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ONE: Germs.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Richie?”
Richie looks up, mouth full of ice cream. He looks panicked for a second before he throws the spoon back into the bowl and sits back, feigning a casual indifference.
“Eds! ‘elcome back! ‘Ow was the baf’oom?”, Richie mumbles around his mouthful.
Eddie, standing in the doorway, looks unimpressed.
“Seriously, you can’t control yourself for five minutes while I take a piss?”
Richie feigns a repentant expression; it’s ruined by the smear of chocolate sauce on his bottom lip. He holds the bowl up as an offering to Eddie. Eddie just rolls his eyes and crosses the room to sit down, pushing the bowl back towards the other boy.
“Well, I don’t want it now It’s contaminated with your spit do I, Asshole?”, he scoffs.
Richie actually looks quite guilty at this, “Well, I could dig out the parts I was eating?”
“You want to dig out the contaminated ice cream… with your contaminated spoon?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow
“…I could get you a new spoon?”, Richie offers
“There’s no point now, your mouth germs have crawled all over it all”, Eddie laments.
Richie lets out an offended little huff and brandishes his spoon in Eddie’s face.
“I’ll have you know that my mouth is perfectly clean, Edward! I am offended that you’d claim otherwise”
“Richie, the human mouth is dirtier than most toilets. If I eat that ice cream, I may as well let you spit in my mouth”, Eddie snarks.
Richie nods thoughtfully for a moment, then launches himself at the smaller boy, making over exaggerated kissing noises at him. Eddie shrieks and flails, pressing his hands against Richie’s jaw, forcing his head to the side. They overbalance and tip onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table. The fall jolts Eddie hard enough that his elbows fold and Richie almost succeeds in his mission of planting on him. Sensing defeat and unwilling to go down without a fight, Eddie throws his hand up onto the coffee table, drags a handful of contaminated ice cream out of the bowl, and smears it all over Richie’s face. Richie freezes, mouth agape, face suddenly sticky and cold. Eddie takes full advantage of his shock, lurching up and tossing Richie onto his back. Just to add insult to injury, he wipes the leftover ice cream off on Richie’s hideous Hawaiian shirt.
Eddie flops back onto the couch, fishing a wet wipe out of his fanny pack to clean his hands off. Once he’s finished, he leans down and cleans Richie’s face for him. Richie just lays where he is for another second before jumping to his feet and leaving the room.
He returns a few minutes later with a fresh bowl of ice cream for Eddie, earning himself a bright smile. Richie returns the smile with his own slightly dazed one and sits down beside Eddie again.
Across the room, Bev turns to the rest of the Losers Club.
“Do you ever feel like they forget we’re here sometimes?”, she asks.
Stan hums in agreement, “All I know is that if any of you get ice cream on my face I’m fucking leaving”.
TWO: Don't Look.
Eddie’s screaming. He’s screaming and his arm is hanging at a fucked up angle. He’s screaming, his arm is hanging at a fucked up angle and there’s a murderous clown stalking towards him. Richie should turn tail and run as soon as he sees Pennywise’s razor sharp teeth, dripping with thick, viscous saliva at the thought of a struggling meal.
But Eddie is screaming.
Richie sprints across the room, right in the path of the clown, and drops to his knees between It and Eddie, shielding the smaller boy from view. With all his instincts screaming at him, he puts his back to the danger to focus on Eddie.
“Eddie! Eddie, I’m here, look at me!” he pleads
Eddie just keeps screaming.
Richie can tell that his eyes are locked on It over Richie’s shoulder. He places his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, ignoring the flinch and guiding his face towards his own.
“Eds!”, he calls.
Eddie’s eyes finally snap to Richie’s face. Richie can’t tell if the tears streaming down his cheeks are from fear or pain, but he swipes them away with his thumbs just the same.
“Ooh, careful Richie! Getting too close for comfort there,” The clown’s voice is grating, high-pitched and much closer now.
Eddie whimpers and Richie shushes him. He presses their foreheads together, ready for Eddie to be the last thing he sees. His eyes flicker to Eddie’s lips without his permission. He thinks about closing the distance, but it wouldn’t be fair to Eddie. He wants his final act to be comforting Eddie, not a breach of his trust, his friendship.
“It’s okay, Eds. Don’t look at it. Just look at me, keep your eyes one me,” He murmurs softly, as comfortingly as he can, pretending his hands aren’t shaking where they rest of Eddie’s cheeks.
He feels the clown breathing on the back of his neck and braces himself for the pain of teeth clamping down, tearing through muscle and breaking bone.
He jumps when he feels something splatter on his skin. He finds himself wondering if it’s his own blood or Pennywise’s spit, but he feels no pain. A hand grips his shoulder and he tenses again, but Bev’s voice rings out from behind him.
“Richie! C’mon, we need to move while It’s hurt!”
Richie’s head whips around. He’s shocked to see the clown impaled on an iron fence post, mouth gaping and eyes swivelling around the room.
He pops Eddie’s arm back into place, grateful for the first time that he’s had practice on himself, and hauls the other boy out of the dilapidated house.
Later, when he’s laying in bed, long after Eddie’s mother had pulled him out of Richie’s arms and away from him (forever, if she got her way) he’s glad he didn’t kiss him. It would have been awkward now that he’d survived.
THREE: Safe Haven.
Eddie shoots awake, lurching upright.
He looks around his bedroom, it’s still pitch black, the middle of the night. He can’t remember having a nightmare. They’d tapered off slightly since they’d forced the clown back into hibernation. So why was he awake?
He sits in silence for a moment, listening for anything that might have roused him from his sleep.
CLINK.
Eddie jumps, turning to look at the window. After a second another pebble collides with the glass.
CLINK.
Eddie gets out of bed, quietly padding across the room on bare feet. He throws the window open and leans out, only for another pebble to bounce off his chest.
“Ouch!”
“Oh shit! Sorry Eds”, Richie’s voice drifts up from the front yard.
Eddie looks down and sees him. Well, he sees a darkened silhouette against the orange glow of the streetlights, but the lankly frame is unmistakable.
“Richie? What the fuck are you doing here? What time is it?”, he hisses down at him.
Richie seems to sway for a moment before answering.
“Um, sometime after three I think… Can I come in?”, he asks.
“Can you… no! Richie it’s the middle of the night. Go home, I’ll see you in the morning”, Eddie replies incredulously. He moves to close the window.
“Wait! Eds- Eddie please”, the desperation in Richie’s voice gives Eddie pause. He opens the window fully again and looks down at Richie again, closer this time. It looks like his shoulders are hunched, he’s slumped over, leaning his weight against the tree by Eddie’s window. He looks exhausted even though Eddie can barely see him.
“Okay. Okay, climb on up”, he concedes.
Richie sighs so heavily that Eddie can hear it from fifteen feet above him.
“I can’t”, Richie monotones.
“What do you mean you can’t? You climb that tree at least once a week, you could do it in your sleep!”, Eddie protested.
“I just… It’s my arm. I can’t… I don’t. Can you just come unlock the door? Please?”, Richie’s voice breaks so pitifully that Eddie can’t even argue with him.
“Okay, just wait there.”
He turns on his heel and heads for his bedroom door, sneaking downstairs. He expertly avoids the creaky stair and successfully opens the front door, flipping the porch light on.
“This better be good Ric- Oh my god! Richie, what happened to you?!”, Eddie hisses, horrified.
In the brightness of the porch lights, Eddie can see just how rough Richie looks. His nose is bleeding, one eye swollen shut and his bottom lip is split open. His whole chin of coated is blood, dripping down his neck and seeping into the collar of his t-shirt. His neck was ringed with bruises, but what worried Eddie the most was the way he cradled his left arm to his chest and the pale, pain-filled expression on his face.
He doesn’t give Richie time to respond before he gently grabs the hem of his t-shirt, too afraid to grab him by a possibly injured body part, and hauls him into the house. Soon enough they’re safely in Eddie’s room (Richie is accustomed enough to the house that he avoids the creaky stair on instinct). Eddie guides Richie down onto his bed and sneaks back out to the bathroom to retrieve a first aid kit and a damp flannel. He’s closing the bathroom door when his mother’s voice calls down the hallway.
“Eddie-bear? Why are you up?”
Eddie freezes, heart racing.
“Uh… Just needed to use the bathroom, mommy!”
He closes his eyes tightly, hoping she’ll let it go and not come out to check on him. If she sees him with the first aid kit, she’ll bundle him up in the car and chauffer him to the hospital before he even has time to argue.
“Alright Eddie-bear. Get back to sleep, you’re a growing boy and you need your rest”, she replies, thankfully from behind her bedroom door.
“Okay mommy, goodnight”.
He sneaks back into his room and hold a finger to his lips when Richie goes to speak. They wait with bated breath until they can hear Sonia snoring again. Eddie makes his way to the bed and drops down beside Richie.
“Richie, what the hell happened to you? Did you run into Bowers or something?”, Eddie whispers.
Richie looks thoughtful for a second before nodding.
“Yeah… Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk and he cornered me. Your house was close-by and I felt like some care from Doctor K”, he replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows. It seems hollow to Eddie.
Eddie looks at Richie, taking in his pyjama pants and thin t-shirt, then noticed for the first time that he’s barefoot. He just nods, pretending to believe him. He raises the flannel to Richie’s face and starts gently dabbing at the blood. By the time Richie’s face and neck are clean, the flannel has been dyed completely red. He rinses it out the window with a bottle of water. He starts prodding at Richie’s various injuries. He gently wiggles his nose, then assures Richie that it isn’t broken. He checks over his teeth to make sure none of them are loose or broken. He’s surprised when Richie doesn’t comment on his willingness to put his fingers in the other boy’s mouth, but he takes it as a blessing. Once he’s happy with the state of Richie’s teeth, he moves in to the bruises around his neck. He’s horrified to see that the bruises are very obviously shaped like fingers. His eyes flickered up to Richie’s face, but the other boy’s eyes are shut, his teeth clenched tightly, pain written in every line of his face. Eddie panics.
“Richie?! Richie where does it hurt?”, he asks frantically, hands fluttering uselessly over him.
“Shoulder”, Richie grunts.
Eddie reaches out and pries Richie’s fingers away from where they’re gripping his injured shoulder. The affected arm dangles uselessly. It’s severely dislocated.
“Shit! Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, Eddie is surprised he manages to keep his voice down.
Richie’s agonised whimper snaps him out of his panic. Eddie balls up the damp flannel and shoves it between Richie’s teeth.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Richie, but I need you to keep quiet. Bite down on that, okay? I’m going to pop your shoulder back in on three okay?” Eddie waits for Richie’s consent by way of a nod, before bracing one hand on his shoulder and another under his elbow.
“Okay, ready? One, two!”, Eddie shoved the arm upwards with all his strength until he hears a sickening, wet pop. Richie screams through the makeshift gag and lets out a wet sob. As soon as Eddie releases the arm, Richie curls around it, still sobbing. The sight of him so vulnerable freaks Eddie out so much that he doesn’t know what to do. He reaches out and plucks the flannel from his mouth and starts running his fingers through Richie’s hair. He eventually lays down with him, on his side so that they’re facing each other. Richie’s sobs slow down as he calms, leaning into Eddie’s gentle touch. Eddie guides him closer, pressing Richie’s face to his collarbone.
“…Richie? You know you can tell me anything, right?”, When Richie doesn’t reply Eddie continues, “Richie, you weren’t on a walk in bare feet with no jacket, were you?”
He feels Richie shake his head.
“What happened, Richie?”, he asks.
Richie stays silent for a moment before responding in a whisper.
“My dad lost his job”
Eddie feels his world come crashing down around his ears. He had met Wentworth Tozier multiple times. The man had always seemed so kind, offering to order them pizzas or drive them to the movie theatre. He couldn’t reconcile the man he knew with the bloodied, bruised form of Richie. He realises that his hand has stopped petting Richie’s hair so he immediately starts again.
“He did this?”
Richie nods against him.
“Has he done it before?”, he asks.
Richie nods again after a moment of hesitation, “never this bad though”.
Eddie, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembers the scrapes and bruises often scattered over Richie’s skin. He had always blamed them on Bowers, or tripping and bumping into things when he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Knowing the useless adults of Derry wont do anything to help, Eddie makes an offer.
“Come here. When it gets bad, you come here. If it seems like he’s going to raise a hand to you, you come here. No matter what time of night it is. I’ll leave my window unlocked and hide a key to the front door in case I’m out, okay?”
Richie freezes and draws his head back, tears dripping down his face. Eddie suddenly realises the collar of his own shirt is now soaked with tears in the same was Richie’s in with blood. Richie looks awestruck, searching Eddie’s face for any sign that his offer isn’t serious. When he doesn’t find it, he leans in closer to Eddie again. Their noses bump together, then Richie veers his head to the side and tucks himself under Eddie’s chin again.
Eddie doesn’t hear the thank you whispered against his skin, but he feels Richie’s lips brush his skin as it’s uttered.
FOUR: Forget Me Not.
They’re sixteen.
They’re sixteen and dropping the last of Eddie’s boxes onto the floor of a moving truck.
They’re sixteen and Eddie’s leaving.
Richie tries not to think about the fact that Bev hasn’t replied to a single letter since she moved in with her aunt. He tries to ignore the memory niggling at the back of his head. The memory of the phone call he’d made to Bill a few months ago where the boy hadn’t remembered his name.
“I’m s-sorry, I t-t-think you have the wrong n-number”, would haunt Richie for the rest of his days.
He tried to convince himself that Eddie won’t forget him. They’d been best friends since they were four years old and Richie had pushed a kid over for kicking sand in Eddie’s face. But they had met Bill less than a month later, and he’d forgotten them. Bev had forgotten Bill and Ben.
“Is this the last of it?”, Stan’s voice shocks Richie out of his depressing train of thought.
Eddie hauls himself into the back of the truck, dropping a trash bag full of bedding. Mike and Ben follow him in.
“Yeah. I think so. Is it sad that my whole life fits in a single truck?”, Eddie asks with a fake laugh.
They all turn to look at Richie when he doesn’t take the opening for a joke. He’s too busy trying not to cry.
“Eddie-bear, are you done? We need to get on the road if we want to get to the new house by sundown”, Sonia’s voice sounds like a funeral march to Richie.
The mood in the truck plummets even lower. Eddie looks around his friends, searching for the right words to say. He doesn’t find them. Ben is the first to move, tugging Eddie into a tight hug, when he pulls back, he passes a mixtape to Eddie. They had some to an agreement after Bev and Bill forgot them. From now on, when one of them had to leave, the rest would provide reminders for them to take with them.
“For the drive”, Ben explains.
Eddie nods, clearing his tear-logged throat to thank him. Ben just nods and jumps out of the truck. Stan steps forward next, pulling Eddie in for a slightly briefer hug. He hands him a book on the birds of New York before he leaves too. Mike steps up and claps Eddie on the shoulder. He hands him the bolt gun they had used on the clown. Eddie lets out a watery laugh.
“How the fuck am I supposed to hide this from my mom?”, he asks.
“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out”, Mike replied with a grin and a shrug on his way out.
It’s just Richie and Eddie left.
They’re silent, just staring at each other. The tears fall now that they’re alone. Eddie sniffs and rubs at his eyes. Richie still thinks he’s beautiful, even with red, puffy eyes. He’s so beautiful that Richie can’t look at him any longer. He pulls his backpack off and opens it. He pulls out a thick swathe of familiar fabric. Eddie sobs, but when Richie looks up, he’s smiling.
“The hammock? Won’t you miss it?”, he asks.
“It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Richie holds the hammock out.
Eddie takes it and hugs it to his chest. They stare at each other again. Realisation flashes over Eddie’s face. He gently places the folded hammock into an open box.
“I have something for you”, he starts rummaging through the pockets of his jacket.
“That wasn’t the deal, Spaghetti! I’m not going to forget you”, Richie argues
Eddie doesn’t respond, but pulls whatever he was looking for out of his pocket. He holds a closed fist out to Richie, who hesitantly offers his own. Eddie drops a key into it. It’s a familiar key, usually hidden under a false rock, waiting for a beaten and bruised Richie to find it and seek solace in Eddie’s bed. He looks up at Eddie in confusion. Eddie bashfully rubs at the back of his head.
“I just… I didn’t want you to think that I was abandoning you. You’ll always have a safe place with me, even if it means you hitchhiking to New York, which you shouldn’t do by the way because serial killers are a thing. Plus, the house hasn’t been bought yet, so it’s also just a practical thing too, you know? Like you can still let yourself in, even when I’m not there anymo- Oof!”
Richie cuts him off by throwing himself at Eddie’s chest, arms circled around his back like a vice and head buried in the smaller teen’s hair. Eddie’s arms grab him back instantly, hands grasping the back of Richie’s shirt.
“I’m going to miss you so fucking much”, Richie mumbles into his hair.
“Me too,” Eddie replies, voice muffled by Richie’s shirt.
“Please don’t forget me”, Richie out sobs harshly.
Eddie braces his hands on Richie’s chest and pushes himself back just far enough to look him in the eyes.
“Never. Richie, I promise you, I could never forget you”
Richie searches Eddie’s face for the answer to a question he’s too afraid to ask. When he thinks he’s found it, he leans in. Their foreheads brush, then their noses slide past each other. Their lips are a hairs breadth apart.
Eddie doesn’t object.
Richie pushes forward.
“EDDIE-BEAR?! NOW PLEASE?”, Sonia’s dulcet tones force them to jump apart. Their backs are suddenly pressed against opposite sides of the truck. They’re breathing heavily and staring at each other with wide eyes.
“…Richie”, Eddie whispers
Richie bolts.
Eddie forgets him.
FIVE: Brave.
“I can’t. Guys, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this!”, Eddie babbles, backing away from the manhole in the stone floor.
The rest of the newly reunited Losers Club turns to look at him. Their faces are all understanding, but he can’t help but feel like they’re judging him. They think he’s a coward.
“Eddie, please. We need to do this. It has to be all of us”, Mike reasons with him gently.
Eddie shakes his head violently, “No, no, no. It isn’t all of us. Stan is dead. So if it has to be all of us then we’re already dead!”, Eddie shrieks.
Bev steps towards him, but Richie intercepts her. He shakes his head at them all, eyes pleading.
“Guys, you go ahead. Eds and I will catch up”, he urges.
The others look unsure for a second, but when Bill drops down deeper underground they have no choice but to follow, leaving Eddie and Richie alone. Richie waits until he can’t hear their footsteps anymore, then turns to face Eddie. The other man isn’t looking at him, instead staring at the ground with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. When Richie doesn’t speak, Eddie looks up, then immediately flicks his gaze away when he catches his eye.
“Eds?”, Richie prompts.
Eddie shakes his head, “I can’t, Richie. Look at what just happened in the kitchen. I fucking froze while that thing attacked you. You could have died!”
“Eds, it was a huge spider-crab thing with the face of your childhood friend. I’d be more worried if you hadn’t freaked out!”, Richie objects.
“Ben didn’t freak out”, Eddie argues.
“Yeah, well I’m not entirely convinced Ben is human. He’s at least forty percent Greek God now”, Richie grumbles, startling a laugh out of Eddie.
“…Eddie. You are so much braver than you know”, Richie breathes.
Eddie just scoffs.
“I’m serious Eddie! Who helped beat the shit out of a fucking demon clown before he’d even grown pubes?” Eddie looks unamused, but replies when Richie raises a questioning eyebrow.
“…me”
“Yes, you! And who snuck a whole idiot into his bedroom for three years despite his terrifying mother sleeping in the room next door?”, Richie asked again.
“…me”, Eddie mumbles.
“YES! And who got stabbed in the face like three hours ago and barely fucking flinched?”
“Well, I definitely did more than flinch”, Eddie replied.
“YOU SASSED THE KNIFE WIELDING MANIAC, EDDIE! SASSED HIM”, Richie placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and shook him, trying to pump him up.
“I did!”, Eddie crowed, wrapping his hands around Richie’s elbows.
“Fuck yeah you did! You’re a badass, Eds!”, Eddie nodded, convincing himself.
“I’m a fucking badass!”
“YES!”
“LET’S GO KILL THIS FUCKING CLOWN!”, Eddie yells.
“WOO!”, Richie screams.
They both realise at the same second that their faces are much closer than they were a few minutes ago. Richie’s eyes are drawn to Eddie’s lips. He starts to lean forward, but then he hears Pennywise’s taunts in the back of his head.
“I know your secret, your dirty little secret”
Richie drops his hands from Eddie as if he had been burned. He turns away from Eddie’s questioning face and drops down through the manhole without another word.
PLUS ONE: Too Late.
The clown was dead.
It was actually fucking dead this time. Its tiny body was crumpled on the rocky floor. Their hands were coated in the ashes of Its heart. Richie felt nothing but relief, He turns to celebrate with Eddie, then remembers.
“EDDIE!”, he screams, sprinting back to where he had left his injured friend.
Eddie was still slumped against the boulder. Richie drops to his knees in front of him, framing his face with his hands.
“Eddie? Eds? We did it! The clown’s dead… Eddie?”, Richie gently taps his palm against Eddie’s cheek.
He hears Beverly gasp behind him, but he ignores it. He knows Eddie’s injury isn’t pretty, she was probably shocked. Richie drops his hands to Eddie’s shoulders and shakes him. Eddie’s head flops forward limply. A rumble rocks the cavern. About ten feel away, a large chunk of rock drops from the ceiling. Richie disregards it, but one of the other Losers screams. He isn’t sure which one.
“Eddie?”, when he still doesn’t respond, Richie turns around to face their friends, “Shit, guys he passed out. We need to get him out of here!”
None of them moves to help. Beverly and Bill are crying, Ben looks like he’s in agony and Mike is shaking.
“Guys? For fucks sake, we don’t have time for this. Ben, grab his fucking legs, we need to get him to the hospital!”, he yells, trying to snap them out of it. More chunks of the ceiling start to fall around them.
Beverly steps forward and places a hand on Richie’s shoulder.
“Richie, sweetie. We need to go”, she says gently but firmly.
Richie looks at her like she’s crazy, “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, Bev! Someone grab his fucking legs and let’s go!”
Bev sobs harshly, “Richie, sweetie. He’s gone. He’s dead”
Richie stares at her, then looks back to Eddie. His skin is pale and sallow. His chest isn’t moving.
“No. No, he’s just unconscious. He’s lost a lot of blood, Bev! We need to get him help!”, Richie denies.
Bev just shakes her head. Richie looks back at Eddie again, unable to tear his eyes away, searching for some sign of life.
There isn’t one.
Richie’s face crumbles into tears, a sob rips from his throat.
“No, no, no. He can’t be dead. He can’t… It’s my fault, I convinced him to come. I told him… I told him we’d kill it”, his words are barely comprehensible around his heart-wrenching sobs.
He feels someone’s arms tuck under his armpits and start pulling him to his feet. He screams and lurches out of their grasp. He throws himself at Eddie’s chest, flinging his arms around him. He buries his face in Eddie’s hair, the only place he’d ever felt safe. Hand grasp the back of his shirt and for one blissful moment he thinks its Eddie returning his embrace, but then the hands start pulling him away from Eddie.
Richie tried to fight them off, but he isn’t string enough. They manage to get him to his feet and away from Eddie.
When they start dragging him across the cavern, he breaks and begs, “Wait, wait, wait. I need to say goodbye. LET ME SAY GOODBYE, PLEASE!”
Their progress falters and the hands loosen for a second, but it’s enough for Richie.
He scrambles back to Eddie and lays him down on his left side, one hand tucked under his head, one leg bent. It was the way he slept. Richie wanted to make sure he was comfortable. He pulls away and takes one last look at the only person he’d ever loved.
Finally, over three decades after he first wanted to, Richie presses his lips against Eddie’s.
They were already cold.
Richie whispers an apology against his lips.
As he stands up, Richie reaches into his pocket and withdraws a tarnished silver key he’s carried around for over half his life, never remembering why.
He tucks the key into Eddie’s hand, then turns and walks out of the cavern.