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It starts with Bev and Richie sharing a cigarette.
Eddie doesn’t know what’s different this time, but something is, something doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s the way how Bev leans into Richies space, arms hanging between her scraped knees, neck long and bending, mouth hanging open. Maybe it’s the way Richie takes one long drag with half-lidded eyes, before handing the cigarette over. Maybe it’s the way Richie smiles at her, a little private thing between them, before Bev’s lips touch the filter Richie pulled out of his mouth just seconds ago.
Doesn’t really matter. Something stirs inside Eddie and he thinks, I want that, too.
“You want some?” Bev asks, holding out the cigarette.
Eddie feels his face burning up and hides behind his comic. “No, thanks. I don’t intend to smoke myself into an early grave.”
“Aw, c’mon, Eds, what’s the point outliving us? Might as well go down with us. It’ll be poetic.” Richie pauses, actually considers and then says it anyway. “We both know you can’t live without me.”
Eddie glares over the rim of his comic, glares at Richies bright smile, his crooked teeth and sparkling eyes, behind those ridiculous glasses. The sun sets, Eddie’s throat itches.
“I wish you’d stop calling me Eds”, he lies and leaves, before Richie can come up with one of his snarky replies. He needs to be home for dinner anyways.
Eddie coughs and takes a hit from his inhaler, but for the first time in forever it doesn’t help him breathe.
--
He’s out eating ice cream with Richie, when he throws up the first flower petal.
It can’t be, he thinks, desperately.
The day is hot, the sun burns relentlessly, but Eddie shivers, while forgotten ice cream melts in his hand, soaking his fingers in sticky sugar roads. He stares at the petal in nameless horror. It’s white, slick with his own spit and smells like bile. He should go see a doctor as soon as possible.
A hand closes around his elbow.
“Everything okay, Eds?”
Eddie blinks at Richie, willing his heart to slow down. He wants to get away from Richie’s touch, which somehow burns hotter than a thousand suns. Richie looks down at him with sincere concern in his eyes and Eddie knows he doesn’t need a doctor, he needs to make his fucking testament and see a goddamn priest, because he’s going to die. His stomach turns violently.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost”, Richie says and this time he doesn’t sound like he’s making a joke. Eddie laughs anyway, because it’s better than to break out in tears.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Eddie forces a smile that turns his face into a grimace of agony.
“You’re not.”
“I’m fine”, Eddie hisses, while he backs away from Richie’s hands, out of his touch, out of his reach. He can’t think when Richie’s touching him.
Eddie turns and wipes the petal away, lets it fall to the ground where he crushes it under his shoe.
“Let’s get out of here.”
--
The coughing gets worse every day.
With every cough he throws up a dozen flower petals. They aren’t purely white anymore--they start to get pink and more often than not they are even red, smelling of blood. Eddie stuffs them into his pockets, or--when his pockets are full of petals and nothing fits anymore--into his fanny pack. He carries them around all day. He waits until the sun sets, until it’s completely dark outside, before he sneaks out of his room and buries them in the backyard of his house.
He manages to keep this secret from the losers and even from his own mother. At night he hides under his blankets and coughs into his pillow, shaking miserably, his ribs and his throat aching from weeks of torture.
Being around Richie is difficult, because Eddie’s condition gets worse every time they see each other. Sometimes Richie just looks at him, like he knows something, like everything is written in Eddie’s face and to his own horror he feels how the petals make their way up his throat and they are so many that they’re threatening to spill through the corners of his mouth.
So, Eddie stops seeing Richie.
It’s difficult, but it works. He avoids all the places where Richie usually hangs out and only goes into the Barrens, if he knows for a fact that Richie isn’t there.
It’s better this way.
--
Ben finds out first.
Eddie isn’t surprised by this, Ben is the most sensitive, most empathetic kid he knows, nevertheless, it doesn’t diminishes the guilt and shame Eddie feels, while Ben examines a single flower petal between his fingers.
“Is this what I think it is?”
Eddie nods, helplessly.
Ben presses his lips together. He looks over to the lake, where Bill and Bev are splashing in the water. They are laughing, shrieking and screaming in joy, while Ben watches them from afar and Eddie thinks it’s not fair.
It’s just not fair Eddie’s the only one suffering from unrequited love, Ben should suffer too. They should throw up white flower petals together, until they turn red with their blood, which ultimately leads to their horrible, suffocating deaths.
Eddie hates himself for having these terrible thoughts. He knows very well, why Ben is different from him. It’s because Eddie’s different from anyone else. Ben’s feelings are pure and right, even unreturned. It’s the kind of stuff all the heartbreak songs are about, the ones his mother listens to, when she thinks Eddie’s asleep.
There are no love songs about boys being into boys, not as far as Eddie knows. He thinks it’s because those feelings are wrong and sick, but most of all pathetic and this disease is God’s way of punishing him for his disgusting sins--it has to be. It’s just like his mother had always and always told him.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No.”
“There are ways”, Ben says, carefully. “I’ve heard my mom talk about it. They can cut it out.”
But they wouldn’t just cut out the flowers growing inside his lungs, Eddie knows, they would cut out his feelings as well, all his memories of his love for his best friend and somehow the thought of forgetting about Richie forever hurts more than being suffocated alive by a hundred thousand flowers.
That’s a shitty choice to make. He could never.
“It’s complicated”, Eddie answers instead.
And then, because Ben is not only sensitive and empathetic, he’s also observant as fuck, he asks: “Does Richie know?”
Eddie’s throat closes up immediately. He can’t breathe and he can’t speak, so he just shakes his head and looks away. He’s such a crybaby, but no matter what he does, the tears won’t stop coming, just like the flower petals.
“Maybe, he…” Ben begins, but stops when Eddie grabs him by the collar of his shirt.
“No”, he presses through his teeth, spilling red and white petals everytime he opens his mouth. “You can’t tell him. Never. You can’t. Promise me.”
Eddie’s whole body is shaking, while he coughs. Ben steadies him by his shoulders. “Okay, hey, it’s okay, I won’t tell him. Eddie?”
To what end anyway? Telling Richie would gain nothing. Richie would look at him with different eyes and Eddie could never bear the weight of his disgust, or--even worse--pity.
“Promise me”, Eddie chokes.
“I promise.” Ben’s hand is in his hair. Eddie thinks, he’s crying too.
--
Richie finds out on his own.
Eddie is successful in avoiding him, they haven’t seen each other in weeks, although, Richie tries to get in touch with him all the time. He calls once a day, but Eddie stops answering those calls, because the petals will fill up his mouth completely until he can’t make a sound anymore. Also, he runs out of shitty excuses why they couldn’t see each other pretty fast, so he tells his mother he had a fight with Richie and doesn’t want to talk to him.
His mom never runs out with excuses for Eddie and they are far better than anything he ever could come up with with. He’s sure his mother enjoys this, she never liked Richie anyway for reasons he could only speculate about.
Eventually Richie stops calling and Eddie keeps staring at the phone that doesn’t ring anymore.
The losers know something is up with Richie and him. Ben would never break his promise, Eddie is sure, but he thinks it’s obvious by now, even if they don’t know the specifics. That’s why he’s convinced the losers set him up as he steps into the Barrens to meet them, but they’re nowhere to be found.
Instead it’s Richie he finds, sitting by the creek, throwing rocks into the water. Eddie stops in his tracks and freezes. Richie is deep in thought, he doesn’t seem to notice him and Eddie wants to flee, wants to get away as fast as possible, but the moment passes when Richie turns his head.
“Fancy meetin’ ya here, sunshine”, Richie slurs in one of his voices. His smile is lazy, but there’s a sharp edge to it. When he speaks again his smile is gone along with his slang. “Didn’t expect to see me here, did you?”
Eddie swallows back a big lump of flower petals. “What are you doing here, Richie?”
“Enjoying nature--the Barrens are lovely this time of the year.” When Eddie doesn’t say anything, he continues: “I have a date with Stan and Mike, but they’re not here yet.”
And Eddie thinks they won’t show up any time soon.
“Guess they stood me up. What brings you here?”
“Same”, Eddie croaks. “Bill, Ben and Bev wanted to meet me here.”
“Huh.” Richie looks at his feet, kicking dust with his shoe. “Coincidence? I think not.”
Eddie hates this tension between them, hates the way Richie’s shoulders slump to the ground and the way Richie avoids his eyes. He wants to tell Richie to laugh and make fun of him again, because Eddie misses his stupid mom jokes and terrible voices. Eddie wants to tell Richie that it’s not his fault, it’s entirely Eddie’s fault, and he’s so sorry, and if he could he would fall out of love with him, so they could be the way they were before all this mess started.
Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.
Richie looks at him. “Should I leave?”
“No”, he whispers and regrets it immediately. Richie’s eyes go wide as Eddie manages a half turn and pukes the contents of his stomach into the bushes.
He falls down on his knees, bends over, blinking tears away. Richie is there in seconds--holds him, soothes him, mumbles words into his ear, but Eddie can’t hear him.
Disgusting as it is, Eddie coughs into his hands and coughs and then he coughs some more. He needs to hide the petals, he can feel them crawling up his throat, spilling his secret into daylight--Eddie would be up in the open and that would be the end. The end of everything.
Richie can’t find out, whatever happens, even if he dies right now, right here, because it’s getting worse under Richie’s anxious eyes. Eddie’s throat closes up completely, leaving him breathless, gasping for air.
He needs to get away.
“Don’t fucking touch me”, Eddie chokes out, shoving at Richie, who’s looking hurt and confused.
Richie opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything. He fumbles through his pockets and hands out an inhaler--a spare, offering it like some ancient sacrifice.
Eddie doesn’t take it. He knows it won’t work.
“What’s wrong with you? We need to get you to a hospital, Eddie. Please, just let me help you!”
And for a terrifying moment Eddie is ready to spill it all.
Apparently I’m gay, Richie. All the kids in school are right. I’m suffering from Hanahaki, because I’m a fairy and I’m in love with you and the only way to survive this, is for you to love me back. So, would you mind? You could save me with a kiss!
A breathless laugh bubbles inside Eddies throat. Richie looks at him like he’s lost his mind and Eddie thinks, he’s not wrong. Then he pukes again, longer and harder than any time before and it hurts and there’s no hiding from it.
Richie stares at the petals that are scattered around them in the dirt, stares at the blood and the vomit, at the disgusting manifestation of Eddie’s love for him and Eddie’s dismay is bottomless as he discovers that he didn’t just throw up petals this time.
He threw up a whole flower complete with green leaves and a stem, drenched in blood and spit. Richie picks it up and looks at it for a long time.
“I’m sorry!” Eddie cries.
“Who?” Richie demands to know. He’s furious. “Tell me!”
But Eddie can’t, even if he wants to. His throat already closes up. Again. He can feel the flowers making their way up, he can taste the blood in his mouth, bile on his tongue. Richie goes down next him, taking Eddie’s face in both of his hands.
“I don’t get it.” Richie chokes, eyes glassy with tears. “Who wouldn’t love you back?”
Eddie doesn’t understand why Richie is crying, he’s just dying, no biggie. The lack of oxygen gets to his head. His mouth goes lax. He can’t hold back the petals anymore, so he doesn’t and they keep spilling and spilling and spilling.
This is the end, Eddie thinks. Better make his last moments count. Eddie takes Richie’s hand in his and squeezes. He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t work so well, Richie’s eyes go wide and he’s shaking his head.
“No, no, no, no, no! Forget them, whoever it is!” Richie says, his voice turning firm and determined. “I’ll love you! I already do! I love you.”
Eddie blinks, the world stops.
What in the what?
“You are not going to die on me like that, Kaspbrack! You hear me?”
Eddie doesn’t know about that, his mind is clearly playing tricks on him, but he’s breathing better already and the flower petals aren’t spilling anymore.
Richie licks his lips. “You better believe me, Eds.”
And just like that Richie’s mouth is on him, he’s kissing Eddie like his life depends on it, pressing his whole body into it with force--it's like one of those fantasies he's barely allowed himself to think about. Eddie takes what Richie gives him. He takes it all, everything.
And lives.