.
 
And every night, Eddie was wearing those damn shorts. Shorts that framed his
ass perfectly, and that made Richie want to drool. Wow, what a looker Eddie
was.
 
Richie was so frustrated. He hadn’t had sex in weeks and was feeling pent up
with tension. And Eddie currently bending over in his room to pick up a piece
of paper that had fallen to the floor was decidedly  not  helping matters.
 
Richie tried not to groan as he pulled out his flask that he kept hidden in the
inside of his leather jacket and took a long pull off the vodka, letting it
burn down his throat. Getting drunk at that moment felt like a very good idea.
 
“Richie!” Eddie scolded, now standing up and glaring at him with his mouth
around the flask.
 
“What?” He asked, taking another pull. “It helps with the pain.”
 
At that, Eddie softened visibly and said, “Just don’t get rip-roaring drunk,
okay? I’d hate for you to puke all over my clean floor.”
 
“Yeah, yeah,” said Richie, putting the flask away. He looked at Eddie who had
sat down at his desk and was writing something on that piece of paper that had
fallen to the floor. “Whatcha doin?”
 
“Making a list.”
 
“Of what?”
 
“Of all the times you were nosy, it’s getting pretty long,” Eddie snarked and
Richie grinned.
 
He missed this, he really did. Some part of his brain was screaming at him to
push Eddie away, to make him hate him like he inevitably will, but a quieter
side that Richie was listening to told him to see where this was headed. Eddie
had  been his best friend once upon a time, and his company was like a balm on
Richie’s soul, warming him up and healing him.
 
It was a very slow process.
 
“Hardy ha ha,” Richie said. “What is it really about?”
 
“Stuff—for the Losers Club…”
 
“What kind of stuff?”
 
“What is this? Twenty Questions?”
 
Richie raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just curious.”
 
“If you  must  know, it’s a list for things for our annual Thanksgiving party,”
Eddie looked away, awkward.
 
“You guys have a Thanksgiving party?”
 
“Yeah. And a Christmas one too. We don’t have them on the  actual  holidays,
because some go out of town, but yeah, we hang out.”
 
“And do what?”
 
“Well, for Thanksgiving, we eat. Like a shit ton. I swear I gained ten pounds
on the last one,” Richie laughed silently. Eddie looked up at him. “Do you and
your friends do anything for the holidays?”
 
Richie scratched his head. “No, not really. Bobby and Tom always go out of town
and Sammy is a decided atheist so he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, soooo…”
 
“You can celebrate Christmas without believing in God,” said Eddie. “I mean—I
do.”
 
Richie looked at him. He didn’t know why he felt vaguely surprised, but he did.
“You don’t believe in God?”
 
“Not really,” Eddie shrugged. “I can’t really believe in a God who would send
me to Hell just for liking boys. Why? Do you?”
 
“Not really,” Richie echoed. His reasoning was silent but they both understood
it. Why would he believe in a God that gave him such shitty parents?
 
“Well, anyways,” said Eddie, changing the subject. “Would you...want to come?”
 
“To the—to the Thanksgiving party?” Richie felt his heart pump.
 
“Yeah,” Eddie wasn’t looking at him, still writing on the piece of paper.
 
“I’m not sure the others would like it…”
 
“I’ll talk to them,” said Eddie. “It could be fun.”
 
“I don’t know…”
 
“Just—think about it, okay? It’d be really cool if you came,” Eddie smiled at
him and Richie’s heart clenched painfully. He looked away.
 
“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
 
Richie hadn’t mentioned his late night excursions with Eddie to his friends and
he had a feeling Eddie hadn’t mentioned them to the Losers Club either. Richie
knew his friends wouldn’t mind but...he kinda wanted to keep this to himself.
He wanted something for himself, something that was only his, and it was good.
Maybe Eddie felt the same way. But if Richie went to that Thanksgiving party,
everything would change. Maybe the Losers would be okay with it, maybe they
wouldn’t be. How awkward. He couldn’t imagine sitting at Bill’s house (because
of course, that’s where everyone hung out) and having a Thanksgiving meal with
them. He supposed it would probably feel like an awkward family Thanksgiving.
He wouldn’t exactly know, he’d never had a Thanksgiving family meal.
 
Silence ensued as Eddie wrote out the list, scrawling it in big, loopy
handwriting. Richie watched him as he wrote, finding it adorable the way the
tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth while he concentrated.
Richie wanted to kiss that mouth so bad, but he kind of had a feeling he
already had, he just couldn’t remember it very well. All he could remember was
the feel of soft, sugary sweet lips against his own. Richie wanted to know if
Eddie really did taste like strawberries or if it was just his imagination.
 
But he wouldn’t kiss him (again) because Eddie deserved more, so much more,
than Richie. He deserved a nice, sweet guy who swept him off his feet and
wasn’t drunk or high all the time. Someone who didn’t crack lame jokes about
his Mom to cover up his own feelings of insecurity.
 
Eddie deserved better than that.
 
——
 
Eddie was going crazy.
 
Just how many hints would it take for him to drop until Richie stopped being
oblivious and started touching him? He had hoped the shorts would work, bending
over in them and showing off the ass he knew Richie thought was fantastic, but
no dice.
 
He got nothing more than a few glazed stares, and he was going crazy!
 
Eddie knew it was just the horny teenage boy in him, and he also knew that it
would do nothing to solve Richie’s long-term problems, but dammit, he wanted
Richie to grab him and pull him into a searing kiss like the one he’s seen
Richie share with others and bend him over! It didn’t help that Richie had
slept over every night that week since their “adventure” on Wednesday. Eddie
had to force himself to wake up early to deal with the embarrassing morning
wood he sported (he took a cold shower, he wasn’t  that  horny), because Richie
had the habit of rolling over from his side of the bed and curling around Eddie
in his sleep, like a big, overgrown octopus. Eddie hated to admit it, but he
liked it,  a lot.
 
Eddie never thought Richie as dumb, he was smarter than most actually, but it
seemed that in this department he was as oblivious as Ben was when Bev started
flirting with him (read:  very ). Eddie nearly had a panic attack yesterday
over the thought that Richie  did  notice but just didn’t say anything because
he was a nice guy and didn’t want to hurt Eddie’s feelings. That the kiss they
shared while Richie was drunk was just that, Richie being drunk. But then,
every once in awhile, Eddie would sneakily glance at Richie, like when he was
doing homework and his mouth was wrapped around the end of his pen, and he’d
see that same glazed, lustful look shining in his eyes, and he knew he wasn’t
imagining it.
 
The look was real.
 
Richie wanted him.
 
Eddie just had to figure out a way to get him to act on it, before he went
insane with sexual frustration. He was going wild with all the images his mind
conjured up: Richie slowly undressing him, their kisses hot and heavy, their
hands tangling together while Richie fucked his brains out...Eddie really had
to stop before he had a conniption right in front of him.
 
He tried to focus on the list he was making but was finding it impossible to do
so. He was pretty sure he’d written ‘turkey’ on there twice, so that was a good
indicator that his mind was elsewhere.
 
He sighed and gave up, putting the pink gel pen down and stretching his arms.
He was tired from a day spent at the Quarry with the other Losers and he
figured he needed a shower. He got up from his desk and rummaged around in his
drawers for some pajamas.
 
“What’re you doing?” asked Richie, who had pulled his flask out again.
 
“Getting some pajamas,” said Eddie. “I’m going to take a shower.”
 
Richie said nothing, just took a giant pull off his flask, not even grimacing
as the vodka surely burned his throat.
 
Eddie grabbed his pajamas and made his way into his pastel pink tile bathroom,
shutting the door behind him. He had his phone with him and a little external
speaker already set up on the counter. He liked listening to music while
showering, sue him. He turned the water warm and discarded his clothes,
thinking about the fact that Richie was just on the other side of the door. He
turned on his speaker and looked for his phone for some good music to play
while he showered. Smirking, he found one and hit play. ‘Do I Wanna Know’ by
the Arctic Monkeys filtered out of the speakers and Eddie had never felt more
brazen in his life.
 
He stepped into the shower and washed himself as thoroughly as he could, making
his hair smell like strawberries with the new scented shampoo he bought and his
body smell like fresh peaches. He felt so clean when he stepped out of the
shower and smelled so good, he thought there was no way Richie was going to be
able to resist him.
 
No way.
 
He took his time drying his hair (he never went to bed with his hair wet) and
getting his pajamas on, another set of shorts and an oversized pink Nirvana
sweatshirt. He was sure Richie was going to go crazy. Taking a deep breath, he
opened the bathroom door after turning off his music and the steam from the
bathroom filtered out along with the overwhelming scent of fruit. His
nervousness quickly turned to disappointment, however, when he notice Richie
sitting on his bed, shotgunning a beer.
 
“What did I say about not getting drunk?” God, Eddie sounded like his Mother.
“And where in the hell did you get that beer?”
 
Richie finished off the beer with a large burp, causing Eddie to grimace,
before motioning to his backpack that he had carried with him. “I brought all
kinds of alcohol, Eds. I was hoping to see you loosen up a little~”
 
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped. “And that feels an awful lot like peer
pressure to me.”
 
“Awh, come on Eddie! Just one little beer~” Richie sang, waving a beer in his
face before he turned mischievous. “Or are you too much of a pussy?”
 
“You’ve seen me drunk before, dopehead,” oops, wrong thing to say, Eddie
mentioning the night-that-shall-not-be-named, as Eddie called it in his mind.
He saw Richie’s face fall and he softened, grabbing the beer out of his hands.
“Gimme that.”
 
Richie brightened and cheered, before pulling out a pocketknife and holding it
out for Eddie to take. “You have to shotgun it.”
 
“I  have  to?”
 
“Come on, Eds!  Be a man !”
 
“Fuck you very much, Richie,” but Eddie was grabbing the pocketknife and
cutting into the bottom of the beer before putting his mouth over the hole and
cracking it open. Richie whooped as the Eddie gulped down the beer, and Eddie
felt his face flush from the alcohol and the sense of camaraderie between them,
even if they were currently underage drinking while his Mom slept in the
downstairs bedroom. Eddie finished off the beer and smiled wide as Richie golf
clapped him, and bowed cheekily.
 
“Nice, Eds. Very nice indeed,” Richie said, putting on a fake posh English
accent and Eddie giggled, already feeling lightheaded. Richie reached back into
his backpack and pulled out two shot glasses (where the hell he got those,
Eddie had no idea) and a bottle of tequila. “Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!
Shots!” Richie sang, ignoring Eddie’s protests as he poured them out on Eddie’s
desk.
 
“Why are you trying to get me drunk?” Eddie whined when Richie handed him the
shot.
 
“Contrary to what happened  that  night, I think you could be a fun drunk,”
Richie said, looking over the rim of his shot glass and giving Eddie an
indecipherable look.
 
Eddie said nothing and took the shot glass, downing it when Richie counted to
three and making a face that Richie seemed hilarious, for he burst into
laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” gasped Eddie as the tequila burned down his throat.
“Keep laughing, dickwad.”
 
“Another! Another!” Richie crowed, jerking the shot glass out of Eddie’s hand
and pouring two more. This time, Eddie downed it without hesitation and was
proud of himself for minimal face gag, although Richie still chuckled at him a
little. That asshole could probably down gasoline and make not so much as a
twitch.
 
Two more shots later and Eddie felt pretty damn drunk. He was swaying slightly
from where he sat on his bed, legs crossed Indian style and he couldn’t stop
the dopey smile on his face as he stared at Richie, who seemed to be doing a
lot better than him, at least externally. He looked at Eddie and smiled at him.
“You doing okay, Eds?” He asked, his voice only slightly slurred.
 
“Don’t call me  that ,” snapped Eddie and his voice slurred  a lot .
 
“You know you love it,” smirked Richie and Eddie sighed happily.
 
“I do.”
 
——
 
Oh, man,  deja vu .
 
Richie felt his heart go into overdrive as he remembered his dream. His dream
that involved that exact same line that Eddie muttered and the hot and heavy
kisses they shared as they fell back on Richie’s bed. He felt his face go hot
at the memory so he cracked open another beer, trying to dull the feelings.
 
It didn’t work.
 
Eddie was still looking at him with that lovestruck look in his eyes and Richie
felt his body begin to respond in kind, his own eyes betraying him as they
stared at each other. Richie felt truly drunk now and his inhibitions were
lowered considerably.
 
Maybe, maybe if he just kissed him once, it’d get whatever he was feeling for
him out of his system and they could just go back to being...whatever they were
now.
 
Yeah, maybe he could.
 
(Richie was an utter fool)
 
“Eds,” He slurred, leaning forward.
 
Those big, doe eyes of his looked up at Richie, so full of trust and love that
Richie didn’t feel like he deserved at all and said, “Yes, Richie?”
 
“I’m—I’m going to kiss you now. Is that—is that okay?”
 
Eddie smiled. “ Yes ,” he breathed and leaned forward too.
 
Richie reached forward and placed his unsteady hands on Eddie’s face pulling
him forward. Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed and he felt his own eyes close as he
brought Eddie in and their lips, they finally touched. Richie nearly gasped as
he felt the electricity run through him as their lips connected and he could
feel Eddie as he whimpered slightly into the kiss.
 
How cute.
 
Richie felt bold with the alcohol running through his system so he ran his
tongue lightly across Eddie’s lips that tasted faintly of strawberries (he knew
it!) and Eddie opened up immediately. Their tongues met in the middle and
tangled sweetly, and Richie felt himself groan silently. Eddie suddenly wrapped
his arms around Richie, pulling him even closer and leaning back until they
fell on the bed, neither of them breaking the kiss. Richie situated himself
between Eddie’s legs and felt as Eddie wrapped his thighs around him, rutting
his groin against Richie’s.
 
This time, Richie groaned audibly.
 
They finally pulled away to catch their breath and Richie kissed further down
Eddie’s face, sucking hickeys into his neck and Eddie moaned. It was like a
beautiful symphony to Richie’s ears, the best music he’d ever heard.
 
“Don’t stop,” Eddie breathed, curling his hands into Richie’s curly tendrils
and pulling, eliciting another moan from him.
 
“You want to?” Richie asked, breathless and excited.
 
“Yes,” said Eddie. “Yes, yes, yes!”
 
Richie grinned, his soul on fire, burning up his insides and he sucked another
hickey on Eddie’s neck before reaching down and pulling up his sweatshirt
underneath his armpits, exposing light tan flesh and rosy pink nipples. God,
Eddie was gorgeous. Richie latched onto to a nipple and Eddie moaned again,
sweet and soft. The sound went right to Richie’s cock and he rubbed his
hardness against Eddie’s, both of them groaning.
 
Richie traced kisses down Eddie’s front until he reached the bulge in his
shorts and mouthed over it, forming a wet patch. Eddie moaned and raised his
hips. Richie took this as a sign to remove those beautiful shorts, so he pulled
them down along with his boxers, exposing Eddie’s wonderful cock. It bounced to
life, slapping against Eddie’s stomach and Richie had to have his mouth on him,
now .
 
Richie grabbed Eddie’s cock in his hand and wrapped his lips around him,
tasting him for the first time—and what a taste it was. Salty and sweet, just
like his Eds. Richie sucked him all the way down, swirling his tongue over the
head and Eddie gasped, lifting his hips again.
 
“Oh—oh, Richie!” Eddie gasped.
 
Richie pulled off with a pop and smiled at him. “Yeah, Eds?”
 
“I love you,” Eddie breathed and then he stopped, realizing what he just said.
 
Richie stopped too and pulled away from Eddie’s cock, sitting up and adjusting
his glasses. He felt sick suddenly, real sick. Eddie couldn’t love him, Richie
didn’t deserve it. Richie didn’t deserve any of this. And what was he doing,
taking advantage of Eddie while they were both drunk. Richie couldn’t handle
it. He couldn’t understand how someone as beautiful and kind and vivacious as
Eddie could ever love  him .
 
So Richie did the only logical thing to do in that situation.
 
He ran.
Chapter End Notes
     :(
     Sorry this chapter is a day late, I’ve been having internet and
     computer problems and I’m still posting these on my phone for the
     time being, so please bear with me!:)
     All of you guys are great btw and I love all the feedback I’m
     getting, seriously <3
     song - the lion’s roar by first aid kit
***** it’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
I fucked up. I fucked up. IfuckedupIfuckedupIfuckedupIfuckedupIfuckedup.
 
That’s what ran through Eddie’s head all night Saturday after Richie turned
tail and left after Eddie drunkenly spilled his love for him, and all day
Sunday while he holed himself up in his room, crying with a massive hangover.
Wow, Eddie was such an idiot! He knew, logically he  knew  that Richie wasn’t
ready for a confession like that. Richie hated himself so much already, there
was no way he was going to believe something like that, especially when it was
coming from someone who was drunk. It was so much easier when Richie was the
drunken one, for it was a sure bet that he wouldn’t remember in the morning,
and he didn’t, until Eddie had to be the drunken fool.
 
God, he hated himself!
 
He hated himself while he got dressed for school that morning, brushing his
teeth vigorously and trying to put  some  effort into his appearance, although
he didn’t really feel like it. He just wanted to curl up under his covers and
never come out again, never face  Richie  again. But he had to, he made a
promise with himself to never give up on Richie no matter how much he fucked
up.
 
And this time, it was Eddie who fucked up. Big time.
 
He tried to make himself look natural as Bill picked him up for school, but he
must not have been succeeded for Bill looked at him in the backseat and said,
“You—you okay, Eddie?”
 
Eddie had been staring out the window (more like glowering) and jerked himself
out of his daze. “What? Oh! Yeah, yeah.”
 
Stan looked at him this time. “Are you sure? You look kind of upset…”
 
“Who’s upset?” Bev asked as she flung herself into the truck, sidling up beside
Ben and taking his hand in hers instantly. Eddie was immediately overcome with
jealousy. Why couldn’t he and Richie have that?
 
“No one,” said Eddie, snapping. “I’m fine. Really.”
 
The others didn’t look convinced and Bev gave him a look that said that they
were definitely going to talk about it later but gratefully, they all dropped
it for the time being. Eddie walked to his locker like a man walking to the
gallows, dreading and looking forward to seeing Richie, to see how he would
react seeing Eddie, to see if he would ignore him or not.
 
He did.
 
Richie walked right past him with his friends, laughing and talking and pushing
and shoving, and didn’t even give Eddie the time of day. Eddie would be lying
if said it didn’t hurt, a lot. He slammed his locker door shut and walked
purposefully past him, even shoving past him a bit and making his hips shake,
just to let Richie know what exactly he’d been missing. He refused to look at
him, too afraid of what he’d might see in Richie’s eyes.
 
“Dude, what’s little dude’s problem?” Eddie heard one of Richie’s friends ask
as he pushed past them on the way to his class.
 
“I have no fucking idea,” Richie said and Eddie almost stopped there and
whipped around to look at him disbelievingly but instead he just walked faster
and made a deal with himself to corner Richie at an opportune time.
 
But what in the hell was he going to say?
 
Eddie agonized over it all during the classes before lunch, going through a
million different scenarios in his head, 99% of them ending badly, while the
other 1% ended in Richie apologized for bolting and confessing his own love for
Eddie.
 
Yeah, right .
 
Eddie found his moment as he was walking to lunch. For once, Richie was alone,
walking in the opposite direction towards the bathroom, his hands in his
pockets. Eddie silently followed him, waiting until Richie was inside before
busting in, startling him.
 
“Jesus!” Richie cursed, his mouth around a cigarette and his back facing him.
He turned around and the words coming out of his mouth died on his lips. “ Oh
,” was all he managed to say.
 
“Yeah,  oh ,” Eddie ground out, slamming the door behind him. “What the hell,
Richie?!”
 
“What do you mean ‘what the hell?’” Oh, Richie was NOT playing that game again!
 
“Don’t play dumb, you know what!” Eddie yelled.
 
“No, I don’t!”
 
Eddie stormed up to him, and shoved him back. “We are NOT DOING THIS AGAIN!”
 
“Doing what?!” Richie screamed.
 
“I’m tired of you pushing me away! So we kissed, so what?! So—so I said I loved
you, who cares? It’s okay that you don’t feel the sam—“
 
“BUT I DO!” Richie screamed at him and then the cigarette fell from his fingers
in shock. Eddie just stopped and stared, just  stared . He couldn’t find words.
He never thought—“But,” Richie continued, looking at his feet, “it doesn’t
matter. You  can’t  love me. I’m no good for you, Eddie. I don’t—I don’t
deserve you.”
 
Eddie finally found his words. “Is that what this is about?” Richie wouldn’t
look him in the eye. “I don’t “deserve” you? What kind of bullshit excuse is
that?! Who cares if you deserve me or not? It’s not about deserve! We love each
other, isn’t that enough?”
 
Richie didn’t say anything so Eddie grabbed his hand, that was shaking, and
continued, “We can work this out, Richie. I’m not letting you walk away again,
I won’t!”
 
“I—I don’t know how to love, Eds,” Richie mumbled, still not looking at him.
“And I don’t know how to be loved either.”
 
Eddie’s heart broke at that statement but he kept on, determined. He reached up
and hooked Richie under his chin, forcing him to look Eddie in the eyes. “It’s
okay, Richie. We can figure it,  together .”
 
Then he leaned up on his tiptoes and pressed his mouth against Richie’s warm
and full of love. This was the first time they were kissing when either of them
was sober and if Eddie thought those kisses were amazing, then this one felt—
 
Magnetic.
 
——
 
Richie couldn’t believe it. He was kissing Eddie, and they were both sober! It
felt like a dream. A wonderful, magnetic,  crazy  dream.
 
And Richie never wanted it to end.
 
He grabbed Eddie’s face and pulled him flush to him, deepening the kiss and
sending his mind into a tailspin. Admitting to Eddie he was in love with him
was—it was gut-wrenching but felt so good,  so good  to just get it out there.
And Eddie was in love with him too, and kissing him, right there in that
bathroom.
 
God Richie wanted to fuck him.
 
He pulled apart and grinned at the way Eddie whined and tried to pull him back
in, but he stopped him whispering, “You wanna get outta here?”
 
“Like, skip school?” Eddie asked, those doe eyes shining with something that
Richie could describe as lust.
 
“Yeah, like skip school,” laughed Richie. “We could go to my place and, ya
know…”
 
“Fuck?” Eddie asked this so innocently, but Richie saw the mischievous glint to
his eyes.
 
Richie felt himself harden at that and said, “Yeah,  fuck . If you want to,
that is!”
 
“Oh, I want to,” Eddie pulled him down for another kiss, ending any further
conversation. “I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he whispered against Richie’s
lips.
 
“How long?” Richie breathed, feeling excited.
 
“Since I saw you sucking face with Janet Fourier in 9th grade.”
 
Richie raised a brow. “That long, huh?”
 
Eddie blushed, so pretty. “Shut up and take me the fuck home.”
 
Richie grinned, took his hand and did just that. They stole out of the parking
lot, deftly avoiding teachers and staff and half ran down the street towards
Richie’s house. “Don’t worry,” he called to Eddie as they ran, “my parents
aren’t home. They never are!”
 
“If I ever see your parents, I’m going to punch them both in the face,” said
Eddie in response as they ran up the doorstep to Richie’s house.
 
“ Hot ,” was all Richie could mutter as he unlocked the door before Eddie was
pushing him inside, attacking his lips with a ferocity. Richie slammed the door
shut and Eddie pushed him against it, wrapping his arms around his neck in a
vice-like grip. Richie ran a hand over one of Eddie’s jean clad thighs and
pulled it up over his hip, trailing it down until he finally,  finally  got a
handful of Eddie’s glorious ass.
 
Richie could right fucking sonnets about Eddie’s ass. It was plump and pert,
and filled his hand perfectly. He especially liked the way Eddie moaned when he
squeezed his cheek, and then lightly slapped it, startling out a crazed giggle.
 
“You like that, baby?” Richie breathed as they pulled apart, gasping for air.
 
“ Yes ,” was all Eddie said before diving back in, and sticking his tongue back
inside Richie’s mouth. His face was painted a pretty pink and Richie loved it.
 
He loved him.
 
RICHIE LOVED EDDIE!
 
He wanted to scream it from the rooftops. He loved this fabulous, sassy, sweet,
wonderful boy and somehow, someway, he loved him back. Richie couldn’t believe
his luck.
 
“Let’s take this up to my room,” Richie whispered when they pulled apart again.
 
“Okay.” Richie took his hand and led the way up the stairs into his room,
quickly discarding the bottles of alcohol on his bed and smoothing it out so
it’d seem somewhat cleanly to Eddie, but he didn’t seem to care. Eddie grinned
and pushed him back onto the bed before climbing over him and straddling him,
leaning down for another searing kiss while pulling at Richie’s clothes.
 
“Of all the ways I thought today would go, I’d never thought that  this  would
be the outcome,” Richie grinned as he pulled off his jean jacket and black
long-sleeved shirt, revealing his lanky frame.
 
“Me neither,” whispered Eddie as his eyes roamed Richie’s upper body, and by
the way Richie felt a jumping in Eddie’s groin, he very much liked what he saw,
which pleased Richie greatly. “But I’m not complaining.”
 
“Me neither,” Richie grinned and he sat up to cup Eddie’s face and pull him
into another kiss, more chaste this time, gentle. He never really shared gentle
kisses with the people he fucked, but Eddie was different. Eddie was the one he
loved.
 
Eddie leaned back once they stopped kissing and pulled off his pastel orange
sweater, throwing it somewhere across the room. If this was a different moment,
Richie would have commented on the lack of cleanliness Eddie was exuding but at
the moment? He was awestruck. Eddie was gorgeous. His light tan skin seemed to
shine from Richie’s point of view and his nipples were alert, meaning he was
just as aroused as Richie was.
 
“God, you are beautiful,” Richie couldn’t help but say and his heart thumped
painfully in his chest at the way Eddie smiled shyly at him.
 
“You think so?” Eddie asked.
 
“I know so,” Richie replied before surging back up and kissing him again before
running the pads of his thumbs over Eddie’s nipples, causing a kitten moan to
escape him.
 
Richie pressed kisses down the base of Eddie’s throat, and darkened the hickeys
he left the other night, making them stark and dark against his skin. He wanted
all the world to see, even if they didn’t make it public, that Eddie belonged
to someone.
 
Eddie belonged to Richie.
 
He belonged with Richie.
 
Richie was a fool, and he was never letting Eddie go. Even if Eddie one day ran
away screaming.
 
Richie branded his hands down Eddie’s front before winding them around his back
and cupping his ass again, getting two handfuls. “Your ass is the stuff of
dreams,” Richie couldn’t help but say.
 
“I know,” Eddie replied cheekily and if Richie wasn’t more in love with him,
wow.
 
“Oh, you know, huh?” Richie teased, slapping him more forcefully than before
and Eddie jerked against him, his arousal evident against Richie’s thigh.
 
“Oh, you like that?” Richie grinned. Eddie didn’t answer, blushing profusely
until Richie slapped his ass against, making him moan even louder. “Are you
going to be a good boy for me, Eds?”
 
It was a testament to how far Eddie was gone, for he didn’t tell Richie to not
call him that. Instead, he just nodded helplessly and buried and his face in
Richie’s neck. “I bet you’re a good boy,” Richie continued. “I bet you’re gonna
be so good for me.”
 
“Yes,” Eddie whimpered as Richie licked a long stripe from his ear down to his
collarbone.
 
“What do you want, baby?” Richie whispered to him. “Tell me what you want.”
 
“I want,” Eddie said, pulling back to look Richie in his eyes, “I want to put
my mouth on you.”
 
Richie felt himself harden even more at that, if that was even possible, and he
grinned. “Okay, baby, if that’s what you want.”
 
“It’s what I want,” and with that, Eddie pushed Richie back down on the bed and
moved so he was in between his thighs, mouthing at Richie’s clothed cock.
 
“ God ,” Richie cursed.
 
Eddie grinned and teasingly pulled his zipper down with his teeth, exposing
Richie’s black briefs with a noticeable bulge. “You want me, Richie?” Eddie
asked teasingly. How Eddie was able to sound so innocent at a time like this,
Richie had no idea, but it turned him on even more.
 
“Yes!” said Richie. “Fuck yes!”
 
Eddie grinned and pulled down his jeans, along with his briefs, exposing
Richie’s excruciatingly hard cock. Richie noticed how Eddie almost salivated at
the sight and said, “You gonna stare all day or you gonna put your mouth on
me?”
 
Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Beep beep Richie.” But then he leaned down
and took Richie into his mouth, all the way to the root.
 
“Holy shit!” Richie cursed, his back arching off the bed and his hands winding
their way into Eddie’s hair.
 
Eddie looked up at him with his doe eyes and sucked him up and down, with an
odd sort of expertise. “Have you done this before?” Richie asked breathlessly.
 
Eddie tapped the side of his nose and said nothing, just sucking Richie down
with an expert quality. He pulled back and jacked him off a bit, swirling his
thumb around his slit and making Richie see stars before taking him down again
and running his tongue on the underside of his cock. Richie’s hands were like a
vice in Eddie’s hair, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed like he
was enjoying it, based on the moans Richie elicited from him, vibrating
straight through his dick.
 
Finally, enough was enough. “Stop. Stop!” Richie screamed, pulling on Eddie’s
hair enough to pull him off his dick. At Eddie’s questioning look, he said, “If
you did any more, I was going to cum.”
 
At that, Eddie smirked wide and brought himself back up so his lips would touch
Richie’s and said, “Good to know I have  some  talent.”
 
“You have lots of talent, Eds,” said Richie, pecking him on the lips before
flipping them over so that he was on top. “You’re smart—“ he kissed his
stomach. “You’re funny—“ he kissed his nipples. “You’re sassy—“ he kissed his
chin. “You’re so good it physically hurts me.” At that he kissed his lips and
then Eddie pulled away, smirking.
 
“If I was so good, then how come I almost blew your mind sucking your cock?”
 
“See?  Sass ,” Richie grinned and kissed him again before finding his way to
Eddie’s jeans and fumbling with the button and zipper. Eddie grinned and lifted
his hips so Riche could remove the offending clothes and see his body in full.
“You are  breathtaking ,” he breathed once Eddie’s body was on full display.
 
“You aren’t so bad either,” Eddie smirked and Richie loved him so much in that
moment, he wanted to wrap him up in his arms and never let go.
 
“I want to—I want to do something, if that’s okay,” said Richie.
 
“Anything you do is okay with me,” Eddie breathed.
 
“I feel like you are going to regret that later on,” Richie smirked but he
grabbed Eddie’s legs and pulled them up so that they were folded before laying
down between them.
 
“What’re you going to do?” Eddie asked.
 
“Something that will  blow your mind ,” said Richie, then he spread Eddie’s
cheeks and licked a hot wet strip across his entrance.
 
“HOLY SHIT!” Eddie screamed, arching off the bed and instinctively clenching
his ass.
 
“Relax, baby, relax,” Richie cooed. “I’m gonna take good care of you, I
promise.”
 
Eddie nodded his head and screwed his eyes shut, letting Richie get on with it.
Richie licked into him, probing his tongue gently into Eddie’s taut flesh,
getting past the taught rim of muscle. Soon, Eddie was relaxed enough that
Richie could sneak a finger around his hole, teasing him until Eddie exploded,
“Just do it, already!”
 
“As you wish,” said Richie and he immediately thought about The Princess Bride
and how Westley always meant it as ‘I love you’. Richie supposed he did too.
Richie pushed a finger in and Eddie cursed. Richie had a feeling Eddie was not
quite used to the feeling. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” He
teased.
 
“What do you think, asshole?” Eddie ground out and Richie smirked, twisting his
finger just right and finding that spot that he knew drove men crazy, if the
reaction he got out of Eddie was any indication. Eddie arched off the bed and
gripped the sheets, cursing loudly.
 
“What the hell was that?!” He nearly screamed.
 
“You mean to tell me you’ve been gay all this time and you don’t know what the
prostate is?” Richie couldn’t help but tease him. It came as easy as breathing
to him.
 
“Shut the fuck up.”
 
Richie grinned and removed his finger, causing Eddie to whine beautifully until
he saw Richie fiddle with his bedside drawer until he found what he was looking
for: lube and a condom. He squirted a liberal amount of lube on his fingers and
inserted his pointer finger along with his middle finger, slowly but surely,
curling it along with the first one, making Eddie see the galaxies.
 
“Do—do that again,” Eddie panted and Richie obliged, curling them just the
right way to see Eddie’s cock jerk beautifully against his stomach.
 
Richie added one more finger, opening him up in the most amazing way, until
Eddie was begging for his cock. “Please, Richie, please,” He was saying, nay,
begging .
 
“Please what?” Richie teased. He wanted to hear Eddie say it.
 
“Oh fuck you!” Eddie cursed but he obliged, saying, “Please fuck me.”
 
“Gladly.”
 
Richie removed his fingers and rolled the condom on his cock, slicking it up
generously with lube. He grasped Eddie’s hips in a grip tight enough to bruise
and looked deep into those chocolate doe eyes. “You sure?” He had to ask, at
least one last time.
 
“As sure as the sun rises in the East,” breathed Eddie. “Just—fuck me!”
 
“As you wish, my love,” and if that didn’t set both of their hearts going at
light speed. Richie guided his cock to Eddie’s stretched out hole and slowly
guided himself in, taking his time, stopping whenever Eddie made any sign of
discomfort until Eddie pressed the heel of his foot in the dip of Richie’s back
and pushed him further in until he bottomed out, both of them groaning low.
 
“God, you’re so tight,” Richie cursed, the tight heat of Eddie pressed all over
him in the most mind blowing way.
 
“Do I feel good?” Eddie looked shy for whatever reason and Richie kissed the
look off his face.
 
“You feel  perfect ,” he promised. “Amazing.” He took one of his hands and
grabbed one of Eddie’s, lacing their fingers, making Eddie blush a beautiful
pink. “God, I love you.”
 
“Oh, yeah? Fuck me, then.  Move ,” Eddie said and Richie did as he commanded,
pulling out completely before sliding back in, startling out a moan from Eddie.
Richie grinned and kissed him before doing it again, and again before he was
picking up a slight rhythm.
 
He rocked slowly into Eddie, taking his time. He wanted Eddie to feel good, to
feel whatever he was feeling, which was all consuming love and adoration. He
pressed kisses along the expanse of Eddie’s neck while he rocked into him,
Eddie grasping for purchase on his back and into his hair, getting a groan out
of Richie.
 
“ Faster ,” whispered Eddie into Richie’s ear. Richie picked up the pace and
began pistoning his hips faster and faster until they were building up a nice
rhythm, the bed shaking. He must have been hitting Eddie’s prostate for the
noises he was making, moaning so nicely for him.
 
“You like that, baby?” Richie whispered raspily. “You like me fucking you?”
 
“Yes,” Eddie groaned. “Yes! Harder!”
 
Richie went even faster, fucking into him deep and full, all the while sharing
sloppy kisses with Eddie and both of them holding onto to each other for dear
life, afraid if they let go, the other would float away as if they were in some
beautiful, horrible dream.
 
“I love you,” Eddie breathed into Richie’s ear. “I love you so much.”
 
“I love you too, Eds. More than I can say,” they rocked together, one piece of
a puzzle fitting together perfectly, as if they were meant to be.
 
Maybe they were…
 
“Tell me,” Eddie breathed. “Tell me how much you love me.”
 
“I love you more than there are stars in the sky,” Richie ground out, hitting
Eddie’s prostate with every thrust. “I love you more than all the music in the
world—“
 
“That’s a lot,” Eddie laughed and was effectively shut up with a well timed
thrust to his prostate.
 
“I love you so much I can’t imagine breathing without you. That’s how much I
love you,” Richie could feel tears gather in his eyes and his glasses slid
precariously down his nose, but he didn’t care. He was with the one he loved
most in the world, and Eddie loved him back.
 
Eddie loved him back!
 
“Oh God,” Eddie cried. “I’m gonna come!”
 
“Me too,” Richie felt that familiar coil in belly, magnified to an eleven that
he was with the one he loved most, making love like there was no one else in
the world. “Come for me, baby. Come for me.”
 
And Eddie did. He came with a cry, not a touch to his cock, spilling all over
his chest and Richie followed suit, coming with a grunt and spilling into the
condom. He jerked and fell on top of Eddie but he didn’t seem to mind, running
a hand through his wayward curls and pressing a kiss to his temple.
 
“That was…” Eddie started.
 
“Amazeballs?” Richie finished and laughed at how Eddie rolled his eyes, but
still fond.
 
“Sure,” Eddie said. “ Amazeballs .”
 
Richie grinned and then slowly pulled out, smirking at how Eddie whimpered at
the loss until Richie kissed him on his forehead. He pulled off the condom and
threw it into the trash before standing up and walking to his speaker system
and booking up his phone to the stereo.
 
Eddie turned over on his stomach and watched him curiously. “What are you
doing?” He asked.
 
Richie said nothing until he hit the right buttons and there it was,  their
song. Richie loved the way Eddie’s smile lit up. It lit up the whole of
Richie’s world, his problems be damned. As long as he had Eddie, he would be
okay.
 
He would be okay.
 
He danced back towards Eddie and held out a hand. “Will you dance with me, my
love? For old times sake?”
 
Eddie mocked glared but took his hand. “I thought you said you didn’t
remember.”
 
“I was an idiot, Eddie—scratch that, I  am  an idiot, but I’m an idiot who’s in
love with you.” Eddie gave him his most blinding smile and Richie thought
everything would be okay, if Eddie just smiled that smile.
 
“I love you too, you  idiot .”
 
And they both smiled like the giddy teenagers they were and danced to their
song and all was alright in their world.
 
Everything was okay.
Chapter End Notes
     Happy, happy, happy!
     I hope you guys enjoyed that, I know I did ;)
     But fear not, for angst will come back (but maybe not right away)
     song - africa by toto
     Let’s play a game of how many pop culture references I snuck into
     this story (hint: there’s a lot)
***** give me love like never before, cause lately i've been craving more *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Eddie was so happy, so, so,  so  happy at the moment. He and Richie were lazing
in Richie’s bed, his stereo still quietly playing music in the background as
Eddie was cuddled up against Richie’s naked chest. Richie was tracing invisible
patterns on Eddie’s back and it felt wonderful.
 
It felt— magical .
 
They hadn’t said anything in awhile, just content to lay there and soak in each
other’s company until Richie finally spoke up. “What are you thinking about, my
love?”
 
Eddie smiled a giddy smile and buried his face into Richie’s chest, his heart
fit to burst in his own chest. “Just how happy I am,” Eddie answered, his voice
slightly muffled.
 
He felt Richie smile against his hair and say, “Me too. I never would have
thought—“
 
“That’s because you are an idiot,” Eddie looked up at him and smiled wide.
 
Richie grinned back and pecked Eddie on the nose. “That I am. But I’m  your
idiot.”
 
“Yes,” said Eddie, taking Richie’s hand in his and lacing their fingers.
“Mine.”
 
“And you are mine, my love. I’m never letting you go, now that we’ve—”
 
“Fucked?” Eddie smirked.
 
Richie laughed. “Yes, now that we’ve fucked. I love you, Eds.”
 
“And I love you too, Richie. With all my heart.”
 
Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie and pulled him up so that their lips were
barely touching before leaning in and sealing them in a heated kiss, licking
inside his mouth to taste him. Eddie loved the taste of Richie, even though he
hated cigarettes. It was so Richie, he didn’t care. As long as he got to keep
kissing him, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter whatsoever.
 
They were pulled apart by the chiming of Eddie’s phone, alerting him to a text
message. Richie groaned as Eddie sat up and grabbed his phone. It was Bev,
demanding to know where he was. He bit his lip and looked back at Richie,
lounging amongst his pillows. “It’s Bev,” Eddie said. “She wants to know where
I am.”
 
“So tell her,” said Richie easily.
 
Eddie blinked owlishly. “You—you’re okay with that? With them knowing?”
 
“I’m not going to keep it a secret if that’s what you’re asking,” said Richie.
“I plan on bragging to my friends that I nabbed the hottest piece of ass in the
continental United States.”
 
Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked at Richie’s legs as he grinned, but Eddie
felt nothing but fond. He opened up his texts and text Bev back.
 
Eddie: i’m at Richie’s
 
Bev: whaaaaaaaat???? What brought this on?
 
Eddie: we uh kind of confessed to one another that we loved each other and then
we, welllllll
 
Bev: YOU FUCKED?!
 
Eddie: ...yes
 
Bev: HALLELUJAH!! *throws confetti in the air* maybe this will remove the
asshole stick out of Richie’s ass
 
Eddie: we’ll see ;)
 
“What’re you smiling about?” Richie teased, sitting up and wrapping his arms
around Eddie’s middle.
 
“Bev,” Eddie explained. “She said she’s happy for us and that she hopes this
removes the asshole stick from your ass.”
 
Richie opened his mouth as if he was offended but the corners of his mouth
twitched, fighting a smile. “Tell her to don’t push her luck.”
 
“I kind of already did,” Eddie smirked.
 
Richie said nothing and rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder, kissing a hickey
he left there, causing Eddie to slightly shiver. After a moment, he spoke. “I
think I’ll go,” he said quietly.
 
“Go?” Eddie questioned. “Go where?
 
“To the Thanksgiving dinner, with the rest of the Losers. I think—I think I’d
like to go,” Richie wasn’t looking at him but looking down at the floor.
 
Eddie smiled so wide he thought his face might split in two. “Yeah?” He asked,
his voice not masking his happiness and excitement at the prospect. “You will?”
 
“Yeah,” said Richie, looking up and staring into Eddie’s eyes with such an
intensity he couldn’t help but blush. “I will.”
 
Eddie said nothing, just leaned forward and kissed Richie on the mouth, letting
Richie deepen it and pull him back into the bed, roaming his hands over Eddie’s
naked body.
 
“I want to have you again,” Richie whispered against Eddie’s lips. “Is that
okay?”
 
“More than,” whispered Eddie. “Have me, I’m yours.”
 
——
 
Richie felt like he was on cloud nine, no cloud one THOUSAND. To actually get
to  touch  Eddie, his precious Eddie in such an intimate way was—was  mind-
boggling.  Richie loved him so much, and Eddie loved him too.
 
Eddie loved him too!
 
It seemed as though the planets had finally aligned for one Richie Tozier and
he was sure as hell going to make the most of it, even if in the end Eddie
wound up leaving him. At the rate they were going, Richie was  never  going to
leave Eddie, it’d have to be the other way around. Richie didn’t want to think
about that as he watched Eddie sleep that late afternoon, tuckered out after
round two of—of love-making. That’s what it was, Richie decided.  Love-making.
 
God, Eddie was so  gorgeous  during sex, not that he wasn’t all the time but
during sex he just really ignited. For someone who had never done it before
(and most definitely not as frequently as Richie), Eddie sure was good at it.
Richie still wanted to ask how Eddie was so good at a blowjob but he thought it
better to ask in a different situation. For now, he was content to watch Eddie
sleep, his head pillowed on Richie’s chest, and Richie running his hands
through his curly locks.
 
Richie pressed a kiss into his hair and Eddie stirred, wrinkling his nose. “Wha
timisit?” He muttered sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.
 
Richie looked at his alarm clock. “Ah, about four pm. Sorry, I woke you.”
 
“No, no,” said Eddie, smiling up at him and Richie’s heart clenched painfully
in his chest. “I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.”
 
Richie shrugged. “It’s alright, Eds. I thought it was cute.” He pinched his
cheek. “ Cute, cute, cute !”
 
Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked his hand away. “Okay, I love you, but not
that  much. Quit calling me that!”
 
Richie figured he’d have to get used to the way his heart beat in his chest
every time Eddie muttered the words ‘I love you’ to him and said, “What? Cute?
Or Eds?”
 
“ Both,  you dickwad,” Eddie lightly shoved at him but he was smiling, so
Richie knew not to take him seriously.
 
“I think I distinctly recall you saying you loved it when I called you Eds, or
was that just a dream?” Richie teased, nudging him with his elbow.
 
“It was just a dream, Richie,” Eddie rolled his eyes but he also blushed,
showing Richie that he was not mistaken.
 
“Oh, come on,” said Richie, hooking his arm around Eddie’s neck and pulling him
close. “You know you love me.”
 
“God help me,” said Eddie, grinning, “I do.”
 
Richie grinned at him and then felt his phone vibrate. “Hold up,” He said. “It
might be my friends.”
 
“Okay,” said Eddie, kissing him on the side of his face.
 
Bobby: Hey dude, where were you 2day?
 
Richie: w/ Eddie
 
Bobby: little dude? What were u doin?
 
Richie: ...u kno
 
Bobby: fuckin??????
 
Richie: …
 
Bobby: holy shit dude! R u datin?
 
Richie: yes
 
Richie looked up at Eddie and said, “I told Bobby that we’re dating. Is that
okay?”
 
Eddie gave him a blinding smile, lighting up Richie’s entire being. “Totally,”
he breathed. “That is, if you want to.”
 
“Oh, I definitely want to!” said Richie, smiling. He fingered at the hickeys
stark against Eddie’s neck. “ Hot ,” He said.
 
Eddie half-heartedly pushed his hand away, grinning. “Stop it!”
 
“So,” said Richie, lacing his hand with Eddie’s. “ Boyfriend . Do you wanna go
out on a date?”
 
Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “What, like now?”
He asked, blushing profusely.
 
Cute, cute, cute!
 
“No, next year,” Richie playfully rolled his eyes. “Yes, like now. We could go
see a movie playing at the Aladdin and then—I don’t know—have dinner
somewhere?”
 
“You’d treat me to dinner and a movie?” asked Eddie, squeezing Richie’s hand.
 
“Oh, no. You’d definitely pay for yourself,” Richie joked, winking at him.
 
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered, shoving him with his free arm but he was grinning
wide. “What movie would you want to see?”
 
“Whatever you want, baby.”
 
Eddie seemed to think about it for a moment. “Thor: Ragnarok?”
 
“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” They got up and got dressed before
heading out the door, hand in hand. Richie felt so giddy, the electricity from
their contact going up and down his arm in waves. They giggled as they swung
their arms between them and then Richie spun Eddie, making him laugh in
surprise as they walked towards the theater.
 
God, Richie was so in love.
 
He bought two tickets to the movie and even treated Eddie to some snacks. He
thought it was  so cute  that Eddie wanted Raisinets. “You’re a little
Raisinet!” Richie teased as he pushed him into the theater, both of them
heading to the seats at the very top and to the very right, hidden from plain
sight of the other people in the room.

“That literally makes no sense,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes as he sat down,
throwing a Raisinet at him.
 
“You’re tiny and sweet!” Richie tried to explain but Eddie just rolled his eyes
again (fondly, Richie noted) and took a large gulp of his Diet Coke.
 
Richie tried, he really did. He was interested in the movie, had been planning
on seeing it with his boys for weeks now, but with Eddie just  sitting  there,
next to him , in a darkened theater, he couldn’t help it. At first, Richie
played it cool (although he suspected that Eddie was onto to him the moment he
made his first move), yawning and stretching his arm over Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie gave him a look but didn’t say anything. In fact, he snuggled closer and
even rested his head on Richie’s shoulder. Phase One: complete. Then, after a
few minutes, he began Phase Two, inching his hand towards Eddie’s covered
nipple, first just resting it there and then slowly rubbing over it in circles,
feeling as it hardened underneath his ministrations.
 
“Richie!” Eddie tried to chastise but he cut off into a little moan as Richie
rubbed him  just the right way  and even tweaked him a little bit.
 
“You know you love it,” Richie said, looking nonchalant as he sat there groping
him.
 
“Argh, fuck you,” Eddie groaned (more like moaned).
 
“That’s the idea.”
 
“We fucked  twice  today, Richie.”
 
Richie turned to him and grinned. “Why not go for a third?”
 
“Richie!” Eddie yelled and shoved at him lightly. Even in the darkened theater,
Richie could tell he was blushing. Richie pretended to play along, removing his
hand from his shoulder and resting it on the armrest between them, palm up.
Eddie took that as an invitation to lace their fingers together and while that
was nice,  real nice , that was not exactly what Richie had in mind. He allowed
it for a few minutes then untangled it, acting as if he was reaching for his
own drink. He made a show of slurping it, not taking his eyes off the movie
even though his mind was not registering what was happening, just a lot of CGI
and explosions. He sat his arm next to the armrest when he was finished and he
saw Eddie shoot him a disappointed look but said nothing.
 
Don’t worry, Eddie-bear  Richie thought to himself.  I’m about to make you feel
real  good.
 
He inched his hand underneath the armrest, coming to tug on Eddie’s jeans.
Eddie gave him a questioning look but let it slide, until Richie slid his hand
over his thigh and resting it on top of Eddie’s crotch. “Richie! What are you
doing?!” Eddie whisper-screeched, but Richie was delighted to notice that he
didn’t push his hand away.
 
“Making you feel good, baby,” Richie whispered, slowly unzipping his jeans.
 
“Richie-- ah !” Eddie’s half-hearted protest died as Richie slipped his hand
inside his jeans, beneath his briefs and grasping his already half-hard cock.
 
“Ooh, this making you excited, baby? You like being bad?”
 
“Sh--shut up,” Eddie stuttered as Richie jacked his hand slowly up and down,
bringing him to full mast beneath his clothes. Richie rubbed his thumb over the
head, teasing the slit and loving the way Eddie nearly bit his bottom lip off
trying to conceal his moans. One thing Richie was excited to learn about in the
past eight hours was that Eddie was noisy in bed, the good kind of noisy. The
kind of noisy that got Richie hard in his pants just thinking about it and boy,
it was true what they said about horny teenage boys.
 
Eddie noticed. Of course he noticed, and he smirked at him. “You like that,
baby ?” Eddie teased, rutting his hips in Richie’s hand and biting off another
moan.
 
“Eds, you drive me wild,” Richie choked as Eddie let him jack him off, faster
now.
 
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie breathed, his breathing picking up.
 
“Yeah. I fantasized about you before I even knew I had a thing for you, ever
since like sixth grade.”
 
“ Sixth grade ? You--you liked me then?”
 
“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t know it. I just thought I was projecting my new-found
bisexualness onto my best friend. And it didn’t help that you wore those
fucking shorts-- still  wear them!”
 
“You love them,” Eddie groaned, gripping the armrest tight.
 
“Oh, fuck yeah I do,” Richie whispered, his hand nearly going at light speed
now as he used the pre-cum leaking from the tip to make the goings easier. “You
gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me?”
 
“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, grasping Richie’s arm in a vice-like grip. “Yeah, I’m
gonna cum. Oh--oh fuck!” Richie grinned as he felt Eddie shoot off his load,
coating his hand in his sticky cum. Eddie jerked in his seat a little bit,
looking a little flushed even in the dark like. Oh, how Richie loved him.
 
Richie removed his hand and raised it to Eddie’s eye-level, making sure he was
looking at him through half-lidded eyes as Richie licked his cum off his
fingers. “Oh,  gross , Richie!” Eddie moaned, but he grinned all the same.
 
“You love me,” said Richie once his fingers were clean and he zipped Eddie back
up, patting him and making Eddie jerk and shoot him a nasty look, causing
Richie to laugh out loud until someone turned around and shushed him. Richie
made a show of nodding and putting a finger to his lips in a really sarcastic
way, biting his tongue when Eddie shoved at him so he wouldn’t laugh again.
 
The rest of the movie passed without further incidents, Richie content to just
hold Eddie’s hand for the duration of the movie. Once it was over, he dragged
Eddie across the street to a little pizzeria for the dinner part of their date,
ordering a half cheese, half pineapple. “Pineapple? Really Richie?”
 
“Are you honestly surprised?” Richie asked around a mouthful of pizza. “Come
on, you  know  me.”
 
“Yeah, I do,” Eddie smiled fondly. “And I guessed I’m not surprised, just--
grossed out.”
 
“Awh, come on,” Richie grinned, holding a slice out to Eddie. “Try it, I
promise it’s not gross.”
 
Eddie eyed the pizza as if it were about to grow a head but took it
reluctantly. “If I get poisoned by this, I’m blaming you,” he said.
 
“I already ate two slices and I’m fine, so--”
 
“That’s because you have a stomach made out of iron,” said Eddie but he took a
small, tentative bite out of the pizza. Richie smiled wide as Eddie’s face
contorted in the most hilarious way possible, twisting up into a grimace as the
pizza passed through his taste buds. “Oh! Oh, Richie this is  gross !” Eddie
groaned, spitting it out into a napkin daintily.
 
Richie burst into laughter, high on love for this wonderful, wonderful boy, who
hated pineapple on pizza. Who would have thought? “I love you, Eds.”
 
Eddie looked up at him, setting his napkin to the side and reaching across the
table to grasp Richie’s hand in his. “I love you too, Richie. So much.”
 
They finished dinner, Eddie not even looking in the direction of the pineapple
pizza and then they walked, hand in hand towards the park to finish their date.
It was very dark out but the park was lit up well. Richie led Eddie towards the
bench, once thought of as his and his boy’s bench, but now? Now it was  their
bench, his and Eddie’s. Eddie must have picked up on his line of thinking for
he smiled coyly at him as they approached it, swinging their linked hands
again. They sat down and Richie pulled Eddie into his lap, making him screech
in delight. Richie smacked a kiss to one of the (many) hickeys on Eddie’s neck,
making him shudder. “I love you,” he whispered into his ear. He just couldn’t
stop saying it. He was in love and he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to
the world.
 
He felt Eddie grin and play with their linked hands. “Oh, yeah? I don’t think
you’ve said it enough today. Maybe one more time.”
 
“I love you.”
 
“Mmmm, once more.”
 
“I love you, Eds.”
 
“How much?”
 
Richie grinned and opened his arms wide, their hands still linked. “ This
much!” Eddie giggled and Richie knew that was it. He was gone, he had fallen
hard. He was in love with little Eddie Kaspbrak and he was never letting go.
 
Not ever.
Chapter End Notes
     so I feel like this isn't my best work but i've had a tough few days
     with some personal stuff but i still wanted to get this out, so here,
     happy, fluffy in love Reddie:)
     song - give me love by ed sheeran
***** doesn’t matter, cause it’s enough to be young and in love *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Eddie didn’t know what to expect the morning at school. Richie had departed
from him the night before after their date with a searing kiss to his lips and
a “See you at school, Eds,” right on Eddie’s front porch like a stereotypical
date and Eddie had melted inside. He was a little disappointed that Richie
didn’t sneak into his room that night, but he figured that maybe Richie needed
some alone time to figure out everything that had happened between them in the
past twenty-four hours, Eddie knew he did.
He and Richie were boyfriends now, they had professed their love to one another
and fucked—made love. It was glorious and everything Eddie had ever dreamed
about, all the way down to the hand holding. God, Eddie had nearly swooned
(maybe he did). Richie treated him with such care and love that Eddie thought
he’d die from happiness. And then, Richie had taken him on a date! A date with
more hand holding and handjobs and disgusting pineapple pizza. Eddie had loved
every minute of it.
He prayed to God or whoever was listening, if anyone even was, that it would
work out between them. That Richie wasn’t just being nice when he said that he
told his friend that they were dating, that he wouldn’t go back to ignoring him
once they were back in school or worse, but it seems that Eddie’s fears were
unfounded.
After an awkward car ride to school with the Losers, with Bev giving him an
overt thumbs up and nudging his shoulder suggestively, Eddie made his way to
his locker when he saw someone tall, dark, and handsome leaning against it.
Richie.
Eddie watched as Richie’s face lit up as he approached, holding out his hand
for Eddie to take. Eddie blushed and did just so, reveling in Richie pulling
him in and placing a tender kiss on his lips. “Hey, Eds,” he whispered happily.
“Hey, Richie,” said Eddie, smiling like a fool.
“Did you sleep okay last night?” Richie asked him and God, if Eddie didn’t
already love him more than all the universe.
“I slept fine. It was a little lonely without you there…” Eddie looked at him
from under his eyelashes suggestively and Richie sucked in a deep breath.
“I’ll come over tonight,” he said. “I promise. Oh! Before I forget…” Richie
reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, typing in the passcode
before handing it over to Eddie. “Put your number in. We can’t be proper
boyfriends if I don’t even have your number.”
Eddie grinned and took his phone, typing in his number quickly and cheekily
adding little heart emojis next to his name. He handed it back to Richie, who
smiled wide at his antics before his fingers moved rapidly across the screen
and Eddie heard his own phone ding. Eddie pulled it out and saw a simple
message:
I love you, Eds.
Eddie smiled warmly and looked up at him, before pecking him lightly on the
cheek and whispering in his ear, “I love you too, Richie. So much.”
“Hey, uh,” Richie began as Eddie opened his locker to pull out his History
textbook and binder. “You wanna come sit with me and the guys for lunch?”
Eddie stopped what he was doing, shocked. “You—you mean with you and your
friends?”
“Yeah,” Richie was biting his lip and looking at the ground.
Eddie so badly wanted to say yes, but he was scared. “I don’t know,
Richie...what about my friends? I can’t just leave them…”
Richie looked up and smiled a smile so blinding that if Eddie was a different
person, he would have thought Richie was okay with it, but he wasn’t and he
read Richie’s pain behind his smile as clear as day. “Okay,” Richie said.
“That’s cool. I’ll see you after school then, yeah?” He made to walk off but
Eddie stopped him, grabbing his hand, ignoring the looks they were surely
getting now from the other students filtering in to get their books for first
period.
“Hey,” said Eddie. “Why don’t—why don’t you and your friends come sit with us?
There’s plenty of room.” Eddie didn’t want Richie to think he was embarrassed
of their relationship by any means and if this was the way to mend the
relationship between Richie and the other Losers, then so be it.
“You mean it?” Richie asked, and he sounded so terribly vulnerable that Eddie
wanted to hit something.
“Yeah. Yeah, come sit with us. I want to spend time with my boyfriend during
school.”
Richie grinned, leering at him. “Well, there is always the janitor’s clos—“
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie sounded nothing but fond.
Richie smiled wide, true this time and said, “Okay. Okay, yeah, sure, we’ll
come sit with you guys. I want everyone to know who my hot new boyfriend is.”
Eddie looked down at their joined hands and smirked. “I think they already do,”
he said.
“Well, then, let’s give them something really to gossip about,” and then Richie
pulled him in for another kiss, hotter this time and with tongue, before
pulling away grinning at him and leaving.
Eddie swooned and blushed to himself before closing his locker door and making
his way to first period, keeping his books close to his face to hide his stupid
grin. All during the classes before lunch, Eddie heard the barely concealed
whispers about him and Richie. Some sounded true enough and others were just
flat out lies.
“I heard he’s only with that scrawny kid because of a bet his friend made.”
“He doesn’t even like that kid, he’s just easy in the sack.”
“I heard them exchange disgusting ‘I love you’s’ before class. I didn’t even
know they knew each other!”
Eddie tried to ignore the whispers as best he could. He knew the truth and that
was all that mattered, but sometimes his anxiety just wouldn’t let him win. The
whispers were becoming too much as he made his way to lunch—finally—his heart
hammering in his chest. He was slightly afraid of what his friends might say,
what they might think to have Richie and his friends sit there with them. Eddie
found himself praying again to a God he didn’t even believe in that everything
would work out okay and that they would all get along.
Eddie walked through the cafeteria doors, carrying his pastel pink lunchbox
with cute flowers all over it and was immediately accosted by someone tall.
They wrapped their arms around Eddie and pulled him up off his feet before
placing him back down on the ground. Eddie jerked around, ready to tell that
person off, when he looked up and saw that it was Richie, laughing and smiling
down at him. “Hey, baby,” He said.
Eddie flushed and smacked him on the arm with his lunchbox. “Don’t scare me
like that!” He mock-yelled at him.
“Sorry, sorry,” Richie laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “You’re just
so cute, I couldn’t help it!”
Eddie screwed up his lips and tried to glare at him, but he felt that he
probably wasn’t succeeding. Richie’s eyes sparkled beneath his glasses and he
said, “Wanna brave the lunch line with me? Not all of us bring our lunches.”
Eddie spared a look around the lunchroom and saw that Stan and Bill were
already sitting at their lunch table and looking directly at Eddie and Richie.
Eddie looked away and grabbed Richie’s hand, saying, “Sure.”
They walked to the line, still filling up because Eddie always got to the
lunchroom early and Eddie stood there with Richie while he piled food on food
onto his lunch tray. He got the spaghetti and the roll, along with two fruit
cups and three bags of chips, and mashed potatoes and gravy. “I don’t know how
you can eat that,” Eddie said, staring at the food on Richie’s plate.
“It’s sooooo good, Eds. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Richie grinned
as he pulled away from the lunch line with his food. He looked at Eddie and
must have noticed the trepidation on his face as they faced the Losers table
and balanced his tray on one hand and took Eddie’s in the other. “You ready?”
Eddie looked at him and felt Richie’s strength and bravery flow through his
fingertips into Eddie and for once in his life, he felt truly courageous. If
Richie was there, holding his hand, he thought he could always be brave. He
smiled up at Richie and said, “Yes. With you? Always.”
===============================================================================
Richie felt his heart pound loudly in his chest as he walked hand in hand
towards the Losers table. Bev and Ben were sitting there now with Bill and
Stan, only Mike was yet to show up and Richie felt as if he were about to
vomit. He felt a little better when Eddie squeezed his hand as they approached
the table, and Eddie sat his lunchbox down, motioning for Richie to put his
tray down.
“Hey, guys,” said Eddie. “Richie’s going to sit here today, okay?” Richie loved
that Eddie didn’t pose it as a question, not giving any of the Losers a say.
Bev actually smiled at them. “Okay, Eddie,” she said. “How are you, Richie?”
“Peachy keen, Bev-Bev,” the nickname just slipped out and for a moment Richie
thought she’d be mad but she just smiled brighter at him.
“That’s good. I’m so happy for you two.”
“Yeah?” asked Richie. “Me too.” He looked over and smiled at Eddie, grasping
his hand under the table.
“Hey, guys!” said Mike, bounding up to the table with his tray. When he noticed
Richie with Eddie, he paused. “Uh, hey Richie.”
“Hey, Micycle. What’s up?”
Mike smiled hesitantly, but bright. “Not much, football practice after school
today. You?”
Richie shrugged. “Not much. I have work after school.”
“Yeah, you work at the gas station, right?” Ben asked, chewing on an apple.
“That’s right. Pay is shit but it’s enough for my needs,” Richie paused,
scoping out the cafeteria for his friends. They were always late. He saw them
and started waving his free hand obnoxiously in the air, screaming, “DUDES!
OVER HERE!”
Bobby, Tom, and Sammy grinned at him, having already heard the news from Richie
earlier that day that they were going to sit with the Losers Club and made
their way over to the table. “Hello, lady and germs,” Tom giggled, pulling
Richie into a headlock and ruffling his hair before letting go and sitting down
beside him, Bobby and Sammy next to him.
“Asshole! You ruined my perfect curls!” Richie pretended to be mad at him but
they both burst into laughter after looking each other seriously in the eyes
for a moment.
“Yeah, right!” laughed Sammy, taking a huge bite out of his pizza that he
brought from home. “Your hair is a bird’s nest if I ever saw one!”
“I happen to like his hair, thank you very much!” Eddie said and then his face
burned as if he hadn’t meant to say that.
Richie exchanged surprised looks with his friends and then burst into laughter
again. Richie grabbed Eddie and pulled him close, kissing his forehead. Eddie
squirmed but seemed happy they weren’t mad at him, quite the contrary in fact.
“You hear that boys?” Richie asked. “My boyfriend has spoken!”
“So, it’s official then?” Stan suddenly asked.
Richie stopped messing with Eddie and looked at him. “Yeah, it’s official.”
Stan twisted his lips and then did something neither Richie nor Eddie really
expected.
He smiled.
“Good,” Stan said. “I’m happy for you. You better not mess this up,
Trashmouth.”
Richie raised his hands in mock surrender but Eddie lashed out, snapping,
“Don’t call him that!”
“What?” Bill asked. “Tr—Trashmouth? W—we’ve always c—called him that.”
“Well, not anymore,” said Eddie. “Drop it.”
Richie couldn’t quit staring at him, so lost and in love that finally Bobby
snapped him out of it. “Dude. Hey, dude!”
“Huh! What?”
“You going to Michelle’s party this weekend?”
“Michelle’s throwing a party?”
“Yeah, we talked about it the other day.”
“Sorry,” Richie grinned, leaning over to tickle Eddie. “I’ve just been
distracted.”
Sammy raised an amused eyebrow. “We’ve noticed.”
Bobby continued on. “It’s going to be wild—“
“Michelle’s parties usually are,” said Richie.
“Come on, say you’ll come! We’ve barely had any fun with you lately!” Richie
looked at his friends and the pleading eyes they made and sighed.
“Alright,” He said. “I’ll go. As long as this one—“ he grabbed Eddie, making
him shriek in delight. “—can come with me.”
“That’s fine, dude,” said Bobby. “In fact, all of you guys can come.”
The other Losers engaged Bobby in a discussion about the party while Eddie
pulled Richie aside and whispered in his ear. “Are you sure you want me at the
party?” He asked.
“What? Of course I do,” said Richie. “I told you: I gotta show off my
boyfriend.”
Eddie blushed and looked down at his hands, fiddling with some applesauce.
“Just—promise you won’t let me get drunk.”
“Too drunk,” Richie amended, grinning. “A little drunk’s okay.”
Eddie elbowed him teasingly and Richie untangled their hands so he could throw
his arm around Eddie and pull him close, kissing his forehead again, making
Eddie burn with happiness. They finished their lunch with the others happily
and Richie spared a thought that they should do this more often, that maybe he
and his friends and the Losers could coexist for the sake of him and Eddie.
It’s what would make him the most happy.
Maybe—just maybe—he deserved some happiness of his own. Eddie was showing him
that, slowly but surely.
===============================================================================
Eddie finished his homework that night with a newfound zeal, excited to have
Richie over and in his bed, even if they wound up just kissing. It was amazing
how one night could make Eddie miss him so much, even though he saw him at
school and at lunch.
Lunch.
It was incredible how well lunch had gone with the Losers and Richie’s friends.
Eddie never realized how nice they were and how much they cared for Richie,
almost as much as Eddie cared for him—which was a lot. The big one, Bobby, was
intimidating looking but was actually a big teddy bear. Sammy was a stoner,
sure, but he cared so much. And Tom was like a slightly less Richie clone.
Eddie came to find during that lunch hour that he liked all of them, and maybe
they liked him, if the sky looks they gave him were any indication. It was ten
o’clock now, and Eddie was about to just give up and go to bed. He’d been
texting Richie back and forth, when he had breaks in work, but that was four
hours ago. He was a little worried.
He had just changed into his pajamas when he heard a clanging on his bedroom
window and rushed to it to see Richie on the ledge, smiling like a fool.
“Richie!” He whisper-screamed. “What the hell?”
“I thought we agreed I’d come over tonight,” Richie said, sounding a bit off,
but not too much so Eddie let it slide and let him in.
“Yeah, but…” Eddie didn’t know what to say, watching Richie right himself in
his room and smile brightly at him. He sniffed the air. “Are you—are you
high?!”
“Only on weed, my love,” Eddie couldn’t help but blush at that and he took
Richie’s hand, threading their fingers together.
“Oh, if it’s only weed then,” Eddie teased, but Richie pulled him in for a
kiss, silencing any further protests he had—he didn’t.
“Is your Mom asleep?” Richie whispered against his lips.
“Yeah, passed out about an hour ago, watching reruns of some show,” Eddie said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to fuck you into the mattress,” said Richie matter-of-factly.
“Is that okay?”
Eddie felt himself blush. “More than.” He leaned in and kissed Richie again,
sliding his tongue across his lower lip until Richie opened up, letting Eddie
slide his tongue across his. Richie pushed him backwards, until the backs of
Eddie’s knees hit his bed and he fell back, Richie on top of him, kissing his
mouth with a fervor.
“Gotta get you naked,” Richie whispered, pulling at Eddie’s sweatshirt, yanking
it over his head and revealing Eddie’s soft tan skin. “So beautiful,” Richie
murmured before leaning down and capturing one of Eddie’s rosy nipples in his
mouth, causing Eddie to cry out with pleasure. Richie laved over the nipple
with his tongue, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb over the other one.
Eddie squirmed, feeling overcome.
Richie reached his other hand down over Eddie’s short clad thighs, hooking one
of them over his hip and caressing his ass through the material. “Have I told
you how much I love your ass?” Richie grinned, squeezing one of the cheeks.
Eddie blushed. “Not today,” he teased and Richie left his nipples for a moment
to kiss him again, languidly stroking his tongue with Richie’s own before
pulling back and kissing down his neck, making the hickeys stark again. Eddie
was surprised no one said anything about them that day at school, but he
figured no one wanted to broach the subject with him.
Richie sat up and removed his shirt, Eddie reaching up and rubbing the pads of
his thumbs over Richie’s nipples, delighting in the way he shuddered. “I want
to suck your dick,” said Richie. “Can I?”
Eddie laughed, feeling giddy. “Is that even a question?”
Richie grinned and pulled down Eddie’s shorts and bright pink briefs, exposing
his hard cock. “God, everything about you is gorgeous,” said Richie, settling
between his legs and mouthing at his inner thighs. Eddie shuddered with
pleasure and blushed all the way down to his chest.
Richie kissed and nipped at his thighs, sucking hickeys in the soft flesh,
causing Eddie to writhe and moan. “Just—get on with it already!” Eddie nearly
screamed, ready for Richie to get his mouth on him.
Richie grinned up at him and kissed up to the base of his cock, grasping the
base before licking a stripe from root to tip, causing Eddie to cry out but
quickly muffle his moans with a fist to his mouth, biting down hard enough to
draw blood as Richie took him fully in his mouth and bobbed his head up and
down, deep throating him. Eddie cursed into his fist and lifted his hips. He
could feel his cock hit the back of Richie’s throat but he didn’t gag, in fact
he moaned around his cock, sending vibrations up Eddie’s body.
“F—fuck,” Eddie stuttered, winding his hands in Richie’s curls and pulling on
the strands.
Richie moaned again and slurped even more enthusiastically, if that was
possible. “You—you like me pulling on your hair?” Eddie asked, feeling excited
when Richie nodded happily. He tugged again and delighted in the way Richie
just completely fell apart, melting into the mattress as he sucked.
“Fuck,” Eddie moaned, feeling a tightening in his belly. “Fuck! Stop! Stop!” He
tugged on Richie’s hair hard enough to pull him off. At Richie’s questioning
look, he burned and said, “I don’t wanna come yet. I want to come with you
inside me.”
Richie grinned and sat up, fumbling with his jeans until he finally slipped
them off after taking out a condom and a lube packet. Eddie raised an eyebrow
at that. “Expecting to get lucky tonight?” He teased.
Richie shrugged. “Just hopeful. I’m in love with this wonderful, amazing boy.”
“Oh, yeah? Tell me about him,” Richie motioned for Eddie to turn over so he
did, exposing his ass to him. He melted as Richie ran a callused hand over his
cheek, warming up the skin. He heard the lube packet rip open and braced
himself for the cold feeling against his entrance.
“He’s—he’s something else, Eds,” Richie said, snaking a finger up to Eddie’s
entrance, teasing before lightly pushing inside.
“Yeah?” Eddie breathed.
“Yeah,” Richie sounded so dopily in love, Eddie would have felt jealous if he
didn’t know Richie was talking about him. “He’s so strong, Eds. So strong. So
loyal and caring, it makes my chest ache. He used to be the cutest little
hypochondriac and I would have done anything for him—would do anything for him.
I love him so much. He’s my world, has been for a long time, I’ve just been too
blind to see it. His fire matches my fire in the most amazing way possible and
I—“ he broke off, working a second finger inside of Eddie.
“You what?” Eddie asked breathily.
“I—I wanna spend the rest of my life with him,” Richie said this with so much
conviction that Eddie almost burst into tears, because that’s what he wanted
to. He wanted it so bad.
“Well, I have it on good authority—ah—that he wants that too,” Eddie gripped
his sheets tightly as Richie worked a final finger inside of him.
“He does?”
“Oh, yeah. More than life itself.”
The fingers were removed suddenly and Eddie heard the telltale sign of the
condom being ripped open and the lube being distributed before he felt Richie’s
large cock against his entrance. Richie lightly laid on top of him, pulling
Eddie’s hips to meet his and whispered into his ear, “I love you, Eddie.”
Eddie felt like crying he was so happy. “I love you too.”
Richie braced his hands on Eddie’s hips before slowing pushing in, going past
the rim and slowly bottoming out. They both let out a low groan at the feeling
and Richie breathed, “God, you are perfect. So tight for me, so beautiful.”
Eddie moaned. “Move,” he breathed out. Richie pulled back out before slamming
back in. He did this a few times before building up a rhythm, pounding him into
the mattress. Eddie grasped the bed for purchase but suddenly Richie sat up and
pulled Eddie along with him, Eddie sitting in his lap, hopping up and down on
his cock. Richie grabbed his face and pulled it back so they could sloppily
kiss each other. Eddie wound his hand into Richie’s curls and pulled, loving
the way Richis hips stuttered in their assault on Eddie’s prostate for a moment
before resuming with more force, grasping his hips with a bruising force.
Eddie loved every second of it.
“Turn—turn around,” Richie whispered. “Wanna see your face.” Eddie did as he
said, gently letting Richie’s cock slide out before turning over and laying on
his back, spreading his legs wantonly.
“God, you are such a good boy,” Richie groaned before pushing in again and
watching as Eddie’s face twisted up in pleasure.
He grasped Eddie’s hand in his and laced their fingers together, Eddie felt
like he was about to burst with happiness and love. Richie pressed kisses to
his neck and collarbone as he pumped into him, attacking Eddie’s prostate with
every thrust. Eddie gripped his other hand on Richie’s back, digging the blunt
nails into the flesh there and leaving marks on top of the ones he left the day
before.
“I love you, I love you,” Eddie could hear tears in Richie’s voice and fought
his own, just holding Richie close to him as he brought them closer and closer
to the edge.
Eddie felt his stomach begin to burn. “I’m—I’m close!”
“Me too,” Richie gasped, his hips going at an impossible pace. “Me too. Come
for me, baby. Come for me.” He reaches a hand between them and jacked Eddie off
in time with his thrusts and before he knew it, he was shooting off,
splattering their chests with come.
Richie groaned and his hips stuttered as he came too, settling down on top of
Eddie. Eddie figured he didn’t care about the come on his chest as he laid
down, breathing heavily. Eddie wound his hand back into Richie’s curls, lightly
tugging and curling them, delighting in the way Richie lightly moaned with
pleasure.
“Never leave me,” Richie said as he kissed the side of Eddie’s face, leaving an
imprint on Eddie’s soul for all eternity.
“Never.”
Chapter End Notes
     I know, I know, it’s been a week since I posted last and I just
     wanted to say I’m sorry for that but some personal/mental health
     issues came up and it was VERY difficult to write at the time :/
     But I’m okay :) (also a little tipsy posting this, oops)
     Hope y’all enjoy another fluff/smut chapter ;)
     song - love by lana del rey
***** i can feel the beat of the night in my chest *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“What about this one?” Eddie held up the fifth shirt of the night, a pastel
blue button down shirt. Bev was sitting on his bed, typing on her phone. She
was already all dressed up for the party, in one of her many homemade dresses
with cute brown ankle boots and fuzzy grey socks.
 
She looked up from her phone and sighed, “Come on, Eddie. You’re worse than a
girl. Just pick a damn shirt!”
 
“I just wanna look good, Bev! Is that so bad? I don’t wanna embarrass Richie in
front of everyone,” Eddie looked down at his scrupulously clean white Converse
covering his feet.
 
Bev expression softened and she laughed a little, giggling. “I think  Richie
would be the one embarrassing you tonight. He loves you, Eddie. He wouldn’t be
embarrassed of you. If you showed up tonight in a potato sack, he’d be making
heart eyes at you and showing you off to everyone at the party, I swear.”
 
Eddie looked up, blushing. “You think so?”
 
“I  know  so. Now, put on the pink shirt and some cologne, because he’s going
to pick you up in five.”
 
Eddie looked down at the alarm clock on his bedside table and cursed. It read
7:55. He quickly threw on the pastel pink button down he’d discarded earlier
and spritzed some cologne, making himself smell good. His Mom was out for the
night, thank God, although she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from going
to the party anyways. He’d have snuck out if he had to or just straight up
walked out if she sad no, consequences be damned. She didn’t really have a hold
over him anymore and she knew it.
 
Exactly five minutes later, Eddie heard the sound of a truck pull up outside
his house and he ran to the window to see Richie hop out, clad in tight black
jeans, combat boots, and a loose-fitting black shirt that buttoned up. It was
unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing the lean muscles there. Eddie
nearly salivated at the sight. Richie had a cigarette in his lips and his eyes
seemed to automatically track up to Eddie’s bedroom window, seeing him there
and waving like a madman. Eddie couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him
before he disappeared from the window, both he and Bev heading downstairs and
out the front door.
 
He nearly banged the door open and saw Richie there in all his glory, the
cigarette still dangling from his lips as he smiled at Eddie, that smile Eddie
had quickly come to know was only reserved for him. Richie removed the
cigarette and blew the smoke off to the side, holding out his hand. “Hey, Eds.
You look fucking amazing. You ready to party?”
 
Eddie ignored the look Bev shot his way that oozed  I told you so  and took
Richie’s outstretched hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said and let Richie
pull him towards the truck, piling in the backseat with Tom, Richie, and Bev.
It was a snug fit but it worked.
 
“Hey, little dude!” said Sammy from the front seat. “Bev-Bev!”
 
“Hey, Sammy,” said Bev politely and Eddie nodded at him, curling under Richie’s
arm that he threw around his shoulders.
 
“I missed you,” murmured Richie in Eddie’s ear and Eddie felt himself blush.
 
“You just saw me at school five hours ago,” Eddie tried to grumble but he
sounded fond even to his own ears.
 
Richie just chuckled and pressed a kiss to his head before brushing a knuckle
down his face, as if memorizing it. “You just wanna stay by my side tonight,
Eds?” He asked after a moment.
 
Eddie looked up at him. He had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that
Richie would go around and mingle with the denizens of the party, leaving Eddie
with the other Losers, hopefully with a cup of  something  in his hand, so it
surprised him to hear that. But made him happy nonetheless. He smiled, “Yeah.
Yeah, I’d like that.”
 
Richie smiled brightly. “Cool,” He said, sounding pleased. “We can dance again,
Eddie Spaghetti.”
 
“I’ll dance with you,” said Eddie, grinning. “As long as you don’t call me
that.”
 
“Anything for my Eds.” The truck stopped and Eddie looked up, noticing they
were already at the party. It was completely pitch black outside, but you could
see the party happening inside, with strobe lights pulsating and music pouring
out the revolving door of partiers. Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand. “You ready?”
He asked.
 
“Yes.”
 
They hopped out the truck with the others and saw as Bill’s truck pulled up
behind them. Bev ran to the truck, eager to catch her boyfriend who jumped out
almost immediately and kissed her, spinning her around. “Those two are almost
as bad as us,” Richie mock whispered to Eddie as they watched Ben and Bev
exchanged sweet kisses.
 
“Almost,” Eddie snarked, smirking up at him and Richie leaned down to kiss him
on the lips after stomping out the remains of his cigarette. Eddie felt his
heart bubble up inside, so full of love for this boy beside him.
 
After they kissed, Richie walked over to the Losers as they made their way out
of the truck and waved at them with his free hand. “Big Bill! Stan the Man!
Micycle! Haystack! What the fuck is up, dudes?”
 
Eddie was so pleased to see his friends smile at Richie, knowing that they were
happy to see him interact with them again, and in such a nostalgic manner too.
“R—ready to party, Tr—tr— Richie ,” said Bill, righting himself before he said
Trashmouth after receiving a pointed glare from Eddie.
 
“Alright, my dude!” exclaimed Richie, holding his hand out for a high five.
Bill accepted it happily. “LET’S GO FUCKING PARTY!” Richie screamed, howling at
the moon and his friends whooped and cheered as they made their way into the
house, the music thumping.
 
Eddie vaguely recognized the song from Fall Out Boy, but the way Richie cheered
made him think it was a favorite of his. Immediately upon entering, they were
accosted with a slightly drunk Michelle, and Eddie felt himself shrivel up with
jealousy. “Richie! Guys, you made it!” She screamed over the music, nursing
something  in her hand and Eddie thought he could see some remnants of
something white on her nose, but it may have been the light.
 
“I see you’ve been celebrating!” Laughed Richie, indicating to the drink in her
hand and touching the side of his nose conspiratorially.
 
“Well, of fucking course,” said Michelle. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d
like.”
 
“Uh, no thanks ‘Chelle,” said Richie, slinging his arm around Eddie again. “I’m
spending the night with my boyfriend.”
 
Michelle looked at Eddie for the first time since seeing them and her
expression softened. “Of course,” she said. She turned around and motioned in
the general direction of where Eddie assumed the kitchen was, “Drinks are in
there. The fun stuff is assorted around the house. I think Jimmy brought
Twister!”
 
“Twister?” Sammy busted in. “Fuck yeah!” He ran off, screaming, “JIMMY! WHERE
THE FUCK YOU AT WITH TWISTER! DON’T LET ME DOWN MAN!”
 
The mismatched group of Losers and junkies all exchanged a look of amusement
before bursting into laughter. Bev grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him towards
the kitchen. “Come on, Benny boy. Mama needs a drink!”
 
“Same!” said Richie, pulling Eddie behind them. They pushed their way through
the throngs of people talking and dancing, making their way towards the crowded
kitchen. There was a wide assortment of liquor on the counter and Richie
immediately went for the vodka, pouring it straight in a red solo cup. “Whatcha
want Eds?”
 
Eddie surveyed the liquor: the Maine specific beers, the vodka, the whiskey,
and all the things in between and said, “A shot of Fireball, and a vodka and
coke, please.”
 
“A shot of Fireball and a vodka and coke,” said Richie, pouring out a shot and
handing it to Eddie before making the vodka and coke. “Coming right up,” he
sounded impressed.
 
Eddie took the shot of Fireball and clinked his glass with Richie’s solo cup
before downing the hatch, letting the whiskey burn his throat. He then took the
vodka and coke and took a good swig from it before Richie put his hand over the
top and said, “Woah, woah, slow down there cowboy. I want you mildly coherent
for at least a dance or two.”
 
Eddie gently brought the cup away from Richie and took another, more milder
sip, before a familiar song came over the speakers and he grabbed Richie’s
hand. “Well, come on then,” he said. “Let’s dance.”
 
Richie grinned at him and downed the rest of his vodka, hissing loudly from the
burn before letting Eddie lead him out onto the dance floor, where ‘Africa’ was
playing. “This our fucking song, Eds,” he said, letting Eddie loop his arms
around his neck and pull him close. Eddie nuzzled his head against Richie’s
downturned face, delighting in the feel of skin on skin. Wherever Eddie’s skin
touched Richie’s, it felt like lighting followed in its path.
 
Richie placed his hands on Eddie’s hips and rocked them slowly against the
beat, both of them ignoring everybody around them. As far as Eddie was
concerned, in that moment, it was just him and Richie—and that’s all that
mattered.
 
“It’s gonna take me a lot to take me away from you,” Richie sang softly to
Eddie as he leaned down and crooned into his ear. Eddie had never heard Richie
sing seriously before and was pleasantly surprised at how  good  he sounded.
 
“You’re amazing,” said Eddie, his tongue already slightly loose from the
alcohol he’d consumed on an empty stomach.
 
Richie smirked, pulling him closer as the song changed. “You think so?” He
asked.
 
“I  know  so,” breathed Eddie, standing up on his tiptoes to kiss him, ignoring
the ‘oohs’ around them and just letting himself get lost in the moment. He was
in Richie’s arms, dancing, kissing him, and loving every second of it.
 
He loved  him.
 
He loved Richie.
 
“I love you,” said Eddie as they pulled apart and he felt as if the sun itself
had come out in the dark of the night at the way Richie just brightened up the
whole room with his smile.
 
“I love you too,” said Richie, clutching his hips tight. “So much so I feel as
if I’m about to burst just thinking about it.”
 
“How about you don’t do  that ,” teased Eddie. “And just kiss me again?”
 
Richie grinned, pulling Eddie’s hips flush against his. “I can do that,” he
leaned down to press his mouth against Eddie’s once more when someone knocked
into them, jangling them apart. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, man!”
 
The guy, obviously already very drunk, just shook his head and turned away from
them. “Whatever,” the guy muttered, barely being heard over the loud music.
“Couple of  fags …”
 
Eddie saw that Richie tense up and was about to do something, probably hit the
guy, so he grabbed his arm, tugging him away before he could do any damage and
said, “Just leave him, Richie. Let’s get more drinks, yeah?”
 
Richie ran a hand over his face, sighing. “Yeah, a drink does sound pretty good
right about now.”
 
“Exactly.”
 
——
 
Richie wanted to pound that douchebag’s skull in. He wanted him to pay for
calling him and Eddie  fags , but he was grateful to Eddie for pulling him away
and taking him back to the kitchen. He quickly poured himself a large cup of
straight vodka and made quick work of chugging it down, enjoying the burn it
gave his throat. He watched through buzzing eyes as Eddie surveyed the alcohol
once more before pulling out some Sugar Island Coconut Rum, pouring a good
amount into his cup. He smiled as Eddie took a tentative sip, before lighting
up and taking a much larger gulp.
 
“Good, baby?” Richie asked, already feeling light in the head from the vodka.
He hadn’t eaten anything today so he was a real lightweight at the moment.
 
“It’s delicious!” giggled Eddie, taking another large gulp. “I never realized
how much I love coconut!”
 
“Yeah? Well, then, take the bottle,” Richie picked it up and handed it to him
but Eddie balked.
 
“Oh, no,” said Eddie, but he didn’t put it down. “What if anyone else wants
some? I don’t want to hog the liquor.”
 
Richie laughed and gestured to the wide array of alcohol on the kitchen
counter. “You’re not hogging anything, my love. And besides—“ he reached behind
a particularly large bottle of whiskey and pulled out another Sugar Island
Coconut Rum. “—she bought more than one.”
 
Eddie twisted his mouth in thought. “Well, if you’re sure…”
 
“I’m sure, baby,” said Richie, resting his arm around his shoulder again.
“Drink up.”
 
Eddie looked up at him and smiled and Richie felt his heart skip a beat. He
didn’t know if he’d ever get used to that. Eddie finished off what was left in
his cup before taking the bottle and unscrewing the cap, taking a nice swig.
“Attaboy,” Richie praised and delighted at how Eddie’s face burned bright pink.
 
He was broken out of his reverie when Sammy came into the kitchen. “There you
are, you fucker!” Sammy said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
 
“Oh, yeah? What’s up, buttercup?”
 
“Jimmy brought this kickass bong and I wanna try it! You up for it?”
 
Richie gave a look to Eddie, who shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” He followed
Sammy with Eddie under his arm through the dancing people and out onto the back
patio where Jimmy and some other stoners sat in a circle, smoking a huge ass
bowl of green with some kief sprinkled on top. “Yo, Jim—may! Can I smoke some?”
 
“Course, Richie Rich,” said Jimmy, his eyes already bloodshot. He handed over
the bong once Richie sat down and pulled Eddie with him, watching amused as he
took another long pull off the coconut rum.
 
“You’ve ever smoked before, Eds?” asked Richie as he fished in his jean pocket
for a lighter.
 
“Huh? Oh, no…” said Eddie but he was watching Richie with mild interest as he
sparked up, allowing the weed smoke to go deep into his lungs before exhaling.
“How—how did you  do  that?” Eddie sounded amazed, swaying a bit in his seat.
 
“You wanna try?” Richie held out the bong to him but Eddie blushed.
 
He said, “I don’t know, Richie...I know I don’t have asthma, but…”
 
“How about this,” Richie said. “When I take a hit off the bong, you bring your
mouth close to mine and when I exhale, you inhale, okay?”
 
Eddie seemed to think about it for a moment. “Okay,” he finally said and Richie
grinned, setting up the next hit.
 
He sparked up the bowl and let the smoke fill up the bong before pulling it up
and letting the smoke filter into his lungs. Eddie brought himself close and
Richie grabbed his face with both hands before exhaling the smoke and watching
through lidded, aroused eyes as Eddie inhaled. Richie was so proud of him, he
didn’t even cough once.
 
Riche passed the bong to the next person, feeling buzzed in many different ways
and pulled Eddie close. “That good for ya, Eddie Spaghetti?” He asked,
chuckling at the dazed look on Eddie’s face.
 
“Yeah,” He said slowly, taking another swig off the coconut rum. “That was
good.”
 
Richie held out his hand for the coconut rum. “Can I?” He asked.
 
“Of course, ‘Chee,” Eddie practically purred and that made Richie raise his
eyebrows. He didn’t think Eddie had ever called him that, but he definitely
wasn’t complaining. Richie took the proffered coconut rum and took a swig,
allowing the sugary taste go down his throat. Eddie was right, it was good.
Richie took another long swig before Eddie was yanking it back, saying, “Don’t
get greedy, Richie.”
 
Richie laughed, feeling light and warm and fuzzy and all things that made the
world good and kind in his belly. He really was in love, damn him. If he had
told himself a month ago that  this , right now, with Eddie, dating him and
drinking with him, would happen, he would have laughed in their face before
going off to sulk because that was something that only happened in his deepest,
darkest dreams. But it was happening now, and it was real.
 
It was real.
 
He wanted to kiss him again, so he did, pulling him close and sealing their
mouths together, lips buzzing from the electricity they conducted being in each
other’s presence. When they pulled away, Richie noticed the pink blush on
Eddie’s cheeks and couldn’t resist pinching them, giggling, “ Cute, cute, cute
!”
 
“Ugh! Moment over, Tozier!” said Eddie, half heartedly pushing him away, but
Richie knew he was only joking.
 
The bong was passed around to them again, with a word from Jimmy saying, “You
guys, are like,  too cute .” The others stoners spoke up in agreement and
Richie felt his own self flush at the acceptance of him and Eddie. It was great
that their friends approved of them, but to have people outside of their social
circle? Meant the world to Richie, and one look to Eddie said that he thought
the same thing.
 
“You want to do it again, Eds?” Richie asked, taking the bong. Eddie nodded
enthusiastically and took another swig of the rum before sidling in close to
Richie and watching as he took a hit before leaning in close and breathing in
the smoke from Richie’s mouth, gasping a little when Richie filled the gap
completely and stuck his tongue in his mouth, kissing him deeper than they had
all night. He felt Eddie smile into the kiss and wrapped his arms around
Richie, the bottle of rum smacking Richie in the back, but he didn’t mind.
Their mouths melded together as one, Eddie tasting so sweet: mint mixed the
coconut rum with just a hint of weed.
 
“Uh, dudes? As much as this is the cutest/hottest thing I’ve ever seen, can we
have the bong back?” Sammy broke through their kiss and they reluctantly pulled
away after Richie gave Sammy the finger before handing him the bong.
 
The music changed from inside the house changed from Childish Gambino to
something by Paramore and Richie saw as Eddie’s face lit up with excitement. “I
love  this song!” He was slurring now, half the rum bottle empty and he grabbed
Richie’s hand, standing up on unsteady feet. “Come dance with me ‘Chee!”
 
Richie laughed, warm and bright, and allowed himself to be pulled up from the
ground and back into the house. He was mesmerized by Eddie’s swaying hips as
they got back onto the dance floor. They were met with Bev, twirling around
with Ben and Mike doing some killer moves with that girl Richie recognized from
the Halloween dance. “Richie, Eddie! Heeeyyy!” slurred Bev, a cup of peach
vodka in her hand.
 
“Heyyyyy, Bev! I love this song! Don’t you love this song?” Eddie slurred,
dancing around and laughing. Richie took his hand and started shaking with him,
just happy to see his boy so happy. Bev laughed and let go of Ben’s hand,
although he didn’t he seemed chuffed about it, and grabbed Richie’s hand,
shaking with the both of them.
 
In Richie’s high and bordering on very drunk mind, he felt like this was the
perfect time to say to Bev, “I’m sorry, for everything I said to you.” He
whispered this in her ear so Eddie wouldn’t hear but she did and she looked up
and smiled at him.
 
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, sounding serious. “I know you didn’t mean it.
You’re still my best friend, you got that?”
 
Richie almost felt like crying. Bev was always too good to him, even when he
didn’t deserve it— especially  when he didn’t deserve it. “Yeah,” He said
instead. “You’re my best friend too.”
 
“Heyyyy!” said Eddie, sounding affronted. “What about me?” He must have caught
the end of their conversation.
 
Richie and Bev looked at each other and laughed. “Don’t worry, babe,” said
Richie. “You’re my special kind of best friend: my boyfriend.”
 
Eddie smiled so bright that Richie thought that the sun had come out in this
darkened room. He couldn’t help but blurt out, “God, I love you.”
 
Eddie smiled even brighter and said, “I love you too.”
 
“Hey dude,” Richie felt a hand on his neck and whisper in his ear. It was Tom.
“Michelle got some good ole meth. She’s smoking it up in her room. Wanna come?”
 
Richie looked at Eddie, who hadn’t heard a thing Tom said and was busy dancing
to the music. “Nah, man. Not tonight. I got my boy to look after,” whispered
Richie. “Tell her to save some for me tomorrow, okay?”
 
“Will do, Richie Rich,” said Tom and he watched as Richie watched Eddie. “Wow,
you really love him, don’t you?”
 
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
 
——
 
Eddie was feeling drunk.
 
Very, very drunk.
 
And a little bit stoned, but that was a new sensation.
He was having the time of his life dancing and laughing with Richie and Bev,
feeling so free as he took more and more swigs from the bottle of coconut rum
until he felt himself get a bit weird, definitely looser.
 
He latched onto Richie as another song began to play, something he didn’t
recognize but that got everyone on the dance floor going crazy. Richie took the
bottle from him and took a long swig, closing his eyes. God, he was so hot.
 
“You think so?” Richie laughed and Eddie belatedly realized that he had said
that out loud, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about it.
 
“Yeah,” he heard himself slur. “So hot.”
 
“You’re pretty hot too, Eds,” said Richie, running a gentle hand through
Eddie’s gentle curls.
 
“No, I’m not,” said Eddie.
 
“What makes you say that?” Richie frowned.
 
“I’m just not hot,” Eddie couldn’t stop the word vomit. “Not in the way you
are: all consuming and lighting a fire in me I didn’t even know I had.”
 
Richie wound a hand around Eddie’s shoulders and swayed him close, taking
another swig of the rum. “What if I told you I think the same about you?”
 
“I’d say that you’re a liar,” slurred Eddie. “Or crazy, I can’t decide.”
 
“Oh, I’m definitely crazy,” Richie waggled his eyebrows. “But that doesn’t
change the fact that you absolutely drive me wild, Eds. Every waking moment I
think about you and how much I love you and how beautiful you are, inside and
out.”
 
Eddie cursed himself for feeling tears well in his eyes. He really was drunk,
crying so easily and freely in front of all these people. “Shut up,” He choked
out.
 
“No way,” said Richie. “I want everybody to know: I LOVE EDDIE KASPBRAK! HE’S
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GUY ON THE PLANET!” He screamed his head off into the party
and all the heads turned to them and Eddie felt himself go bright red, the
tears threatening to spill over.
 
It was silent for a moment, before everyone erupted into cheers and whistles,
headed by Bev and the Losers and Richie’s friends. Richie pulled Eddie close
and tilted his chin up to look at him. “No backing out now, Eds. Now everybody
knows: I love you.”
 
Eddie smiled through his tears. “I love you too, you idiot.” He threw his arms
around Richie and pulled him into a deep kiss, tongues tangling as they battled
for dominance. When they pulled away, Eddie whispered into his ear, “Now give
me back the rum.”
 
Richie laughed a nice belly laugh and handed it back to him. Eddie took a nice
long swig, feeling it ignite his throat and belly. He felt really drunk now;
drunk on love and on rum. And he never wanted the night to end.
 
Never.
 
He watched through hazy eyes as Richie fished out a cigarette and lit up right
inside the house. Somehow, despite Eddie’s pure hatred of cigarettes, Richie
still managed to make it look sexy, effortlessly breathing in the black tar of
smoke into his lungs, like breathing in the cleanest air, except cigarette
smoke was the farthest thing from that. He found an ashtray near where they
stood still swaying to the music and flicked his cigarette off in there.
 
Eddie snuck his free hand around Richie’s middle, swaying gently with him in
the dark of the room, just enjoying their closeness and the feel of Richie’s
lips against his hair. He leaned up and pressed sneaky kisses to his jawline
and neck, loving the way Richie shivered with what Eddie hoped was lust. Their
happiness was broken, however, when they heard that asshole from earlier speak
up again.
 
“Look at those fucking fags! Can’t they take that shit somewhere else?”
 
“Yeah!” said Richie loudly. “Maybe we’ll take it back to your Mom’s house, I
know she likes a little guy on guy action.”
 
The guy whipped his head around and glared at Richie. He wasn’t an attractive
guy by conventional means, with a shaved head and a huge ass nose ring and
gaping gauges in his ears. Not that Eddie had anything against those things,
but on this guy, with his ugly attitude, it just made him all the more
disgusting. “What the hell did you just say, man?” The guy spat, clenching his
fists.
 
“He said,” Eddie spoke up, feeling emboldened by the alcohol in his system.
“That maybe we’ll bring our faggy selves to your Mom’s house. We know how much
she loves to watch.”
 
“You tell your  bottom  to watch his mouth,” the guy shoved Eddie hard, causing
him to fall back into Richie.
 
Bev seemed to have noticed what was going on and stepped in, Ben hovering
behind her. “I think  you  need to back off,  Frank . No one needs your
homophobic comments, asshole!”
 
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”
 
“What’d you just say?” Ben stepped in now, crossing his impressive arms in
front of  Frank  and they saw him gulp audibly but didn’t stand down, the
idiot.
 
“I told her to shut the fuck up. Keep your bitch in line.”
 
Ben was about to say something, when Richie tapped on Frank’s shoulder and when
he turned with a “ What ?!” Richie socked him in the face, knocking him down to
the floor. Blood began pouring profusely from his nose and he cursed, trying to
stagger up but Richie placed his foot down on his chest and pressed down hard.
 
“Get out of here, man,” he spat to Frank. “Or I’ll do more than break your
nose.”
 
He glared hard into Frank’s eyes and he must have gotten the picture for when
Richie eased up, he stumbled away and out of the door. A moment of silence
followed before the room erupted into cheers once more, applauding Richie and
his bravery. “Wow,” said Bev, wrapping an arm around Richie. “My hero.”
 
“And mine,” said Eddie, slinging his arm around Richie and pulling him for a
kiss on his cheek.
 
“Let’s show our appreciation,” said Bev, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him
towards the coffee table in the middle of the room. “Let’s dance, Eddie!”
 
With the amount of alcohol in Eddie’s stomach at the moment, combined with weed
and energy buzzing off of him from seeing Richie punch that asshole, it seemed
like a great idea. He handed off the almost empty bottle of rum off to Richie
who cheered as Bev pulled Eddie on top of the coffee table. The music changed
to something that sounded vaguely foreign and very sexy and Eddie got into that
headspace. He locked eyes with Richie and felt more bold than he’d ever felt in
his whole life, dancing as if it was only the two of them and not a whole room
of people. The people around them cheered as he and Bev grinded on each other,
laughing their asses off as Bev ground her pelvis into his. Bev even gave him a
little kiss on the lips, making Eddie blush and the people cheer harder. Eddie
rocked his hips and sunk down sexily with a flexibility he didn’t know he
possessed. Richie was smoking another cigarette, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s
as he twirled his hips around and danced against Bev.
 
Richie didn’t keep his eyes off of Eddie the entire time he danced and Eddie
felt himself himself tighten with lust. Finally, once the song ended, he jumped
down off the coffee table and ran into Richie’s arms, who grabbed him happily
and kissed him fully on the mouth.
 
“Let’s go fuck,” whispered Eddie against Richie’s mouth.
 
“You want to? Right now?” Richie asked, curling his fingers against Eddie’s
hips excitedly.
 
“Yeah,” whispered Eddie. “Fuck me, now.”
 
Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him away, towards the first bedroom on
the floor. It looked like Michelle’s parent’s bedroom, for it was more cleanly
than what Eddie assumed Michelle’s room looked like. Richie attached his mouth
to Eddie’s and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut and leaving them to
their pleasure.
 
In Eddie’s opinion, it was the best thing in the world to be in love.
Chapter End Notes
     yay! another chapter! i'm really trying to get these out in a timely
     fashion tbh i've been having some incredible depression issues and
     it's been hard to write a lot lately but i'm here, better late than
     never and with Starbucks:)
     song - heavy metal heart by sky ferriera
      
     playlist for the party to listen to:
     hum hallelujah by fall out boy
     africa by toto
     iv.sweatpants by childish gambino
     rose colored boy paramore
     heavy metal heart by sky ferriera
     are u gonna dance by junesex
End Notes
     Have any of you guys ever seen the 2003 movie 'thirteen'? It's
     amazing and I definitely got inspiration to write this story from
     that, as well as some of my own personal experiences...
     Please leave your thoughts and feelings on this story, I'd really
     love the feedback
     And I promise, all will be explained as to why Richie is the way that
     he is, just not right away
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!