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Eddie's dead.
They wouldn't even pull him out. God, he would've hated it down there-
He'd barely slunk through the Townhouse doors, every limb felt like a weight. The blistering wood still radiated under his fingertips; it alleviated a little, carving it, and at the same time crushed his fucking soul. Ignoring every other single person, he pulled himself to the bar and drank way too much (and Richie had a high fucking tolerance so that's saying something). He blearily remembers Bev in his vision, big frown (that almost felt familiar), and blue eyes full of fucking pity. Pity.
Eddie's dead.
Eventually, way too late, he slunk off to his room. Still in his sewer fucking clothes, he smelt fucking disgusting. Sewer and fucking stagnant Quarry water. He had the spare thought that Eddie would yell at him because of the fucking health risks or some shit, "That's fucking disgusting. Do you know how much bacteria is on your fucking skin right now?"
Eddie's dead.
Richie laid on the bed anyway, hair still matted with sweat and shirt still stained. He thought for a second that he'd like to rot away here with Eddie. Die in Derry with him. He'd wanted to, down in the sewers, he wanted them to either take Eddie or leave him. Fuck, take Eddie or leave him-
Eddie's dead.
Let me die here. Just let me die here. I don't want to live in a world without him. I just got him back, fuck, I just got him back-
Eddie's dead.
The thought thrummed through his head, as he felt molded to the bed. Scratchy ass blankets rough on his skin, it was all he could fucking feel. Everything else felt stuffy like he had a clogged brain, like the whole world had faded from color. Because it had, god. Eddie-
Eddie's dead.
Richie's eyes eventually closed. Darkness taking over his vision, as he laid his head against the stiff pillow. He knew it'd hurt in the morning, or it should. Richie didn't feel shit anymore. He didn’t think he ever would again.
Even still, they shut.
And he dreamt of a turtle, something about him recognized it. Even though he'd never seen it before.
When he started coming to, his head did really fucking hurt, like a sharp pain. Not the dull ache it should have been. What the fuck was in these pillows?
"Richie-"
Richie's eyes snapped open, and he wasn't in the Townhouse anymore, not on the shitty bed, not fucking hungover like he should be. And he... And he-
"Eddie?"
And it sure as fuck was him, smiling big and wide just like he had before. Richie felt a little like throwing up. Was this some kinda eternal fucking torture? Was the clown not dead?
"I think I-"
Richie blinked, fuck. Not this again. Anything but fucking this.
He didn't know if this was some fucked up dream, or nightmare, or if this was that fucking clown, but he wasn't doing that shit again. He couldn't survive it again-
Richie shot his arms up and pulled Eddie to his chest.
"What the fuck are you-"
And with all of his strength, he rolled them over. He didn't know for how long, he just needed to get the fuck away from that thing, as much as he could. Far, far away-
Richie couldn't breathe not until-
Crack.
His eyes shot over to their left, where the spider leg stabbed the ground. The rocks. Not Eddie. Fuck, not Eddie.
"Shit," Eddie swallowed, and Richie's eyes snapped to him so fast that his glasses almost flew off of his face.
Richie pulled himself up, a little in the same position Eddie was in before. He skimmed over Eddie for a second, no wounds, no blood. This felt so real. So real. He could feel his body heat and his jacket's zipper poking into him. And then, Eddie was fucking looking at him, big ass brown eyes. And that was... Shit, that was Eddie-
"Richie?" His eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
He blinked once, swallowing. Pushing himself up with his hands, he rolled off of Eddie. This couldn't be fucking real, how was this-
"Rich," Eddie echoed out, "-You're really fucking freaking me out, man."
Richie let out a long big breath, head against the rocks and dirt. His heart was pounding in his chest. Was this... How was this happening-
And then, a roar shook through the whole cave that Richie felt in his bones. Right, they were still in this fucking hellscape.
He shot to his feet, extending a hand to Eddie, "We gotta fucking go, Eds."
Eddie didn't hesitate, grabbing his hand and pulling himself up. Richie felt a tingle like he used to when they were kids, it had to be real. This had to be real.
"What the fuck was that about?" Eddie questioned, maybe a little concerned, "-You looked at me like I was a fucking ghost-"
You are, Eddie, his mind echoed.
"Let's talk about this later, Eds," Richie chimed back, dropping his hand, "-Maybe not when there's a fucking giant spider clown hybrid trying to kill us."
Eddie's lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting around Richie's face (looking for something), but Richie knew he was going to drop it. He could just tell.
"Come on," Richie motioned toward the others, "-let's go end this shit."
And they did. And Eddie was alive. Richie didn't fucking blink until he was out of that crumbling house, breathing.
And then he was. Out in the grass and the blue fucking sky, Eddie was right fucking there.
Richie laughed up at the sky -a little too loud with tears in his eyes; it felt like something totally different now. They did it, and Eddie wasn't fucking dead. Eddie's not dead-
"Rich?" Bev leveled carefully, very close to Ben Richie noticed.
"We fucking did it!" Richie laughed out, grinning so big it hurt, "-We fucking did it, guys. We killed that fucker, for good-"
They all started smiling then, big and bright. Laughs bubbled out of their chests, and then everyone was laughing maniacally. Richie was pretty sure they were being stared at by wandering eyes but it didn't fucking matter, they were alive. Eddie was fucking alive-
"Holy shit," Bill laughed, and maybe he was crying a little (but they all were), "-we did it."
"Fuck yeah, we did!" Richie shouted out, shaking a fist to the sky.
Eddie joined in then, smiling big and wide (and god, he loved him), flipping off, well... everything, "Fuck you, Derry!"
"Yeah," Bev laughed out, spinning around in a circle, "-fuck this shithole. Fuck Derry!"
"Fuck Derry," Ben laughed with her (smiling at her like she's the sun, Richie sorta knew the feeling), and doing the same.
Mike was the last one, eyes glued to the crumbling house. 27 years. He'd waited for this for 27 years. Richie felt an ache in his chest, pressing his lips together.
With a breath, he waltzed over and pulled him into a hug. The big strong type, where you never really wanted to let go. And Richie didn’t. He never wanted to let any of them go. Ever. He just got them back and he would do everything in his power to keep them.
And just like that, every Loser followed suit, gathered around him in a pile. A little like how it was in the Quarry when Eddie…
Eddie’s not dead, stop it.
Richie sparred a glance to his side, where Eddie had his arm wrapped around Richie's shoulder. He could physically feel him, and he only stared at his face a little, hinging on the makeshift bandaging of his cheek. That was all. That was all he had.
Richie grinned brightly. Fuck, Eddie was alive.
He turned back to Mike, arm wrapped around his shoulder in a kind of huddle. Like a team before game time. Well, they at least did that in movies, Richie had no fucking clue about actual sports-
"We fucking did it, Mikey," he whispered low, "-we did that shit. We killed it."
Mike paused for a moment, before throwing his face into his hands and crying. Sobbing, and Richie felt tears burn in the back of his eyes and a sob claw up his throat. He blinked them away. The group only huddled closer, in essence, a little like the blood oath. But closer, tighter, together.
God, Richie finally felt something he didn't even know he was missing. Except for one, something twinged in his soul.
They made their stop at the Quarry. Eddie, as predicted, wouldn't get in the fucking water.
"I have an open wound, asshat," Eddie hissed, calling down from the cliff, "-I'm not gonna get a fucking infection because of nostalgia."
"C'mon, Eds," Richie shouted up, smiling big, "-This is the last time you'll do this shit in your life."
Richie could barely see him, but he saw the telltale signs of Eddie Kaspbrak's resolve slipping. He knew it very, very well.
"Yeah," Bev called out, grinning (tight beside Ben), "-c'mon Eddie."
And then, everyone started chiming in, a mixture of voices: "Come on, Eddie!"
"For old time's sake," Richie shouted up, and he could see Eddie shift his footing.
He could hear his sigh from all the way down here, and Richie grinned wide. Bingo.
Throwing his hands up, he roamed closer to the cliff, "You assholes are paying my medical bills."
"Deal!" Richie chimed, "-I'll cover all the shit. Including all the extra tests that you'll make the poor nurses do-"
"Shut the fuck up, Richie," he shouted down, and Richie felt the same he always did. Like he couldn’t live without him, like he never wanted to.
And then, he jumped in.
Everyone cheered, as he rose to the surface -blinking a few times. Brown hair slicked down his head, and red jacket a blooming darker red from the water. Richie doesn’t think he could ever stop looking at him; even if it gave everything away, he couldn’t stop.
"God, it smells like shit," Eddie scrunched up his nose (he still fucking did that?), "-I can't even fucking imagine what bacteria are in this shithole-"
"Eddie," Richie laughed, "-You're already fucking in here, just fucking enjoy it-"
"Enjoy what, asshole?" Eddie was moving towards him now -face scrunched up and lips pulled tight, "-The fucking dead fish? The fucking... algae in my hair-"
Fuck, I love him.
Richie moved on instinct, smacking a hand across the water -which splashed right into Eddie's face.
His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, as he wiped at his face with his hand. (Which had the same exact shitty water, but hey, whatever works for the guy.) And then, his eyes snapped open, lips pulled even tighter. He recognized something in them then, a fiery competitiveness that meant bike races and winning bets.
"You did not just fucking do that."
Richie promptly did it again with the goofiest fucking grin on his face.
Eddie's face hardened, eyes steel, but Richie could see the ever-so-slight quirk of his lips.
His voice sharp and eyes solid on him, Eddie spoke -ice cold, "You are so fucking dead."
They, as two 40-year-old men, chased each other through the Quarry. Richie felt like he was on a high, Eddie chasing after him and the laughter of his friends and they fucking killed it-
And then, night fell. Everyone made their way to their hotel rooms, the exhaustion of the day rattling through their bones. And Richie felt that, he did. But, he just couldn't...
He was staring at his bed like it was his enemy. Because one of two things could happen; one, he'd wake up to a completely new day, or two, he'd wake up in the same world as before. Hungover and without Eddie. He didn't want to do that, he didn't want to go back-
So, Richie Tozier didn't lay down. He just stared.
And it made him think of that other world. The blood, and Eddie going so fucking pale, and being dragged away, and being surrounded by everyone in the Quarry like it would change shit, and the fucking carving, and the crying and-
Knock, knock.
Richie flinched so hard that his glasses went askew on his face. A breath wracked through his lungs, and his eyes were blurry. He blinked once, turning to face the door and waiting.
Knock, knock, knock.
Persistent fucker, his mind chimed. And despite the fear that it may very well be that stupid fucking clown, Richie made his way to the door. Inhaling a shaky breath, he went to open it-
"Richie, I swear to fucking god, open this door."
He blinked again and obediently went to open it quickly. And there he was, Eddie Kaspbrak, in new clothes, fancy pajamas, if Richie were to describe them. They might even be silk. Were those his fucking initials?
"I need you to look at my cheek," Eddie spoke quickly, frantically, "-It's kinda been fucking stinging since I got into that shitty water. Which, fuck you, by the way, that was so fucking stupid-"
Eddie's not dead.
Richie just stared wordlessly, eyeing the motions with his hands and the frown persistent on his lips. It all looked just like when they were kids, just older. It was the same old Eddie. Just older.
Eddie's not dead. He's right fucking in front of me-
"-I have no fucking clue why I fucking listened to you. I could be dying right now, for what? A fucking experience? I could have probably fucking better experiences if I didn't die because of some fucking infection from-"
Richie just moved on autopilot.
He leaned forward and grabbed Eddie in a hug. A tight one. The kind that said 'please don't disappear' or maybe 'I'm not letting go first'. And he wasn't. Richie Tozier wasn't letting go if it would fucking kill him-
He didn't see Eddie's lips snap shut, but he did hear the click of his mouth as he did so. And he did feel the hesitant hands wrapping around Richie like it was somehow new territory. And it kind of was, but at the same time wasn't, shit is so fucking complicated-
"Are you okay?" Eddie asked carefully.
Richie felt puffs of breath along his skin. Breathing, he's breathing.
He felt the thrum of Eddie's heart in his own chest. Beating, it's beating.
And Eddie was talking. Alive, he's alive.
"Rich, seriously," Eddie leveled again but made no motion to move, "-You're really fucking freaking me out."
Richie took a deep breath in, but it kinda felt like it was getting nowhere. Like it was lodged-
"Come on, asshole," Eddie continued, "-I want you to fucking talk for once, and you won't do it?"
Richie finally took a step back, ignoring the tears that dusted his eyes as much as he physically could, and sniffling. He couldn't exactly see Eddie staring, worried, but he could feel that shit. Had always been able to. He fucking craved it, wanted Eddie to look at him, all the time. Even now, as a fucking 40-year-old man-
"Richie-" Eddie started, eyebrows furrowed together.
"You died," Richie interrupted, flatly.
Eddie's face contorted into a few different emotions, some he could read, and others he couldn't, "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm right fucking here-"
"You weren't," Richie echoed out, throat scratchy, "-Eds, I don't know what the fuck happened, but yesterday you died. That stupid fucking leg got you-"
Eddie was just staring at him.
"-and I drank myself to sleep. Except when I fucking woke up, I was in those sewers again."
Eddie pursed his lips for a second, eyeing Richie peculiarly, "Did you fucking hit your head too hard? What the fuck-"
"Eddie, I am serious," Richie exhaled, grabbing his arms, "-so fucking serious. You died. You died in my fucking arms. You... There was so much fucking blood, and you were-"
"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie muttered out, eyeing Richie like a bomb that might explode if he made the wrong move (which was probably accurate).
"-dead, Eddie. Gone. The others had to drag me out of there because I didn't want to leave you. And then, and then, I wake up and you're here again, you're living. And I fucking saved you."
There was a pause.
Eddie tilted his head to the side, before frowning, "Fuck, you're serious, aren't you?"
"Deadly," Richie assured, blue eyes locked onto brown eyes.
"Okay," Eddie gnawed at his lip, gears turning (maybe getting used to the insanity), "-so what's... You think the goal is fucking... saving me? Or... Or what?"
"Goal?"
"Well, there's some fucking reason you're here again, right?" Eddie asked.
Richie pressed his lips together, "Maybe, I don't... I just don't know if this is a fucking dream, ya know? If I'll... If I'll wake up in that shitty world, I don't think... I don't think I can handle that, Eds. I can't..."
Lose you again, his mind finished and Eddie's lips fell into a tight frown.
"I can't guarantee shit, Rich, but-" he echoed out carefully, "-this is real as fuck. It's not a dream. I just know it, I can feel it. I remember so much shit now from when we were kids. It's... It's fucking real."
"It fucking feels like it, yeah," Richie echoed, "-but that shit... I mean what the fuck. What if it's just... What if I fucked something up? What if it's something else?"
"Even if it is, Rich," Eddie kinda awkwardly put a hand on his bicep, "-you'll figure that shit out."
Richie swallowed, okay.
"Now, can you please fucking disinfect my cheek?"
It was a very intense cheek cleaning (in both ways), Eddie making him do about everything in the book and Richie trying to not convey the fact that he was freaking the fuck out because he was touching Eddie Kaspbrak’s face right now, what the fuck-
And then, after about an hour of staring at his bed, Richie hesitantly laid down. Shitty pillow under his head and a scratchy ass blanket covering him, Richie hoped everything in his body that he'd wake up to a new morning. Not the one from before, Please, God, I know I've fucked up, but don't take me back there.
Richie couldn't tell you when he fell asleep, but he did. And it was actually kind of nice, except he was pretty sure he had a crick in his neck, maybe from crash landing on fucking rocks-
"Richie-"
Richie's eyes snapped open, and he was right back in those sewers. Eddie was on top of him, grinning so big that he doubted he'd ever physically seen it, even as kids.
He furrowed his eyebrows (again?), "Eddie?"
"I think I-"
Richie rolled them over, instinctively. That had to be a piece of the puzzle. If it wasn't, he'd stay here for fucking ever. He couldn't let Eddie die again, it just wasn't gonna fucking happen-
"What the fuck are you-"
Crack.
Both of their eyes snapped to the claw, stabbed into the rocks. Just like before.
"Shit," Eddie swallowed again. Just like before.
His eyes naturally flicked across him, no blood, no spider leg, no stupid last words-
"Richie?" Eddie's eyebrows pulled together, just like before.
There was a breath and Richie stood up, extending a hand, "Let's fucking finish this."
Eddie furrowed his eyebrows again but took the hand -unhesitatingly. Richie immediately dragged him over to the others. He didn't say anything this time, was that a good thing? Richie knew fuck all.
They killed It again. Richie told them the same shit he did last time, and they did it. Again.
Was this some kind of eternal torment? Was he stuck in hell?
What else could it fucking be? Was it like stacked shit? Did he have to do it in the right order? He was fucked if so because Richie couldn't think for shit right now. Was there some kind of secret-
Richie blinked. No.
'Your dirty little secret,' chimed through his head.
No, fucking really?
No, he can't. What the fuck? Aren't you supposed to do that on your own time? Like, make sure you're fucking comfortable and know you're in a safe place?
Richie's eyes darted to the Losers. Ben and Bev wrapped in each other, Mike staring back at the house, Bill swallowing back tears, and Eddie... well, Eddie was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows -worried. Richie recognized it (same as when they were kids).
This was a safe place, his mind carefully noted, probably the safest place you’ve ever been in.
Fuck. Okay, Tozier. You just fought a demon clown, almost died. What's... What's confessing a lifelong secret? One you spent your whole life hiding?
Richie breathed in and slowly breathed the air out.
"Guys," he cleared his throat, everyone snapping to him, "-I have to say something."
All of them were staring at him, it felt a little like he was on tour. All the eyes and the lights and the nerves just before he started the same routine he always did. Way more fucking scary because this was real (no more fucking ghostwriters) and he cared about these people.
"God, okay," Richie let out a big breath, shaking his hands, "-I've been lying my whole fucking life, and the... the dumbass clown used it against me. So, Imma tell you guys because... because I'm sick of hiding it."
"Richie?" Bev piped up carefully.
"Shit, fuck," he swallowed, looking up at the sky, "-I'm... I'm gay."
There was a pause.
"What?" Eddie asked, blankly.
Richie's gut twisted in his stomach, God. Eddie had to fucking know now. They all did. It was so obvious-
It was so fucking quiet that Richie wanted to bite his own head off. Maybe he could run back into the house and get crushed by rubble, die here, and never have to find out what they thought of him now. Should he say something? Take it back? Would it still work if he did? Or would he stay in this hellhole?
Before he could say a word, all of the Losers swarmed him. And Richie froze solid, Bev moved forward first, wrapping him into a hug that he’d long ago forgotten (but had maybe been craving since he’d lost it). Everyone else followed suit, surrounding him like a barrier to the cold fucking world-
Well, except for one, Eddie stayed behind -blinking rapidly and just staring like he was processing. Richie couldn't ever really stop noticing Eddie, it was in his blood. Fuck.
Do you know, Eds? Can you see it? Do you know-
And then, Eddie slowly joined the group in the pile hug. In retrospect, similar to both Mike's and his own, well, a lot similar to his own. Crying and surrounded by them, for two entirely different but too much of the same things. They went hand-in-hand.
Richie said the first thing that came to mind, “I really fucking love you guys.”
There was a chorus of the same sentiment, and Eddie’s was the last one, soft and careful. Almost like he was a little hesitant, confused maybe. Richie couldn’t think much about it. Not now.
Everything in the Quarry ended up the same, even after the whole confession. Richie was a little surprised, especially since Eddie had acted so strangely about it. But it was the exact fucking same, chase and all.
And then he was in the Townhouse.
Knock, knock.
Richie pursed his lips, here we go again.
Knock, knock, knock.
Richie made his way to the door, slow and steady. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd do this time, but he'd figure it out. He could never be wordless with Eddie around, probably ever. His mouth just ran, but he hoped to God that he wouldn’t slip up, it felt like it was already teetering-
"Richie, I swear to fuc-"
He swung the door open, and Eddie stood there in his same silk pajamas with his initials on them. This time though he looked a little shocked, something screwing up in his face, and then, there was something else. Something new.
A good sign. Probably.
"Eddie?" Richie asked, genuinely, "-What's up?"
Eddie paused, squeezing his lips together.
"I don't," he sighed, before pinching his nose, "-I don't know if this is fucking... unnecessary. But I, um, I wanted to apologize for... for acting the way I did, after you..."
"Confessed?" Richie continued, after a long silence. It still felt a little scary to say.
"Yeah," Eddie fidgeted with his hands (nervous, Richie knew, but why?), "-I just... I was fucking shocked. Really shocked. I never... I never knew."
"Well, Eds," Richie laughed, something in him lightened, "-I didn't fucking tell you."
"There's supposed to be fucking... signs, asshole," Eddie hissed, red crawling up his collarbone, "-but you... All you did was talk about girls and... and fucking my mom. It's just... It makes no fucking sense."
"There's something called repression, Eddie," Richie spoke, slow, like he was talking to a child.
Eddie's face screwed up into frustration, before he spat out, "Yeah, well, why go the opposite fucking way? Why not just, ya know, lie every once and a while? And not talk about girls all the fucking time."
Huh, Richie hadn't seen this in a while. Kaspbrak Curiosity. It was something about being shoved away in his house and limited to what his Mom wanted him to do. Richie saw it in eating all kinds of shitty candy and Eddie asking for one ("just to see how it tastes") or asking to try and drive Richie's piece of shit car because his Mom wouldn't let him even get his license. So, he coined the term: Kaspbrak Curiosity.
Why did he want to know about this though?
Richie waved it off, instead, motioning him inside, "Come on in, Eduardo, let's have a chat."
Eddie paused for a minute at the door, hesitant, but slowly came in. Richie sat on one side of the bed and laid completely down, and Eddie sat up on the other against the foot of the bed -looking at him. It was reminiscent of when Eddie used to come over (when his Mom would let him), memories came flashing back to Richie's mind. He was getting that a lot now.
"To answer your question," he blew out a raspberry and stared up at the ceiling (avoiding eye contact), "-I didn't want fucking anyone to be suspicious. Not a soul. So, I... So, I oversold it because I was scared shitless. I was a little kid and I had already been faced with… mortality and I was scared fucking shitless. I didn't want to one, die, I kill a crazy fucking clown monster just to get fucking hate crimed? Yeah, not fucking happening. Or two, lose everybody I love because I... because I'm…"
Richie couldn’t finish his sentence. It still felt so wrong openly saying it-
Eddie pressed his lips together, before saying, "You wouldn't have lost me."
Richie laughed, and he watched Eddie harden -sharp as a blade, "Eddie, you were terrified of fucking germs and sickness. And it was the 80s, I... I would've fucking lost you."
"I wasn't scared of-" Eddie started up, before changing his path, "-That stupid fucking blood oath I held your hand. And I shared your, terrible for you, by the way, fucking candy bars. And we wrestled like every fucking day-"
Richie watched him, curiously.
"-I was never afraid of your germs. Not really."
Richie pressed his lips together, not sure what to say, "Well, I thought you would be. I was scared. And I was young, and it felt like the whole fucking world was against me."
"Did you-" Eddie spoke, before clearing his throat, "-How did you, uh... know?"
Richie tilted his head, connecting their eyes, "How did I know I preferred dicks?"
Eddie scrunched up his nose, shoving into him (Richie felt the touch for longer than it was there), "That you were gay, dickweed. Why does everything come back to sex with you?"
Richie shrugged, laughing a little.
Before he could follow up with anything though, Eddie was talking.
"Did you have like... celebrity crushes or... fucking guys you liked in general?"
"In general?" Richie quirked a brow.
"God," Eddie huffed out a breath, "-Did you have like crushes on guys at school or some shit? Were you in like... secret relationships? And how did you hide that shit, if you did-"
"You think I was living some second life, Eds?" Richie laughed, nerves biting up his throat (you, you, you), "-Just because I was gay I was living some undercover fucking lifestyle?"
"No, asshole," Eddie snapped back, "-I just. I’m just fucking curious. Sue me."
Richie eyed him for a second, before exhaling a big breath. If this was anyone else, he wouldn’t have said shit. But it was Eddie, so he did.
"I didn't-" Richie bit his lip for a second, not looking at Eddie, "-I didn't have any secret fucking relationships unless you count in my mid-20s and those were… But I did, yeah, I did have fucking 'crushes'."
"But no relationships to come out of them?" Eddie asked, genuinely.
"You think I ever fucking told anyone I liked them like that back then?" Richie laughed, turning to him, "-That's a fucking death wish. And surprisingly, I didn't want to die."
“Well,” Eddie started, before pressing his lips together, “-it’s just… You talked all that shit about fucking first kisses and sex and you just didn’t have them? You were fucking lying?”
“Overcompensating, again,” Richie remarked, but didn’t stop, “-but, there was more to it, yeah. I did do… some of those things. Just maybe not more than once. It only cemented that it didn’t fucking feel right, and I didn’t like to think about that shit, so I just… avoided it. Other than like… kissing girls to save face.”
“But still, why fucking-” Eddie motioned dramatically with his hands, “-ask girls to dances? Why not just go with us? I never had a fucking date-”
Go to prom with you? Both of us, dateless?
“Everyone was already guessing, Eds,” Richie explained, “-It wasn’t like people didn’t think that I was, they did. They fucking graffitied bathroom walls saying it. So, the more I didn’t… conform, the more fucking fuel they had.”
“So,” Eddie paused, before asking -directly, “-How long have you known?”
Since I realized what I felt about you, chimed through his head. Richie ignored it.
“I think I’ve always known, but-” Richie gnawed at his lips, “-I never really confronted it until like I was 12, 13 maybe. When everybody was, ya know, dating and in couples, I was like hit with the fact that I…”
Wanted you.
“-didn’t want a girlfriend. At all.”
Eddie puffed up his cheeks a second like all of this was making him think. Maybe too much. If he thought about it too much, he might come to the very obvious conclusion that was right in front of him. Blindingly shining, so bright that you couldn’t fucking avoid it. Eddie wasn’t stupid, scarily naive and gullible sometimes but definitely not stupid.
So, Richie interrupted the thought process. Didn’t let him get there.
“How’s the ole battlescar?” Richie asked -motioning to his cheek, suddenly remembering that the previous Eddie (what the fuck was his life) had complained about it stinging. He didn’t want him to fucking die of infection after all of this.
“It’s fine,” Eddie replied, hand coming up to touch the fresh bandage but stopping halfway there (probably something about more germs from his hands).
Richie furrowed his eyebrows, “You sure? It doesn’t like… sting or anything?”
“No,” Eddie looked at him oddly, “-it’s fucking fine. Did you not hear me the first time?”
Then, why the fuck did you come here the first time?
“Jeez, fuck me for being concerned,” Richie laughed a little, but it wasn’t all there -his head was spinning. Why the fuck would he lie about that?
The banter continued until much, much later than last time. It felt a little like Eddie didn’t want to leave, and Richie got that and also didn’t believe it for a fucking moment. It was really complicated. Richie's hesitant hope and the close relationship everyone had. Eddie didn’t want to leave, but they were close fucking friends who had lost each other for 2 decades, of fucking course he didn’t want to go. But then, Richie had hoped.
He cleared his head that night and hoped somewhere deep within that this would be it. That this reality where he’d finally said what he’d been hiding his whole life out loud would be it. The end of this fucking… hellscape nightmare (which it kinda was but also kinda wasn’t). I mean that shit was probably the biggest thing, right? If whatever the fuck got him into this mess was… good, then that would be the perfect solution for him. Make Richie live a fuller, happier life.
Well, not the fullest. Not his dream life. But a happier one. Nicer one.
Richie’s brain faded to a soft buzz. And he just fucking hoped.
“Richie-”
Fuck.
He snapped his eyes open, and he was there again. Right where he kinda wished he never had to be, again. It was actually starting to feel like torture. Even with Eddie living.
Richie started brainstorming, as fast as his mind would allow.
Okay, so Eddie's living is definitely a part of it. Why even start it here if not? Saying you're gay? On the fence. So, what? Maybe he was looking at it from the wrong angle, maybe… it’s not good. Maybe this was some twisted fucking move by some shitty monster or universe or… whatever the fuck. The details didn’t matter. Maybe something had to happen here, maybe it was like if Eddie didn’t die, something else had to happen. Something bad. But what could-
Wait. What if…
Richie remembers a lot about the first time, about… Eddie dying and being left behind. He remembers the desperation. He remembers fucking begging whatever was up there in the sky to bring him back. He’d do fucking anything. He remembers… He remembers…
“It should’ve been me,” he remembers saying (it’s why Bev had looked at him like that), “-It should’ve been me who died down there. I’d do anything for it to have fucking been me. As long as Eddie lived-”
Bev had cut him off then, dragging him upstairs to his room.
Fuck. Richie blinked.
A life for a life. Richie for Eddie. Somebody had to fucking die down here and he got the chance to change who it was-
Richie was scared. God, he was so fucking scared. But it was for Eddie, he’d do anything for Eddie. For him to go have a happy fucking life, for him to live. His life sucked anyway. It might suck less now that the Losers were back, but… he didn’t have a choice. And even if he did, between him and Eddie, it was so fucking simple.
“I think I-”
Fuck, okay.
He mustered up what strength he could (his hands were shaking and his body felt far away). It’s for Eddie. It’s all for Eddie. And with a huff, he flipped them.
"What the fuck are you-"
Richie squeezed his eyes shut, like bracing it would do shit. Like trying to treat it as normal would mean he wouldn’t be dying in a few seconds.
And then, the leg pushed through his skin like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like Richie was nothing. Fuck, god, shit-
Richie’s eyes shot open, and a breath shot out of his lungs. It hurt, god, fucking blinding pain. He’d never known what that meant, but now he did. His eyesight was getting splotchy, with white blobs in his vision but he could still see Eddie, breathing Eddie-
Eddie was blinking up at him, Richie’s fucking blood splattered along him -staining his face. Fuck, my blood. My fucking blood-
Before he could say a word, the leg was moving and Richie felt like a fucking ragdoll -jerking with every movement. Uncontrollable. With pain that made everything in him burn but was quickly fading because it was too much… Because his body couldn’t handle it-
“RICHIE!” Eddie’s voice carried across the cave, bouncing off the walls in an echo. It was so pained… So fucking heavy and scratchy and scared and desperate. If Richie wasn’t already fucking hurting everywhere, he was now. His heart felt like it was crushed into thousands of pieces. It’s okay. Eddie will be okay. Eddie’s alive-
And then, there was the slap of footsteps and Eddie was crouched down beside him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eddie repeated like a mantra -eyes scattering everywhere, and Richie’s head started getting stuffy but he stayed awake, to see him one more time (it had been so long, and now he loses him again), “-What the fuck.”
With a breath, Eddie tugged off his jacket and pushed it into the front of his abdomen. Richie had tried that too, he remembers it.
“I gotta keep fucking pressure,” Eddie spoke -frantically, breaths quick (Richie wanted to soothe, but he couldn’t then), “-you’ll lose too much blood if I don’t-”
“I already have, Eds,” Richie spoke, slurred -he was starting to get dizzy.
“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie snapped back, voice scratchy and brown eyes sharp on him, “-Don’t fucking say that, asshole. I can stop it, I know I can-”
“Eddie.”
“No, stop it-” Eddie huffed out, and his face was scrunching up in that way that Richie knew. Fuck, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.
“Eddie.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie barked out, but his voice was shaking (Richie felt numb in his body but his heart hurt so fucking bad), “-What about that sentence don’t you understand, dickweed?”
“Eddie.”
“Fuck you, man, I’m not fucking stopping-”
“It’s okay,” Richie breathed out, it got caught like he couldn’t fill his lungs, “-You’re gonna be okay. You didn’t have me for almost 3 decades, what’s a few more?”
“Shut up, that’s not fucking funny, asshole,” Eddie was sniffling now, hands tying the jacket around his middle -tight (Richie had tried that too), “-Just stop. I’m not fucking losing you again, no. You’re fucking living-”
“Eddie,” Richie tried again.
“No, no, fucking stop!” Eddie was crying now, fully, and Richie felt like maybe the leg had stabbed through his heart, “-Let me fucking do this. I can keep you alive until we get out of here-”
“It’s no use, Eds,” Richie spoke, “-You need to go help them. Go fucking finish this.”
“No, what the fuck,” Eddie looked at him like he was crazy, “-no. I don’t give a shit about that right now-”
“Eddie, what use is me dying if you don’t fucking finish what we started?” Richie laughed a little and it hurt (it was the only twinge he’d felt then, everything else was numb).
“You’re not fucking dying-”
“Eddie,” Richie raised his hand, it took all of his might, and grabbed his arm -Eddie looked at him like the world was ending and he was his last hope (Fuck.), “-go.”
Eddie swallowed, pressing his lips together, “You have to fucking stay awake. Fucking promise me-”
“Go,” Richie repeated. He couldn’t promise anything. It was coming.
“I said fucking promise me-” Eddie reiterated, more powerful -fucking stubborn as ever. God, I love him.
Richie felt like everything in his body was gone, and it was just his head -he couldn’t (and Richie couldn’t lie to him anymore), “Go.”
Eddie gnawed at his lip, tears flowing down his face but looking at him -just fucking staring. His frown kept getting deeper, and Richie couldn’t take it.
“You’re the bravest motherfucker on the planet, Eds,” Richie echoed out, in a weak whisper, “-don’t fucking forget that.”
Eddie was crying, but he stood up anyway, shaking his head once. Still looking like he couldn’t stop, like if he did, Richie would cease to exist. And maybe he was right.
“If you die while I’m gone, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Richie let out a sharp laugh at that, and it hurt but not enough for him to stop. I’ve always wanted to die laughing. It’d be a nice way to go.
And then, Eddie was gone -joining the group.
Richie held on, waiting to hear them start what they need to. How they were supposed to kill It, just in case. And when he heard the yells, the ones just like the first time…
He smiled, something in him relaxing, and closed his eyes.
Out of all of them, this was probably the most peaceful drift he’d ever gotten. The dirt and rocks underneath him faded away, the pain a numb thrum of what it once was. His friends succeeded. They would be okay, they’d all be okay. Richie too, he’d be fine, wherever he went. It’d be okay. Eddie would grow old, and all the Losers would stay close. Maybe even in the same retirement home, and Richie would watch them-
“You are just as fucking stupid as when we were kids,” a voice called out, in a sort of echo.
Richie’s eyes blinked open, and he wasn’t in the Townhouse again.
Instead, he was in a meadow, a field of flowers. It wasn’t scratchy like normal grass usually was but soft, incredibly fucking soft. Richie moved his hand forward to slide a piece between his fingers. Where the fuck am I?
“Heaven, dumbass,” the voice continued (and Richie somehow recognized it, but didn’t at all), “-well, kind of an in-between, actually.”
Richie’s eyes snapped to the voice, almost in sudden realization, “Stan?”
And he somehow knew it was. He was standing just beside him, in a soft sort of sweater with a book cradled to his chest and binoculars hanging off his neck. Bird-watching. He looked the same somehow, with more wrinkles and eyebags, yeah, but still Stanley Uris.
“This isn’t the end of the timeloop, just so you know,” Stan deflected, staring out into the trees (which were swaying with the wind), “-I just asked to intervene. Because you, by yourself, were getting nowhere.”
“Asked who?” Richie questioned, his voice felt disembodied somehow.
“You ever think the solution might be simpler than you think?” Stan asked, deflecting again -pulling out his book and scribbling something down, “-The thing that fucking connects everything? The whole reason you’re saving Eddie?”
“Why are you being so fucking vague?” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, stepping forward once -it felt much bigger than it was supposed to be.
“‘Thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt and see if you were capable of figuring it out yourself,” Stanley answered, finally, and leveled a glance at him -judgemental as ever, “-Which, apparently, you are not.”
“What the fuck kinda afterlife is this, where I’m just subjected to Uris bullying-”
“You’re being fucking stupid,” Stanley stepped forward himself, shoving into his side, “-You killed yourself before facing the obvious.”
“What the fuck’s the obvious?” Richie asked, before pausing, “-That might be a stupid question, but gimme a fucking break here, Stan, I’ve been ‘Groundhog Day’ing it up for 3 days in a row-”
“And I’ve been dead for longer,” Stanley offered -flatly, “- your point?”
“Well,” Richie spoke, a little lost. The obvious?
“Fucking-” Stanley let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “-Let me just walk you through this.”
“What are you-” Richie started, but Stanley didn’t let him finish.
“Alright, trial one,” he started, a little like a teacher giving a lecture, “-Eddie dies, and you can’t do shit about it. You drink yourself to sleep. Why?”
“Because Eddie’s dead?” Richie spoke incredulously.
“Yes, yeah, okay-” Stanley relented, “-but why? Why does it matter so much?”
“Because he’s dead,” Richie repeated -forcefully, and it rattled through the air, “-Because he’s my friend-”
“Richie, he’s everyone else’s friend too, isn’t he?” he asked, pointedly.
“Well, yeah-” Richie tried.
“But you lost the will to live, you wanted to die there with Eddie, you had nothing left to live for, in your mind,” Stanley continued, persistent, “-why? Why is it different with you? For you?”
“I don’t-”
“Richie, you know the answer.”
“But, I can’t-”
“You know it. Say it.”
“Stanley, I can’t.”
“You have to, Rich.”
“It’s not-”
“You known this since the fucking 80s, Richie, just say it-”
Richie just burst, feelings erupting to the surface (god, he had been through so much fucking shit), “Because I’ve loved him my whole fucking life!”
There was a pause, the soft tones of the wind piercing the air. It echoed through Richie’s head and made him just keep talking. Like he’d been waiting to say it. Aching to.
“Even when-” Richie swallowed and his voice was shaky, “-Even when I couldn’t fucking remember him, I loved him. And I couldn’t… I can’t fucking live without him.”
Instead of saying anything else, Stanley let the words hang there for a second. Maybe like he was trying to emphasize them. Trust me, Uris, I know what the fuck those words mean-
“Trial two-”
“What the fuck?” Richie blinked in disbelief, “-You get me to say that shit and then just… move on?”
“-you save him. Why?” Stanley asked again.
“Because I didn’t want him to die, because I had the chance to,” Richie listed off, “-Plenty of fucking reasons.”
“But the main one,” Stanley clarified -voice soft, even though he was being quite strong-willed at the moment.
“I couldn’t go back to losing him,” Richie answered, “-Because I don’t want to be in a world without him in it-”
“Because?”
Richie frowned, exasperated, before repeating, “Because I love him, you happy yet, Uris?”
“Trial three,” Stan kept going, unphased, “-you told everyone a secret you’d kept your entire life. One you were going to take to the grave. Why?”
“Because-” Richie huffed out, “-Because, I was trying to figure out how to get out of that hellscape. Trying to figure out what it needed-”
Stanley pressed, “Trying to get out with what?”
“With… With Eddie,” Richie stressed out, “-I wanted to figure out how to keep Eddie alive. Fucking safe.”
“Why?” he asked again.
“Because I love him,” Richie repeated, and something was slowly stirring in his mind.
“Trial four,” Stanley continued, “-you let yourself die in place of him. Sacrificed your life for his. Why?”
“Because I-” Richie paused, something clicking, “-Fuck.”
“There ya go,” Stanley let out an exasperated sigh, “-Jesus, fuck, that would’ve taken you forever.”
“So,” Richie gnawed at his lip a second, “-I have to… tell him.”
“Yes,” Stanley stressed out, “-That’s all you have to fucking do.”
“That’s not… easy,” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, “-He’s… I just fucking got him back and now, I have to… scare him away again? Like what’s the purpose of that shit-”
“Richie, please do not go down this route,” Stanley groaned, “-Watching you do this shit has been driving me fucking insane, seriously. You killed yourself before thinking that maybe it had to do with the fact that you loved him!”
“To be fair, I didn’t know if this shit was… good or not,” Richie pointed out -defiantly, “-and the whole idea made a lot of fucking sense. When everything else wasn’t working.”
“I get that. Really, I do,” Stanley leveled, “-What I don’t get is how you can go from telling them you’re gay to death? Eddie is the reason you know you’re gay. Why the fuck didn’t that come to mind next?”
“Because it’s my biggest fucking fear,” Richie answered, “-Losing Eddie is my biggest fucking fear. It’s why we’re in this shitty ass reality-”
“And who says you’ll lose him?” Stanley asked, pointedly.
“Me,” Richie explained, “-Everything. Eddie doesn’t fucking see me that way.”
There was a breath, and Stanley mumbled something under his breath (“Even in fucking death.”). He rolled his eyes, grabbing Richie’s wrist and tugging him to a spot past the trees, what looked like a cliff. On the surface anyway. He's not gonna fucking throw me, is he?
“You’re still in that timeloop,” Stanley explained -concise, “-The one where you died. I’m stretching it out to talk to you, but you’re dead right now. Hence you being up here in the first place-”
“Why does that fucking matter?”
“Because, they're-” he motioned off the edge of the cliff, “-still down in the sewers.”
“What do you-” Richie followed the motion to what he expected to be more trees and wilderness. Effortlessly beautiful plant life that would make Richie feel warm and cozy just like everything else here did. Instead-
“No, no, no-” Eddie was scrambling over to him to him (his dead body), voice shaky and heavy and desperate, “-fuck, no.”
It was the sewers, It dead a few feet away. And Eddie Kaspbrak was knelt into the muddy Earth.
“C'mon, Richie, this isn’t fucking funny-” Eddie grabbed at his face (lifeless, something in Richie's stomach twisted, you’re not supposed to see your own dead body), and leveled Richie’s gaze toward him, “-say something moron.”
“Honey,” Bev spoke, a few steps away -familiarly, “-he's dead.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie hissed out, and turned back to him -even still, his hand moved to his wrist (because of course Eddie knew how to check a pulse). And something in his whole body sagged -dead, he was dead.
“You fucking asshole,” Eddie was crying now, shoving into his side, “-I told you not to fucking die. Why don't you ever fucking listen to me-”
The whole place started shaking (Richie found it very familiar), and rocks were falling around them. Eddie was unphased, hands moving to hold his head -holding their foreheads together. If Richie focused enough, he could feel it-
“Come on, Eddie,” Ben chimed, “-we gotta go-”
“No, no-” Eddie yelled back, still not moving, “-Richie wouldn't want to fucking be alone, lost in these stupid fucking sewers. I'm not fucking leaving him here.”
“Eddie, he's dead,” Bill tried.
“Fuck you guys,” Eddie shot back, crying and turning to face them -hands still on his face, “-If you want to leave him, you're fucking leaving me too.”
“Eddie, seriously-”
“No,” Eddie continued, heavily stubborn, “-no. I'm not leaving.”
The rocks were coming down faster, and Richie watched as they pulled at Eddie. Just like they had him. Pulling and pulling, dragging him out of there and he was screaming ("He wouldn't want to be alone, let me go!”), so loud it boomed through his ears even up here -away from it all.
Eddie was elbowing and squirming out of their grips, they hadn't even gotten out of the cave yet-
“Just fucking leave me,” Eddie breathed out, fighting with all his might but still so… broken, “-please. I'm not going without him, you don't fucking get it-”
They all tugged him up and out of there, out of shot of their little view. Even though, he could hear Eddie’s voice echo through the air (“Richie!”) and then… and then, it was his sobs. Loud and desperate -hopeless.
“Fuck, I can't-” Richie turned away from it, wiping at his eyes, and heart felt like it was beat to shit, “-Stanley, I need to get the fuck away from this. I can't-”
Stan's arm wrapped around his shoulder, and guided him away from the edge. Right back to the flowing wind and swaying trees and beautiful flowers. It felt like it was mocking him now. In comparison to those dank, dark sewers, and Eddie screaming his heart out for Richie of all things, for Richie-
“Richie, you need to do this,” Stanley leveled, carefully -eyes heavy on his, “-For everyone. For you, Eddie, me, everyone-”
“What about you?” Richie turned to him, eyes red, “-When I go back, what happens to you?”
“If you do what you're fucking supposed to,” Stanley let out a breath, “-they say I'll be back in Georgia-”
“What?” Richie snapped to him, incredulously, “-If I do this, you come back to life? Why the fuck wouldn't you lead with that-”
“You needed to want to do it out of your own volition, Rich,” Stan smiled at him, “-not for my sake.”
“But still, it's that fucking easy?” Richie exhaled, “-I tell Eddie and you get fucking… resurrected?”
“It's why I'm in the… ‘in between’,” Stanley explained, “-I'm not fully dead yet, just like you aren't. Because you can bring me back. And even if you couldn’t-”
Richie frowned.
“-I'd still want you to do it. Because you need to, we've all been fucking unhappy because of that stupid clown. Don't let that fucker control your life from beyond the grave.”
Richie pressed his lips together, his lip a little wobbly, and threw himself forward into a hug, “I've missed the shit out of you, Stanley Uris.”
Stanley softened, wrapping his arms around him, “I missed the shit out of you too, Richie Tozier.”
Richie laughed, and hugged him a little tighter.
Stanley separated them laughing, pushing him backwards, “Now, go and do your fucking job. I miss my wife.”
“A Mrs. Uris?” Richie laughed a little, but everything was getting fuzzy, meadow fading out of view, “-I'll have to… meet her-”
And the darkness.
What Richie was expecting was not what he woke up to. The first thing he noticed was his eyes were squeezed shut, just like they had been before, when he was bracing himself-
“Not fucking again.”
Richie's eyes snapped open.
“Eddie?”
And there he was, Eddie, face contorted into something he couldn't read. But before he could ask, Eddie tugged him down on top of him and rolled them both out of the way. What the fuck is happening?
How did Eddie know to do that? Why wasn't it me this time?
Eddie was on top of him now, just the same way he was the first time. But he wasn't elated this time, just staring. Big brown eyes blinking down at him, and maybe they were a little bit foggy. Teary.
“Eds?” He asked again.
Crack.
Both of their heads snapped to the side, where the spider leg crashed against the ground. And it felt weird, like everything was different, so much the same but so much different. Incredibly different.
Eddie was definitely crying, now that Richie could see him clearly. What the fuck?
“What’s-”
Eddie cleared his throat, blinking once, and pulled himself off of him -wordless.
Offering a hand, Eddie ignored him, “C’mon, asshole, we've got a clown to kill.”
Richie accepted it, eyebrows furrowed, and stood to his feet. Before he could say another word, Eddie tugged him away. Something of note, Eddie wasn't letting go of his hand -he was actually probably squeezing it tighter. Richie thought the circulation might cut off soon-
“We need to make it small,” Eddie spoke, as soon as they caught up with everyone else -like he knew.
Did he know?
Richie was staring at him, watching as he explained what he needed to and squeezed the fuck out of his hand. His eyes flicked along him, and it felt so familiar. Like he'd felt the first time he'd-
Wait.
Richie blinked.
Was this Eddie's first repeat day?
He didn't get the time to ask, because everything started happening in rapid succession. They killed the clown, just like they always did -except nobody was dead on that nasty ass sewer ground. They were both there, alive. And Richie kinda felt immensely relieved of that fact, honestly, because last time fucking sucked.
Even as they got out of the sewers, Eddie didn't let his hand go, unless it was absolutely necessary (and even then, the rate at which he would shoot back and grab his hand again was unfathomable). Richie just followed him blindly, all the way to the Quarry. He'd joked, yeah, and Eddie had laughed a little, but, he wasn't too… peppy. Just silent and if he wasn't focused on walking forward, he was staring at Richie. Big brown eyes heavy, Richie kind of felt a little overwhelmed, but Eddie was alive and well and so was he. And all he needed to do was tell Eddie that he'd loved him his entire fucking life. And still does.
Right, easy.
Richie swallowed.
In the Quarry this time, it wasn't playful. Eddie jumped with Richie (still holding hands) and didn't say much. He just kept close to his side -fingers intertwined. Richie tried to poke at him, prod at him to get out of his head but it wasn't working. And everyone was worried, he could tell.
It wouldn't come to a head until that night at the Townhouse.
Richie had decided that the best place to do it would be Eddie's visit. Because he always visited, for different reasons, yeah, but he always came. Richie wasn't sure why it was so consistent but it was, so he waited.
Sat in the crappy, older-than-him chair in the corner and waited. Staring at the door like he was paranoid or some shit. He was just waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Richie couldn't tell you when he started to nod off, in that crappy chair, but he did. Eyes smoothing closed and world growing dark-
Knock, knock.
Richie shot up, eyes wide. I didn't fuck it up, did I? Is this a new loop? Did I fuck it up? Is Stanley gone?
Knock, knock, knock.
Richie felt the wood underneath his hands, all chipped and worn. Stared down at himself, showered and clean and still in the Townhouse. Good, okay.
His eyes shot to the window, and yeah, it was much later (earlier? It was verging on morning-) than any Eddie visit before. But this was a new loop, anything was possible.
He waited for the threat.
Knock, knock.
Okay, no threat. Strangest loop yet.
Richie stumbled to his feet, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, and wandering up to the door. With a breath, he pulled it open.
What he had expected was one Eddie Kaspbrak. What he had not expected was an unshowered Eddie Kaspbrak still in the same clothes as what he wore in the sewers with a dirty bandage to top it all off.
Richie frowned.
“Eds?” he questioned, carefully, “-What’s-”
Eddie didn't even react, just pushed himself through the door, past Richie.
Okay, very strange loop.
Richie shut the door, locked it and spun on his toes. His eyes locked onto Eddie, who was staring at him with reckless abandon -big brown eyes just on him. Relentlessly (if Richie moved, so did his gaze). It made Richie want to fidget in place, even more so now that he knew what he had to do. How was he supposed to say that shit with him staring at him like that? All hopeful and desperate and shit?
“Are you… okay?” Richie finally said, slowly.
Eddie blinked once, and swallowed. Like he was holding back tears. Richie frowned again.
“Eds, is everything-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie launched himself into Richie’s chest -forceful enough to throw him back a few steps. And then, he hugged him -tight with pointy elbows like he always used to. Eddie's face shoved into his shoulder, Richie felt for a second like he was frozen solid. Something dormant swirling in his stomach, that made him a little speechless.
Richie blinked a few times.
And when he snapped out of it, he reciprocated the hug -wordlessly. Maybe squeezing him a little tighter too.
He doesn't think he'll ever forget when Eddie died, when he bled out in his arms, and rotted away in that fucking sewer-
Richie swallowed back his own tears.
They stayed like that for awhile, mostly because he thinks neither of them wanted to let go. But, eventually Eddie did. And before Richie could follow up with anything-
“You died,” he spoke, blankly, “-Yesterday, you fucking died.”
Richie's mouth moved before he could stop it, “I figured.”
“It was-” Eddie paused, furrowing his brows together -eyes heavy on Richie in a new type of way, “-What the fuck do you mean you ‘figured’?”
Shit.
“Well, um,” Richie cleared his throat, gently trying, “-I died, you went back to the Townhouse, slept, and then you were back in the sewers, right?”
Eddie's lips flattened into a line, eyes shimmering in some kind of way, “What the fuck-”
“It happened to me,” Richie clarified, before counting, “-I'm on loop… 4, I think.”
“What?” Eddie asked -incredulously.
“About 4 days ago, you died to that leg,” Richie explained, “-the one that killed me yesterday. When I woke up, I was back in the sewers.”
“So, wait,” Eddie waved his hands around, “-you've done this 3 times? Died 3 times?”
“What, no,” Richie corrected, “-I didn't die 3 times, I only died the one.”
“What-” and then he paused.
Something clicking in his brain.
“Wait, so yesterday, you-” Eddie started, tone vicious, “-fucking killed yourself? When you could've just as easily done what I did-”
“I did do that,” Richie breathed out, interrupted, “-3 days ago. Well, technically the day after too-”
Eddie was looking at him like he was insane. Which was fair. He probably would too.
“I was trying to figure out how to get out of this… loop situation,” Richie explained, awkwardly, “-So I was testing some things.”
“So, you tested your fucking death-”
“That was my last option, it just made sense-” Richie defended, hesitantly, “-I thought that if you didn't die, maybe someone else had to. So, I… Well, you know.”
“That is so fucking stupid,” Eddie stabbed a finger into his chest (and Richie realized how close that he was), “-You never should've-”
“Eddie, I wanted you alive,” Richie countered, seriously, and Eddie’s lips snapped shut, “-I was gonna do whatever it fucking took to make that happen.”
Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line, processing maybe -eyes never leaving his, “What were your other tries?”
Richie paused, “What?”
“You said you're on loop 4,” Eddie continued, “-and that you were testing shit. What were your other tests?”
“Well,” Richie sucked in a breath, shit, “-the first loop, I just saved you. Didn't work. The second one, I saved you and-”
Richie gnawed at his lips, breath shooting out of his lungs. Eddie was just staring at him, Fuck. This was going to be so fucking hard-
“And?” Eddie questioned -impatiently.
“And um,” Richie took a deep breath in, (fuck it, he's about to know anyway), “-told everyone that I'm gay.”
Eddie blinked -shocked maybe (that other Eddie was), before asking, “Are you?”
Richie's eyebrows furrowed, “What the fuck do you mean ‘are you’? Why the fuck would I just say that-”
“I don't fucking know,” Eddie shrugged, and Richie watched a fluster dust along his face -frustrated maybe, or embarrassed.
“Whatever, okay, yeah, I am,” Richie said -quickly, “-I thought because it was like… big enough that it would, ya know, work.”
“But, it didn't,” Eddie finished, maybe a little awkwardly.
“No,” Richie confirmed, before continuing awkwardly, “-and then, well. You know the third try.”
Eddie flinched a little at the memory, something in Richie's stomach twisted (“RICHIE!”). God, we both had the same fucking trauma now, I'm such a fucking idiot-
“What's this test?” Eddie interrupted the thought process, shaking his head -maybe to get rid of the memory.
Fuck.
“It's not a test,” Richie deflected, fidgeting with his hands, “-It's what I'm actually supposed to do.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.
“Last loop, I um-” Richie exhaled, “-went up to the big pearly gates, talked to Stan and uh-”
“You talked to Stan?” Eddie asked, incredulously. Richie ignored it.
“-he set my head straight.”
“So,” Eddie paused, “-have you done it already?”
Richie hesitated. Maybe for a second too long, because Eddie immediately caught it.
“You're so fucking stupid-” he smacked his shoulder, hard, “-You've had all fucking day and you still can't-”
“It's fucking… complicated,” Richie interrupted, stepping slightly away from his hands. Nerves flickering up his arms, his heart racing in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-
“If I am stuck in this loop with you for one more day, Richie,” Eddie poked his chest, again, “-I swear to god, I'll kill you.”
“You don't get it-”
“Just do it, Rich,” Eddie sighed, frustrated but somehow supportive, “-I'll fucking help you. If I fucking can. It can't be that hard-”
If only you fucking knew-
“It really fucking is,” Richie echoed out.
“You've already fucking come out,” Eddie reasoned, “-you can't have any fucking bigger secrets than that-”
Eddie stopped, staring at him. Richie swallowed, he fucking hated how well Eddie could read him (even after 2 decades).
“Richie.”
“I know it sounds fucking easy, but it's not-” Richie tried to explain.
“You hid your fucking… sexuality your whole life,” Eddie offered, “-It's not like you hid this one your whole life too-”
Richie didn’t say a word.
Eddie's lips snapped shut, as he looked at Richie. Somehow, Richie wished he was dead. It might be better than this.
“What the fuck?” Eddie questioned, almost angry, “-How do you have two secrets you've hidden your whole life?”
“Almost my whole life,” Richie corrected, “-the first one, yeah. But this one… 30 years, give or take.”
“30 years?” Eddie continued, incredulously once again, “-So, what, it's from when we were kids?”
Richie's heart skipped a beat, and his lips stayed sealed. What a fucking coward.
“Richie, come on,” Eddie nudged him, “-if you know how to fix it, just do it. I won't fucking judge you. We grew up together, we killed a fucking clown monster together, twice-”
Richie pressed his lips together.
“-You're my best fucking friend. I'm not gonna fucking care.”
Your best friend? Fuck, that makes this worse.
“Fuck,” Richie slipped out.
“C'mon man, I'm not gonna be an ass about it this time,” Eddie leveled, seriously, “-I promise.”
Richie swallowed. Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ. This was so unfair, I can't lose him again-
“Richie,” Eddie put his hands on his shoulders, and he stiffened (god, everything he was doing was making it worse), “-I'm serious. I'm not gonna be a little shit like I usually am. This is a fucking… safe space or whatever.”
God. You have to, Tozier, you have to. So just-
“Okay, okay, fuck-” Richie exhaled, “-just give me a second.”
Eddie dropped his hands, and waited. Patiently for once.
“God,” he muttered to himself, and put his face in his hands for a second -anxiety clawing up his stomach, “-fuck. Okay.”
Richie pulled his face out of his hands and sucked in a breath, heavy through his lungs, and tried desperately to look into his eyes. But he was just looking at him so worried, and he was the same Eddie. Just older. The same fucking Eddie that he'd loved as long as he could fucking remember. Just older-
“I loved you,” Richie let out in a big breath, rambling (which was most definitely incriminating at this point), “-Well, love, present-tense, because it all came back to me at the restaurant and it's… it's fucking still there. So, I love you. Yeah, that's… That's it.”
Eddie blinked once, “What?”
“See, there we go,” Richie laughed -nervously, “-loop broken. Now, we can get back to our normal lives-”
“Are you serious?” Eddie asked -genuinely.
Richie was scared to do anything at all, “Why would I not be?”
Eddie blinked at him again, “30 years?”
“More or less,” Richie answered -awkwardly.
“But what about-” Eddie paused, something in him softer, “-what about those years that you forgot? You can't fucking count those.”
“Well, it didn't stop,” Richie swallowed, “-it was still there, I just didn't know… who it was for. Until I… Until I came back to Derry, obviously.”
Eddie was just staring at him. Richie sorta felt like vomiting.
“Look, I get that you're married and you're straight,” Richie laughed, nervously, again, “-It's just… you know, I have to tell you to get out of this-”
“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Eddie interrupted, pointedly, “-If this… If whatever the fuck caused this didn't happen, would you have ever told me?”
Richie knew the answer to that one, “Fuck no.”
Eddie frowned, eyebrows furrowed, “What the fuck were you gonna do? Just… be my friend that secretly loves me for life? Why wouldn’t you fucking tell me?”
“You're married,” Richie pointed out, repeating, “-and straight. And I've went for a straight guy in my 20s, many a times, but I'm in my 40s now, and you're my best friend. So-”
“Myra is exactly like Ma,” Eddie said -suddenly, like he couldn’t control it, “-She picked her out, so I shouldn't be fucking surprised.”
“That doesn't-” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, confused, “-That doesn't cancel out the fact that you're married, Eds.”
“We're getting divorced,” Eddie continued -calmly, like any of this made sense, “-I called her earlier today.”
“O-kay,” Richie fidgeted, unsure what to do, “-what am I supposed to do with that information?”
Eddie paused, pressing his lips together. Like he was trying to figure something out, or maybe just finding the right words. Richie was incredibly confused. Well, at least they're out of the fucking loop now-
“When you…” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lip, “-died, yesterday. I… I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do. They dragged me out of there, and then I was on the grass, and I… I was in the fucking mud, but I couldn’t move.”
Richie almost started talking but something in him told him to stop, something that sounded a little like Stanley Uris (in a flowery meadow). So, he kept his lips sealed.
“I felt fucking chained,” Eddie continued, not looking at him -swallowing, “-to that stupid fucking house. I was numb, and it felt like… Well, during the decades I forgot everyone, I was numb. And when I got everyone back… When I got you back, everything fucking came back. I felt like Eddie again, not fucking Mr. Kaspbrak or… or Edward, Eddie.”
Richie listened, it felt like all he could do.
“And then you fucking… You were gone again, and I thought-” Eddie exhaled, voice shaking, “-I thought with fucking everybody I’d still be Eddie. But… fuck, man, Eddie was down in those sewers with you. He wasn’t… I wasn’t Eddie anymore then, either.”
Richie watched Eddie fidget with his hands and noticed his ring was gone -it was a plain silver one that he’d noticed as quickly as he’d noticed Eddie. He tried to drown any thoughts about it, but now they were all resurfacing.
“I don’t think-” Eddie cleared his throat, “-I don’t think Eddie Kaspbrak exists without Richie Tozier. He didn’t before, and he fucking didn’t… after. So, when you died… I- Fuck, I just wasn’t… Eddie was dead too-”
“Eddie,” Richie tried, but there wasn’t much force behind it.
“-and I didn’t… Fuck, Rich, I couldn’t live with it. I couldn’t not be Eddie anymore. I couldn’t go back to my shitty job and my shitty life, because I… I had you back and nothing… nothing could amount to that. Nothing could fucking compare to him, to Eddie Kaspbrak, to your Eddie. And you weren’t even here anymore. So, what’s… So what’s the point? What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
“Eddie,” Richie repeated, something crawling up his throat.
“I mean I couldn’t… Richie, I felt an ache that I’ve felt for fucking 2 decades, and then-” Eddie’s face twisted up into a mixture of things, “-and then it was gone because of you. And it felt so… And then you were dead, and it was there again. And every second I was in this shithole of a town, I kept seeing you. I kept fucking remembering… everything. When that ache wasn’t there, and when you were there. When you fucking replaced it. It made me want to fucking… die. Because you’d-”
Eddie looked up then, and his eyes were heavy but staring straight into his soul. Richie pressed his lips together, trying to hold back everything that wanted to spill from his lips.
“-You’d be there,” he was laughing a little, teary laughter, “-And I’d be Eddie again.”
Richie felt his hands shake, so he clasped them together to hide it. It felt like something was twisting in his chest -feelings heavy in every part of his body. He didn’t know what the fuck to do. It all felt so far away, so confusing and twisted.
“So, maybe I haven’t known my whole life,” Eddie’s eyes darted away, and he was fidgeting with his nonexistent ring again, “-but I… I sure as fuck know now. And maybe I don’t know how long I have, but I know I do now. I think that’s all the fucking matters.”
“Eddie?” Richie questioned.
That was when Eddie looked up at him, eyes heavy but something in him steeled. Stubborn, for lack of a better word, ready. Certain. Like he’d debated this for a long time, and he knew it as fact now. Richie wouldn’t let himself hope. He couldn’t.
Eddie moved, slowly, hesitantly maybe, and placed his hands on the sides of Richie’s face. Calloused fingertips pressing, Richie’s brain was suddenly hyperaware of the body heat thrumming against his face. All he could do was blink at him, unsure how to move or what to do-
He leaned his head forward, pressing their foreheads together. Just like…
Richie finally felt his limit, all the grief melting from his body -squeezing his eyes shut (feeling the tears run down his face), and raising his hands to grab Eddie’s wrists.
Eddie’s not dead.
Eddie took a second then, like he was convincing himself too.
Richie’s not dead.
Hands shaking against his skin and breaths ragged out of his chest -sucked in and out.
Richie felt him shaking, and with a breath, he moved his hands up -sliding over Eddie’s, skin to skin. I’m here, I’m not dead.
And with a breath, he pulled back. Brown eyes set on Richie in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp, and hands still on the sides of his face -maybe a little awkwardly, but at the same time maybe normal. Strangely. Like uncovering one of your favorite toys from when you were a kid, comforting and familiar but so, so far away in memory.
“I love you too, dipshit,” Eddie spoke, succinctly -eyes flicking between the two of his, “-Present tense. Or whatever the fuck you said-”
Richie laughed, teary laughter, “Glad to know it was so memorable to you, Eds.”
“You can’t fucking blame me asshole,” Eddie shoved into him and he was laughing a little too, “-I was fucking… stuck on the first part.”
“Were you?” Richie kept laughing.
“Yeah, I mean-” Eddie let out a breath, still a little shaky, “-You were fucking dead yesterday, and I realized, the fucking hard way, that I couldn’t… live with that, fucking… without you-”
“Well,” Richie breathed, “-you don’t have to anymore. I’m… I’m here. Thanks to you saving my ass.”
Eddie smiled a little, something shining in his eyes, “Well, apparently you’ve been saving my ass for 3 fucking days, so we’ll call it even.”
“Woah, I fucking save you 3 times,” Richie laughed, “-and it’s equal to your 1 time?”
“Yeah, because you set that shit up, asshole,” Eddie shoved into him again, “-You decided to fucking sacrifice yourself like a dumbass. It counts for 3.”
Richie countered, “Well, I was trying to keep you alive, so I think I deserve a pass-”
“I wasn’t,” Eddie leveled, seriously, “-I wasn’t fucking alive, Rich. Did you hear any of the shit I said?”
“I did, I did,” Richie raised his hands in surrender, “-I know. I know… I felt… I felt the same way.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asked, a little genuinely -maybe looking for the same things he felt. And fuck, Richie probably felt it 3 times more-
“Well,” Richie tilted his head, laughing -a little nervously, “-There’s no Richie Tozier without Eddie Kaspbrak, right?”
“No, asshole, I said-” Eddie argued, but there wasn’t any bite, “-there’s no Eddie Kaspbrak without Richie Tozier.”
“Yeah, well,” Richie smiled, “-let’s agree to disagree, Eds-”
“No fucking way,” Eddie interrupted, sharply, and stabbed a finger into his chest, “-I’m going to argue with you until the day I fucking die.”
“Dunno how fucked up this is, but-” Richie let out a breath, “-I don’t think I’d want it any other way, Eds.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line (hiding a smile, Richie knew it well), “-Even if you’re stupid as shit most of the time-”
“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Richie laughed, patting his cheek (the unbandaged one), “-you should probably get in the shower by the way. I hate to be the one telling you this, but you smell like shit-”
“Oh, fuck you, Richie-” Eddie swatted at his arm, “-I was fucking-”
And yeah, okay, Richie really wouldn’t have it any other way.