Chapter Text
"You're braver than you think."
"Thanks, Richie."
"This kills monsters… if you believe. If you believe it does."
"Beep beep, motherfucker!"
"Richie, Richie, hey," Eddie says urgently, smiling as Richie reaches up to touch him. "I think I did it man, I think I--!"
"Guys, move!" Stan yells, frantically running towards them.
That's when Eddie looks over his shoulder, and sees It gathering itself and gearing up to strike.
"Oh shit!" Eddie quickly grabs Richie and rolls them away, covering him with his body. It roars and lunges its claw right where Eddie and Richie were, and sharply grazes Eddie's arm before he can move them out of the way.
"Holy shit, holy shit!" Eddie shouts in agony, panicking as he tries to heave a still mostly-catatonic Richie up. Then Stan reaches them and helps, hoisting up Richie's other side.
Eddie's arm stings with pain and bleeds through his torn up sleeve. Still, he clutches Richie tightly around the waist, breathing fast. "Oh, fuck--my fucking arm… shit, Richie! We could've died, I could have," Eddie babbles, and looks over at Stan, "I nearly--Stan, Stanley if it weren't for you, we could've- It almost--!"
"Thank me later, Eddie. Just fucking come on," Stan bites out as they rush down to a narrow crevice in the ruins where It can't reach them. Eddie hopes to God that the others follow.
They set Richie down against some rubble. Eddie kneels down in front of him, straddling Richie's legs again as he raggedly sucks in air. Eddie tears off his jacket and hisses at the pain in his arm.
"Fucking shit," Eddie winces, breathing heavy, "Jeez, I really wish I hadn't burned my inhaler," he laments, and grasps weakly at Richie's shirt to shake him. "Rich, come on, snap out of it," he demands, trembling, "Richie, please."
"He's still out of it," Stan tells the others in a shaky voice as they run down towards them, away from where It is trying to claw into the space.
"Eddie, yo-your arm!" Bill says when he's close, but Eddie only has eyes for Richie.
"Richie," Eddie says his name again desperately, still breathing hard. He slaps at Richie's cheek a little, his fingers caught in his collar. "Hey buddy, c'mon. Come back to me, Richie. Please, we need you. I fucking need you. That-that fucking thing won't die!"
At that, It lets out a deep growl and the ground and walls around them tremble.
Even so, Richie's vacant eyes continue to stare blankly at Eddie, wide and lost in fear. Now Eddie knows how Ben felt, all those years ago. Why he couldn't help but do what he did to save her.
After everything that's happened, Eddie knows he should feel brave, at least about this, but he doesn't. He feels just like he did when he was a scared, hurt kid - helpless, hoping Richie would somehow make it all better.
Well, Eddie might not be feeling brave, but he makes a decision. He's not going to lose Richie to that stupid fucking clown.
Shakily, he touches Richie's chin and leans in close, swallowing down his hesitation for long enough to press his mouth to Richie's. The others gasp at the kiss, but Eddie doesn't care. Doesn't care about the clown, or the sewers' bacteria, or his arm searing with pain. All he cares about is getting Richie back.
It's more chaste than even Bev and Ben's was way back when, but it's the best Eddie can do whilst having an all-out anxiety attack.
Still, Richie's lips are soft and warm, and Eddie feels something unlock in the kiss, like a puzzle piece falling into its rightful place.
Richie gasps as they part, and finally blinks back at Eddie with recognition, his eyes flickering around behind his cracked glasses.
"...Eddie."
"Hi there," Eddie sighs with a small, relieved smile. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Rich."
"You... you kissed me," Richie says slowly, wondrously, his voice scratchy and weak. He reaches a hand up to tentatively touch Eddie's cheek.
"Yeah, I did," Eddie says meaningfully, aware of the others silently watching them and ignoring their gaze.
"You did," Richie echoes softly.
"And, um, about what I said before, about... my story," Eddie takes in a deep breath, and tries to be brave. "It was a big deal, it's not just a funny story to tell because to me, it never was. We were totally fucking dating, and I've always lo-liked you so much, Rich, you have no idea. I'm so gay for you," Eddie's eyes go wide. "Holy shit, I'm gay. I need to get divorced, like yesterday. Fuck."
Richie stares at him as he says all this, his eyes widening and darting down to Eddie's lips. Cautiously, Richie begins to smile.
"So does," Richie clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose, leaning closer, "Does this mean we're officially dating now, or...?"
This is the part where Eddie would normally shove Richie away and tell him to shut the fuck up. But right now, at this moment, all Eddie can do is let out a laugh that sounds more like a sob, and collapse against Richie's chest. His face tucked into Richie's damp neck to breathe him in. Eddie wraps his arms around his shoulders, afraid of letting go.
Without hesitation, Richie hugs him back tightly.
"Oh shit, Eds," he says eventually, noticing the blood soaking into his clothes. "Eddie, you're bleeding, man!"
Eddie pulls away and glances down, there's a long gash running from the back of his hand to his elbow. The skin is jagged, shredded open, deep enough to show the sinew and muscle beneath, the dark pool of blood gushing down his arm.
"Oh, that's… that's... bad, huh," Eddie says faintly, suddenly feeling woozy.
"Fear," It growls, its claws scraping loudly against the stone, "Oh, I can smell your fear."
"Holy fuck, Eddie," Richie swears as Eddie falls heavily against him. "Bill, guys quick! Hand me something--we've gotta tie something around his arm, we gotta put pressure on the bleeding!"
They manage to wrap his arm up, closing the wound as best they can with what they have. Eddie comes to enough to notice that it aches painfully, but at least the bleeding isn't as bad.
"You okay there, Eds?" Richie shifts next to him, watching him with concern, but Eddie's feeling clearer now, clearer than ever before.
"Yeah, I think so, but hey," Eddie says slowly, lifting his hand to touch Richie's face. "Richie, I have to tell you something."
"What, what is it?" Richie asks, eyes wide.
"I fucked your mom," Eddie says seriously, then laughs weakly in his face. "Now let's go kill that fucking clown."
epilogue
"I just can't imagine going home," Eddie says on the third day, looking pale and small in the hospital bed, and yet, somehow brighter than Richie thinks he's ever seen him.
Sun streams into the white room, making everything clinical feel soft and warm. The others come by to visit everyday, but Richie hardly ever leaves.
"It's like," Eddie goes on to say, "like it never really was my home, or, or even my life, you know what I'm saying?"
"Yeah," Richie answers distractedly, reaching over to adjust the tape on Eddie's bandaged cheek, and grumbling about how the nurses never seem to do it right. "You're a different you."
Eddie stares at him as he does so, and slowly begins to smile. He reaches for Richie's hand across the sheets, shaking his head.
"I don't think that's it. I think it's more like, I'm back to being the real me, the me I was all along. If that makes sense," Eddie tells him softly.
Richie takes his hand without question, gently running his thumb over his bandaged knuckles, wishing he could kiss the damaged skin there.
"And who's that?" Richie asks faintly, noticing that Eddie's wedding ring is gone. Probably cut off by the paramedics. "Which same ol' Eds are you?"
Eddie grins at him, looking like the mouthy little Eds that Richie knew as a kid. "The one that's always been in love with you, obviously."
Richie can't help but to gasp in shock, and it makes Eddie laugh, sudden and loud.
"Oh, your face, your face!" Eddie giggles fondly as Richie peppers his face with kisses. "Wonder if you'll have a heart attack when I ask you if I can move in."
"Oh, Spagheds," Richie says, deliriously happy, "you ask the stupidest questions." He laughs when Eddie weakly tries to whack at him with his good hand.
Eddie is left with a small scar on his cheek, Richie likes to tell people that it happened during a very intense blowjob incident. Eddie likes to smack him upside the head for it each time.
The longer, more jagged scar is on his right arm. He also has a bit of nerve damage in that hand, and it's the one he uses to write, which sucks, but it's mainly his wrist and only two of his fingers that he really has issues with.
The damage to his hand doesn't stop him from signing the divorce papers, though.
"You're seriously going through with it?" Richie asks for the hundredth time, sitting on the couch and throwing skittles into his mouth. He misses more than he gets, nervous for some reason. "No take backs there, Eddie-bear. I'm a break it you bought it kinda guy."
"Dude, of course I'm going through with it," Eddie scoffs at him, then smiles fondly. He pushes the papers on his desk aside and stands. "It's something that I should've done a long time ago," he says and tilts his head, looking wistful, "Or to begin with. Really, I never should've married her at all. But I guess that was never really me."
Richie snorts at that. "What, and this is?" But his heart beats loudly as Eddie comes to sit beside him on the couch. He casually throws his feet into Richie's lap as one of Bill's movies plays on the TV.
Eddie just smiles at him and scoots in close. Then he reaches out to take one of Richie's hands in his bad one, shakily lacing their fingers together.
"Now who's asking stupid questions?" Eddie sighs and cups Richie's cheek, sweeping in to press their lips together. "This is who I've always been."
fin.