Chapter Text
Derry unfolded itself before them, and all Eddie wanted to do was jerk the wheel to the left and speed all the way back to New York without ever looking back.
Snow dusted the ground, sprinkled the too-familiar old buildings with a layer of innocent white. The streets were quiet, peaceful. Stores had already put cheery Christmas displays in their windows, holiday lights hung between the lamp-posts across Main Street, a crown over the town. It was picturesque. It was post-card perfect, small town New England.
Eddie knew better.
“I like this view better from the rear view mirror,” mumbled Eddie.
“I’m so excited to see Mike,” said Ben from the backseat. He’d been designated the road trip DJ, and was shuffling through the cassettes Bill kept back there in order to find the perfect musical bookend for their road trip. Eddie had a feeling it’d be New Kids on the Block, and wished it wouldn’t be, but kept his mouth shut.
“Oh speaking of,” said Bill, “I promised Mike I’d pick him up something from Keene’s on our way into town. And didn’t you say that you needed an extra toothbrush, Eddie?”
Eddie nodded. The last place he really wanted to go was into Keene’s drug store—it brought up memories he’d rather keep tightly shut under lock and key—but oral hygiene was one of Eddie’s many passions and he didn’t want to risk getting fucking gingivitis because he was too afraid to walk into his childhood pharmacy.
So he found a spot to park the Datsun, hummed in acknowledgement when Bill peeled off into a phonebooth to ring Mike and make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything, and tried not to wince when he heard the jingle of the bells above the pharmacy store door herald his arrival. Bing Crosby sang Christmas carols tinnily over the store speakers.
A woman with frizzy blonde curls leaned against the pharmacy counter in the back of the store, popping her gum. She looked suspiciously like Greta Keene, and Eddie was quick to duck his head and busy himself with browsing through the different toothbrush brands.
After a moment, Eddie heard what sounded like Bill’s voice coming from outside of the store and looked up in interest.
And then all of the blood in his body froze.
Bill stood on the sidewalk in front of the store, but his figure was dwarfed by a sight so familiar that Eddie’s stomach sank to his feet. Sonia Kaspbrak looked almost exactly as she had the day that Eddie had left in 1994—the woman whose presence was so gigantic that she had eclipsed every other thing in Eddie’s life, shrinking and shrinking and shrinking in the rear view mirror of Bill’s hand me down Datsun. He hadn’t known his mother could ever be made to look so small, even if it was just a trick of the eyes.
He remembered his childhood, spent in a crawling state of suffocation. She kept him in a cage, she held the keys, she told him exactly what to think and whenever he dared to question her she would yell then cry, yell then cry, yell then cry until Eddie was thrown into a state of emotional whiplash so confusing that he’d spend the rest of the night in tears, the rest of the week apologizing, the rest of the month torturing himself with the knowledge that he was a terrible boy who hurt the mother that loved him.
He remembered it all. Puffed-up hands that wrapped tight around his wrist, red acrylic nails tip-tip-tapping on the pharmacy counter, the soothing percussion of pill bottles handed to Eddie like a baby’s rattle—you can’t play outside now Eddie, you can’t ride bikes with your friends Eddie, you can’t eat those, Eddie, you can’t listen to that kind of music Eddie, you can’t watch those kinds of shows, you can’t read those comics, you can’t play those games, you can’t be your own fucking person Eddie, because you’re a delicate boy, Eddie, don’t be a dirty boy, Eddie, don’t be filthy, don’t be rotten, don’t forget to love your mother, Eddie…
All of that was bad enough, but it wasn’t the worst of it.
The worst of it was that Eddie loved her. That Eddie believed her, even still. That eighteen years of hearing that he was weak and that he should be afraid—sandwiched between platitudes and pet names like the sugar that helped the medicine go down—was so deeply ingrained in everything he did that he wasn’t sure he’d ever break free entirely. Eighteen years of being told that he should be afraid of everything did make him afraid. It made him believe her. The first year apart had been the hardest—if it weren’t for Ben and Bill, gently holding him through it, helping him find a solid place to stand, he’d have turned tail and fled back to the comforting crush of his mother’s arms, because at least it was familiar.
Even then, standing in Keene’s, separated from her by brick and mortar, Eddie felt that pull. He’d always love her. And that made her more dangerous than anything.
Bill caught Eddie’s eyes through the window, and Eddie understood the message that flashed in his eyes. Go. Get out before you get sucked into her orbit. Run.
Eyes still on the shadow of his mother in front of the store—knowing that the exit was blocked off and Bill could only stall for so long—Eddie felt his throat begin to tighten.
Run, he told himself. He’d always been fast.
Eddie tried to bolt further into the store, but instead barreled right into something warm and solid—a broad chest—with nearly enough force to knock them both to the ground. Hands found his elbows and steadied them both to their feet. Eddie’s breath was coming out in short gasps, but he was about ready to tear away from this stranger and find a place to run to when he realized it wasn’t a stranger at all.
“What the fuck?” Richie asked, hands still bracing Eddie’s elbows. He looked too surprised to joke.
Don’t be a filthy boy, Eddie bear, don’t be—
“—I—gotta—“
Eddie stepped back, breaking Richie’s hold. He spoke around his tightening throat. “I gotta—get the fuck—out of here.” He was too focused on escape to even begin to wrap his brain around the very good question of why the fuck Richie was in Keene’s fucking drug store in Derry fucking Maine.
“Are you okay?”
“I gotta—fucking go,” said Eddie, weaving around the aisles to the back of the store.
“The door’s that way—“ Eddie didn’t need to look at Richie to know that he was pointing to the front of the store. Eddie didn’t need to look to know that his mother would still be shadowing the sidewalk, and he didn’t need to hear her conversation with Bill to know that she was getting impatient.
She was probably coming in for her prescriptions—she used to come in for Eddie’s, long after he’d fought with her over the bitter truth that he’d never needed them to begin with, and she’d mail them to his old apartment in the city, with long letters in her spidery hand telling him that she loved him, was ashamed of him, and was afraid for him all in the span of a sentence. Bill hadn’t let Eddie give her his new address when he moved. They still called each other twice a week, as agreed.
She didn’t know he was in Derry. He didn’t know what she would do if she knew he was in Derry, what tricks she’d pull to keep him here forever. He knew that the best thing he could do for himself would be to make sure that she never got the opportunity to try.
His throat closed even further. He felt that too familiar pressure on his chest, the way his brain narrowed down into a painful chant of I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t—
Concern had driven the shock from Richie’s face, and he glanced to the front of the store for a fraction of a second before nodding and taking Eddie’s hand.
“All right, there’s an employee exit this way,” he said, leading Eddie by the hand past the prescription counter, past Greta and her bubblegum, past Mr. Keene’s turned back, then out into the alley behind the shop.
I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe—
(Eddie bear, aren’t you forgetting something? Eddie bear, don’t run, you’re too delicate to run, Eddie bear, don’t forget to take your medicine, Eddie bear, never leave home without your inhaler or you might die, Eddie bear don’t leave me, don’t leave me Eddie don’t leave me)
Eddie was going to die. He felt like he was going to die. It was like someone had shoved their manicured hand right into his ribcage and squeezed.
He tried to speak, but wheezed instead.
“Eddie? Shit, Eddie,” Richie’s face was close now, a little blurry because Eddie was pretty sure he was on the verge of tears. He felt one hand hover above his arm, the other near his cheek. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. “Do you need me to run in and get you something, like do you have an inhaler or—“
“—No—“ Eddie said as fiercely as he could through his closing windpipe.
"What do you need me to do? Jesus fuck, what do you need? Holy shit holy—" Richie's voice was approaching an octave that could only mean he was about five seconds away from a nervous breakdown himself, and Eddie shot him a mean glare that he hoped would be interpreted as shut up and stop panicking you idiot.
He tried to remember what Mike used to tell him when they were younger—this is the hard part, then you can breathe easy. He tried to slow down the racing of his heart—tried to remind himself that this was all in his head, that his lungs worked just fine, that his body didn't need to compensate for perceived danger, that he was fine and he was safe and his lungs had never been broken—but Eddie bear ran on repeat in his brain and all he could focus on was a parade of memories of his childhood under lock and key, the certainty that if she got her claws into him again she'd probably get him back—
“Hey,” said Richie, voice suddenly even and low. Eddie met his eyes. “Can I…?” Eddie looked down to see that Richie’s hand was extended towards him, palm up, an invitation. Eddie looked between it and Richie, looked at it like it had teeth and would bite, looked at it with the knowledge that it could spark a whole other kind of panic, Eddie looked at it knowing all of these things and took his hand anyway.
—I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe (Eddie bear don’t leave me Eddie bear you’re delicate Eddie bear you’re dirty) I can’t —
“Breathe with me okay?” said Richie, “You said you don’t need an inhaler and I believe you, so. Your lungs are fine, dude. Just, in and out and all that shit.” Richie took some exaggerated deep breaths, holding Eddie’s gaze the whole time, and Eddie tried to match Richie’s pace. Breathe in for four, hold for four, exhale for four. Repeat as needed. Just like during that summer at Hanlons’.
—Eddie bear Eddie bear Eddie bear—
“Did I ever tell you about the time that I graffittied the wall back here? Tried to, anyway.” Richie’s voice was even, casual. His hand was warm and strong, and Eddie squeezed it tight, drawing whatever strength he could from it as he inhaled for four, held for four, exhaled for four. He didn’t want to break his rhythm to speak, so he just shook his head, because what the fuck, of course he hadn’t heard this story, he hadn’t even known Richie had ever been to Derry until about sixty seconds ago.
“Bev dared me. We did that all the time, man, just swapped dares because this town could be so fucking soul-sucking if we didn’t make our own fun, you know?” Breathe in for four, hold for four, exhale for four.
—Eddie bear—I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I—
Eddie felt Richie’s fingers tighten gently around his. In for four, hold for for, out for four. He squeezed back. “I think I was thirteen or fourteen. She got the spray paint, and we both picked this spot because Mr. Keene? Yeah fuck that guy. Anyway, Bev went first even though it was technically my dare, she wanted in on the fun you know, and I can’t even remember what it was that she wrote, or I wrote, but I remember thinking mine was so fucking funny, like we’d get some real chucks outta that one, and so when Bev passed me the can—“ In for four, hold for four, out for four. Eddie felt his throat begin to loosen, felt the grip on his chest ease just slightly. He tried to breathe in for six the next time. “—I got a little too excited. Wasn’t the most careful back then—shocking, I know, look at me, I’m the poster child for well-adjusted adult responsibility—“Eddie smiled, shaky, but it counted. In for six, hold for six, out for six. Richie smiled back.
“And, I uh,” Richie’s voice faded into embarrassed laughter before he tried again, “I didn’t realize I wasn’t actually pointing the nozzle at the wall…and—“ he laughed again, and Eddie breathed in for six, held for six, out for six “—I, uh, shit this is so embarrassing, promise not to tell anybody, okay Spaghetti? I’ll hold you to that, seriously dude.” Eddie’s head was beginning to clear, the panic lodged in his throat shook loose and faded away. In for six, hold for six, out for six.
“I, uh, I spray painted my own face.” Eddie’s eyes widened, and he squeezed instinctively down on Richie’s hand, hard. He reminded himself to breathe in for six, hold for six, out for six, but found that his body wasn’t fighting him nearly as much anymore. His body shook, riding out the waves of the storm that the sight of Sonia Kaspbrak had sent him into, but he was in the home stretch.
As Mikey would say, the hard part was over. Soon he’d breathe easy.
“I had my glasses, duh, and they took the brunt of it, and the nozzle wasn’t like, pointed straight at my face so it only really got one side of it, but dude—“ Richie dissolved into giggles “—I looked fucking insane. My glasses were totally fucked, like one lens was totally painted over and the other was half covered, and I had this huge splotch of red paint all over the side of my face and it was all in my hair—“ he laughed again “—and of course Bevvie was losing her goddamn mind because it was so ridiculous, and of course I screamed, and so Mr. motherfucking Keene hears and comes barreling outside and shouting about calling the sheriff, blah blah blah—and man,” Richie sounded like he was going to continue the story but nothing else followed but amused chuckling.
Eddie’s lungs worked again. He found his voice and the first thing he said was, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, are you telling me you spray painted your face Rich, oh my god that’s so fucking dumb I cannot even believe—do you know how harmful that shit is—“
“Hey there he is,” Richie said, a touch of something fond in his voice. “And cute of you to care, Eds, but look,” he framed his face with his free hand, “no permanent damage.” A moment passed between them. Eddie still felt himself shake, but less than he had before. Steadier on his feet. “You okay there?”
Eddie just nodded.
“Good. Because dude, I know it’s great to see me and I’m like, gorgeous or whatever, but I really didn’t mean to take your breath away.” There was a lopsided grin on Richie’s face, and Eddie felt himself heat up at the sight of it, at the realization that they were standing pretty close. At the fact that they were still holding hands.
Eddie released Richie’s hand immediately, backed against the wall as if it burned. “It’s not fucking funny.”
“I know,” said Richie, something hardening in his voice, in his expression. “Bad joke.”
There was another moment of silence, but less comfortable. In the worst kind of way. Eddie hated it.
At the same time that Richie started to say, “So—“ Eddie said “Why are you in Derry?”
Richie raised an eyebrow. “Same as you I’m guessing. I grew up here. Did you not hear the whole story back there or…?”
Eddie bit his tongue, nodded. “Oh. You grew up here.”
“Is there an echo out here or something? Jesus. Yes. I grew up here. Born and raised.”
“How come I’ve never seen you here before?”
“Maybe you never looked?” Richie ran a hand through his hair in frustration and looked down the length of the alley.
“Look, Eddie, as much as I’d love to sit here and play twenty questions it’s kind of fucking cold, so. If you’re really okay?”
Something had changed, and Eddie didn’t like it. There was a sharp edge to Richie’s voice, and it felt like Eddie was toeing a line he couldn’t see. “You-you didn’t need anything from Keene’s?”
Richie pulled a pack of Winston cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “All set.” He put them back.
Eddie watched him turn around and walk towards the mouth of the alley, where it fed into Canal Street, running perpendicular to Main. Eddie thought of his mother, still inside the pharmacy no doubt, and he thought of waiting around for Bill to find him, and then he thought of Richie, and the way Richie’d talked him through one of his panic attacks with the practiced ease of someone Eddie’d known all his life, how Richie made him feel safe in a terrifying sort of way. And how Richie had a car.
“Hey, Rich—“
“I’m parked down Canal,” said Richie without turning around, without slowing down. “C’mon, then.”
Richie drove a green 1987 Chevy Silverado, a lot like Mike’s. Eddie wasn’t sure why that surprised him.
“Can’t have this in New York,” said Richie as he leaned across the bench to unlock the passenger door from the inside. The inside was cleaner than Eddie expected, there was a little box of cassettes at his feet, Soundgarden played from the stereo. “So, where to?”
“Uh, the Denbroughs’?”
“Never been. You’ll have to be my guide,” said Richie.
Eddie gave him a few cursory instructions, busied himself with looking out the window at the streets he’d seen his whole life, at the town he’d both loved and hated, buildings he could draw from memory. “How’d you know about the door back there?”
“My best friend used to work at Keene’s. It was his first job one summer during high school and he hated it just as much as you’d fucking expect,” said Richie. “Plus I used to get the shit kicked out of me on the regular. Always useful to know your escape routes.”
Eddie swallowed, wasn’t sure what to say to that. They drove in silence for a while, downtown Derry passed by to the soundtrack of “Black Hole Sun.”
“So how come I’ve never seen you before?” Eddie repeated, as they drove by St. Stephen’s. “Derry isn’t that big. I feel like I’d remember.” Someone like you, is what he wanted to add, if he wasn’t a coward.
“Like I said, Eds,” Richie shrugged a shoulder, “maybe you just weren’t looking.”
“We don’t even know each other’s last names, maybe—“
“Kaspbrak.”
Eddie blinked. “Huh?” He asked, voice thick.
“Your full name’s Eddie Kaspbrak. Just because you never noticed me, doesn’t mean I never noticed you.” Richie’s voice was even, but there was something heavy beneath it as he turned onto Jackson street, never taking his eyes off the road. Eddie didn’t know why, but he really wanted Richie to screw vehicular safety and just look at him. “You ran track all through high school. My dad used to run too, so we never missed a meet. I always thought you were so fucking fast. Fastest kid in Derry.”
Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
They drove in silence for a heavy few seconds, before Richie asked, “so, which house?”
“Uh, the one up ahead on the left. With the porch swing.”
Richie pulled up in front of Bill’s house, put the truck in park. He still kept his eyes on the road ahead. “See you around, Eddie. Or not, I guess, that’s up to you,” he chuckled, but the sound was bitter and dry.
“Um, thanks for the ride.” Eddie opened the door, and slid out of the cab, closing it gently behind him. He took one step towards the Denbroughs before he changed his mind, turned around, and climbed back inside of the truck. Richie gave him a surprised glance. “Wait, no. Are you mad at me or something?”
Richie ran a hand through his hair and scoffed, “I mean, fucking kinda.”
Eddie blinked. “Oh.”
“Yeah, Eddie, oh.” Richie tightened his grip on the steering wheel, Eddie could see the white of his knuckles. “You’re so hot and cold, man, one minute you’re talking to me, the next minute you’re ignoring me. One minute we’re having a good time, the next you just totally fucking freeze up and can’t even look at me. It’s bullshit, man. You can’t just—I don’t know, it’s really god damn confusing, for one thing, and shit,” he looked down, laughed humorlessly. “It doesn’t feel great when the guy you’ve been trying to be friends with for like, a while, can’t make his mind up about you. So, when you do make up your mind, let me know. Otherwise, this whole emotional rollercoaster bullshit is too much for me.”
Eddie didn’t know what to say, didn’t move. Richie leaned over him to open up the passenger side door. “Happy Thanksgiving, Eddie,” he said, and as Eddie stood on the Denbroughs’ front lawn and watched the green pickup get smaller and smaller and eventually turn off onto Witcham, he tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.
—
Later that night, the four boys sprawled together in Bill’s living room, bathed in the low light of his television. Three half-empty boxes of pizza were stacked on the coffee table, the low murmur of Friends’ canned laugh track was the only sound in the room besides Bill and Ben’s content snoring from one couch. Mike and Eddie shared the other, and Eddie gently nudged Mike’s leg with his foot.
“Hey Mike?” Eddie half-whispered.
Mike turned to him, eyes sleepy. “Mmm?”
Eddie spoke around a lump in his throat, “I feel like I’m a bad person, I feel like I just keep hurting people.”
Mike seemed suddenly more alert, his eyes wide open. He leaned over and rested a strong hand on Eddie’s shoulder. It was a comfort. “Hey, Eddie. Is this about what happened earlier with your mom? Because Bill filled me in and—“
“No,” Eddie shook his head, still whispering. “It’s someone else. And I just—I just feel like I’m being a coward, or fucking selfish or something, and that I’m too caught up in being scared of being honest with myself, or for doing what I want, what makes me happy—“
“Is this about Myra?” asked Mike gently.
Eddie just shook his head.
“Oh. Well, Kaspbrak, I’ve known you since middle school and I can say with total confidence that you’re one of the most caring guys I know. Seriously. You’d like, fucking obliterate anyone that messed with us, but when it comes to the people you care about? You never let us forget how much you love us, you never hurt us on purpose. And being afraid of something doesn’t make you a bad person.” Mike’s gaze was gentle, steady. “We both know how you grew up, Eddie. You grew up being taught that you should be terrified of everything that you wanted to do. But you broke free of that, you stood up to your mom when she lied about your asthma, when she wouldn’t let you run. You left her and moved to New York. Man,” Mike shook his head and let out an impressed chuckle, “I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to do that.”
“I’m not brave,” said Eddie, voice small. I’m delicate. I’m a coward.
“Are you fucking kidding me man? You’re the bravest guy I know. My old man used to tell me that fearless and brave aren’t the same thing, Eddie, and I believe that. You were afraid every time, but you pushed yourself through it anyways, you came out ahead, you got through the hard part even though it terrified you. And if that’s not fucking bravery, I don’t know what is.”
Eddie sniffed. “Fuck you, Mikey, you’re gonna make me cry,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too man,” Mike patted his shoulder. “But go the fuck to sleep, I have to drive home to feed the sheep in the morning.”
—
The first thing that Eddie did the next day was borrow the Denbroughs’ phone to make a call to New York.
Bill stood right in front of him, a firm hand on his shoulder, silent support.
In for six, hold for six, out for six.
The line picked up after two rings. Eddie inhaled slowly through his nose.
“Uh, hi. This is Eddie. I think we should talk.”
—
Bill cheered and whooped out of the window of his Datsun as they roared down Main Street. It reminded Eddie of when they were kids and Bill would tear through the streets of Derry on his bike Silver, Eddie tucked behind him on the package carrier, shouting boyishly into the wind, laughing as it nipped their noses and cheeks. It was the closest Eddie ever came to feeling invincible.
Ben cheered too, ruffled Eddie’s hair, celebrated his newfound freedom even if he didn’t understand it.
“How’s it feel, Eddie?” asked Bill, “Being a free man?”
Eddie chuckled self-consciously. “Pretty good.”
Bill swatted Eddie’s shoulder, “Couldn’t hear you, man!”
Eddie laughed and yelled, “Pretty fucking good!” into the wind.
Unease still followed him through the streets of Derry after his close encounter at Keene’s yesterday, but it was the day before Thanksgiving, and Eddie knew that his mother always drove out to Dexter to visit her sisters on this day, to give them all enough time to prep for dinner, so for now, he let himself bask in the unbridled joy of being young and dumb and free with two of his best friends in the world.
Ben had suggested checking out a movie at the Aladdin before going out for drinks to celebrate Eddie’s sudden stroke of courage, so after coordinating everything with Mike, they piled back into Bill’s car and set off. Doubt still nagged at his mind, doubt that had certainly been planted by his mother and then tended to by Myra’s nitpicking, that he was pushing away the only people who would ever have his best interests at heart—but then he looked sidelong at Bill, bright and grinning in the seat beside him, hair catching the hazy winter light, and he looked at Ben, sweet and sunny in the backseat, and he realized that he’d done precisely what he needed to do, and—even better—it had been his decision.
Bill found a spot for the car and they headed out onto the sidewalk, when Eddie caught sight of a familiar green pickup nearby, parked in front of the arcade.
It was time for him to make another decision. He set his jaw.
“Go on ahead guys, save me a seat. I’ll be there in a few.”
Eddie shouldered open the door to the arcade. It was emptier than Eddie remembered it being during sunnier months. Eddie spotted him right away—tall body hunched over Street Fighter, head bent in concentration, practiced hands moving expertly across the buttons.
Decision time.
“Rich,” Eddie said softly, watched as Richie’s shoulders tensed. His fingers faltered on the controls and Eddie saw an obnoxious YOU LOSE flash across the screen. Richie turned, looked first at the floor before dragging his gaze slowly, reluctantly, up to Eddie’s.
“So. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie grinned. “Yeah. Come to the movies with us. Right now.”
Richie tried to tamp down a smile. “No takebacks, you hear me Kaspbrak?”
“No takebacks.”
The smile broke across Richie’s face, wild and relieved and infectious. Eddie smiled back.
“If the popcorn’s on you, I’m in.”