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The banging on Richie’s window wakes him up. He’s locked it ever since that horrible summer and at first he’s grateful because the noise practically gives him a heart attack. But he throws on his glasses, and sees the outline of Eddie, an unmistakable shape he could draw with his eyes closed.
“Eds! What the shit are—“ Richie starts as he pushes up the window.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, just throws himself through the opening and wraps his arms around Richie’s neck. He’s wet and Richie realizes now that it’s raining outside.
Eddie’s sniffling and barely holding back sobs.
“What the hell is going on, buddy?” Richie asks softly. He’d normally be teasing Eddie mercilessly as soon as he saw him, but something was so clearly wrong. He wraps an arm around Eddie, and tucks the other underneath him to pull his small body the rest of the way over the windowsill and into the room.
He places Eddie on his bed, then has to practically pry his arms off from around his neck.
“Just a second,” he says, trying to make the other boy relax. “I’ll be back in just a second.”
Eddie wraps his arms around his own legs while Richie goes and closes the window to block our the cold night wind and Eddie is wet like a dumbass and he’ll probably catch something. Richie then grabs one of his hoodies and brings it back to the bed.
Eddie has stopped crying but he’s sniffling still. Richie grabs some Kleenex and makes him blow his nose.
“Arms up,” Richie says. Eddie obliges and Richie pulls the sweater over and onto him.
Richie is sitting cross legged across from Eddie. And he looks even smaller in Richie’s baggy sweater, even cuter than normal. He tries to ignore the ache in his heart as he puts his hands on Eddie’s knees.
“You’re gonna get the flu, Eds,” Richie says, hoping to get some sort of reaction.
Eddie mutters something probably along the lines of ‘don’t call me that’ but it’s so quiet Richie can’t be sure.
“We’re leaving,” Eddie finally says in a choked voice. Richie’s heart stops. “I don’t want to go and she wasn’t even going to let me say goodbye but I snuck out because I had to come see you.”
“Wh-What? You can’t. You can’t leave, Eds,” Richie says and he hates how he sounds. How weak and how vulnerable and desperate and needy but really, Eddie has to be used to that by now because he’s mostly the only one who sees that side of him.
Eddie takes his inhaler out of his fanny pack and breathes in a puff.
“I know, I know,” Eddie says, sounding angrier now. “I don’t want to...” He looks up at Richie, biting his lip. “Fuck it.”
Before Richie knows what’s happening, Eddie is lunging towards him. Richie falls back toward the foot of the bed with Eddie’s weight on top of him, but he feels so so light because Eddie’s lips are pressed to his and once he can move, he places his hands on Eddie’s sides.
Richie has never kissed someone before and he’s pretty sure Eddie hasn’t either. It’s nice though, if a little awkward. Eddie pushes himself up and away, sitting back up and Richie follows.
Richie fixes his glasses. “Uh—“
“Yeah,” Eddie says, somehow seeming calmer now. Richie’s heart was practically beating out of his chest. “I needed to try that... before I left. Just to see,” he explains.
“See what?” Richie asks. Does it mean that Eddie feels the same way or does Eddie just need to experiment with someone he knows he can trust or maybe knows he’s never planning seeing again.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, dumbass. To see how it felt. With you. To see what you would do.” He crosses his arms defensively.
“And?” Richie asks. And it’s not often he was the quiet one but to be fair, his world had just been turned upside down then thrown off a cliff, so he was a little shaken.
“You’re such a dick,” Eddie says. “I like you, okay?”
Richie smiles, fixing his glasses again to try and hide his embarrassment. “Okay,” he says.
“Are you kidding me right now? That’s all you’re going to say,” Eddie whisper-yells at him. “You’re such a piece of shit. I come over here, feeling like the world is ending, and I’m probably going to get pneumonia and die, to tell you I’m leaving town, and I kiss you and you — Richie the trashmouth — are silent for the first time in your god damn life. I can’t believe this!”
Richie can’t stop smiling at Eddie. He loves him like this. The ranting version of Eddie that can rival Richie’s own snark and quick wit. Before Eddie can get more riled, Richie leans forward to kiss him again, putting a hand to the side of Eddie’s face so he can pull him closer, kiss him a little harder this time.
When Richie pulls away this time, Eddie looks a little stunned. “I... like you too,” Richie says and it doesn’t feel like enough. “I love you, Eds, always have,” he added softly.
“Holy shit,” Eddie says and Richie smiles lopsidedly again. “Holy shit, we should have done that way sooner. We’re both fucking idiots!”
Richie’s smile falters. Yeah, maybe they could have. Maybe things would have been different, but Eddie was still leaving. He’d still be leaving and Richie doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do without Eddie.
“What happened? Why are you leaving?” Richie asks finally.
“I don’t know. Mom’s just been getting more and more paranoid lately. She’s been saying all this weird shit about Derry and saying how we need to leave but I thought she’d get over it or something but she had some cousin in New York, and she just said we’re leaving and the whole house was basically packed up when I get home,” Eddie says, talking progressively faster until Richie is worried he’s going to induce a panic attack.
Richie pulls him in for a hug. “When?” It’s the only word he can get through his throat that’s closing rapidly.
Eddie pulls back, looking Richie in the eyes with a heartbreaking look. “Tonight,” he says, barely above a whisper.
And Richie had been bracing himself for this month, this week, but tonight? He pictures Eddie’s mom packing final boxes in the car, dragging Eddie out of the house, and Eddie running off to find Richie.
He pulls Eddie back into the hug because he can’t think of anything else to say or do. He closes his eyes, fighting off the tears as hard as he can. He wants to be strong for Eddie. He wants to remember how it feels to hold onto him. His best friend. His first and only love in his short life. Richie doesn’t think there’s a single other person he cares about as much as this boy in his arms right now.
Sorry mom and dad, he thinks, but it’s Eddie.
Headlights flash outside the house and a car horn blares.
Richie feels Eddie tense up, and he pulls away again, looking panicked.
“You gotta go, Eds,” Richie says even though it’s the last thing he wants. He wants to hide Eddie away and tell Mrs. K to fuck off, but he knows that won’t work.
“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m going to find you again, Richard.”
“This won’t be the last you see of me, Eduardo.” Richie gives him a soft smile when there’s a knock on his door.
“Richie,” his mother calls before coming in. She sees Eddie and isn’t exactly surprised. “Eddie, your mother is downstairs. She’s not very happy.”
Eddie just nods, sucking in his lip trying not to cry.
“I’ll be right here,” Richie says to Eddie. “You know where to find me.”
Eddie just nods and Richie takes Eddie’s hand. He pulls him off the bed and takes him downstairs. And his mom goes outside to talk to Mrs. K and Richie gives Eddie one last kiss while they’re hidden behind the front door, before Eddie heads outside and gets in the car.
It’s gone too quickly.
“What was that about?” Richie’s mom asks him. “Are you crying? Oh sweetie.”
And Richie hadn’t noticed but yeah he is. And his mother hugs him and it’s like the last straw on the camel’s back. The dam holding everything back finally cracks and breaks and his body is racked with heaving sobs and his mother has never seen him like this, and will never again. Richie feels like he just might die... but he doesn’t. He’ll live because Eddie needs to find him. When they’re older, when he can get away from his mother.
~*~
I’m not going anywhere. Who do I think I’m kidding? I’m still standing in the same place where you left me standing. I am easy to find.
~*~
Eddie Kaspbrak is a bastard.
Eddie forgot about Richie.
Eddie never called, never wrote.
Richie goes through the steps. Depression and anger and denial, and repeats them until he hits some version of acceptance. He still has his bad days. He thinks Eddie knows, he must know, that Richie is here and waiting for him. The doubt creeps in and tells him Eddie doesn’t want to come back, never wanted to be with Richie or he wouldn’t have left. On his good days, he helps Mike with research.
Mike worries him, with his obsessing. Richie would rather not think about It and that horrible summer. But they’re the only ones left who know about it. All their friends have gone and moved away and here they are still in Derry.
Richie’s grown up and makes himself a decent life in Derry. He doesn’t even think about Eddie most of the time. A childhood crush. Sure, he’s never really had interest in anyone else since then, but he doesn’t think it’s related. He doesn’t think about Eddie. Until Mike hands him a piece of paper.
The internet was a pretty wild invention. Mike is convinced the clown isn’t dead, that It’ll be back. Richie likes to think It’s gone, doesn’t know how to begin to deal with the idea that It isn’t. 27 Years feels like a ticking clock, too far away to worry about at first but suddenly creeping closer and closer. Mike’s searching for everyone, trying to find their information so when the time comes, he’s ready to bring them all back. He explains this to Richie who’s only half listening because he’s holding a piece of paper with Eddie’s name and a phone number and an address and he doesn’t know what to do with it even a little.
What if Eddie doesn’t want to be found? What if he doesn’t want to hear from Richie? What if he knew what he was doing all those years ago? But what if he didn’t?
What if Richie was holding onto this stupid childhood thing and Eddie laughed that he would still be hung up on it after all this time? What if Richie had just made it all up?
His mind is racing.
“There’s one thing you should probably know about Eddie,” Mike says and that’s about the only thing that could have brought him out of the dark swirling thoughts in his head.
“He’s married. He has a wife.”
Richie crumples the paper in his hand, drops it on the floor.
“Like I care,” Richie says flippantly.
“Right,” Mike says. Richie’s never told him but it’s so evident that he knows. All the guys probably knew after having to deal with grumpy, asshole Richie for the weeks that followed Eddie’s sudden departure.
Richie leaves and continues Not Thinking About Eddie Fucking Kaspbrak.
~*~
“It’s back,” Mike says and Richie puts down the beer he was about to sip.
Mike’s brought a file folder to the bar. It should have tipped Richie off immediately but honestly when doesn’t Mike have a file folder with him?
Richie quickly does the mental math and, wow, 27 years sure flies by and he’s trying to think of some way to stay in denial, to tell Mike he’s wrong and paranoid, but Mike pulls out the articles and really he knows it, feels deep in his bones Mike is right. Still, he wants to argue just to be an asshole.
“God dammit,” he says instead.
“So you believe me?” Mike asks, surprised.
“Well, when have you ever been a wrong?”
And Richie wants to get fucked up. They’ll call their old friends tomorrow. Split it up between them and knows he’ll make Mike call Eddie.
He’s almost more afraid at the thought of seeing Eddie than having to deal with the fucking clown again.
He wonders if he’d rather be one of the people getting called up. At least he’s been here and it’s like the other shoe is finally dropping. Like he’s been waiting and looking over his shoulder constantly and it’s finally going to be over even if it’s because he’ll finally be dead.
But the others probably won’t see it coming. If Mike’s theories are right, they might not even remember anything. Richie wishes he could try that out, but something has always stopped him from leaving this town.
Maybe that’s what It wanted. To keep him here and torture him with not being able to forget, and with being forgotten.
Richie doesn’t get nearly hammered enough, but still suffers through a hangover the next day. He calls Stan and Bev while Mike calls Ben and Bill. Then there’s only Eddie and Richie says he’s taking a smoke break and Mike just sighs.
The calls weren’t easy but they were interesting. The way his name sounded familiar to them but not instantly recognizable. The way they couldn’t remember what happened in Derry, but were easy to convince that they had to return.
Richie takes a longer than usual smoke. He doesn’t want to risk over hearing any part of Mike talking to Eddie. The thought of it makes Richie sick and then he actually throws up, but that’s probably mostly the hangover and the prospect of fighting the interdimensional being again.
Mike and Richie get to the restaurant early. Richie is antsy and fidgety and feels sick but then Bev and Ben arrive and it’s a little like coming home even though he’s never left. Then Stan appears and Richie can’t help but giddily laugh, hearing about his life now.
They’re happy and Richie is making jokes like he hasn’t been able to in years.
And then Eddie walks in. And a rush of emotions pass through Richie. Eddie’s eyes search through the group and Mike is on him first, saying hello and wrapping him in a hug. Then Ben and Bev and Richie can’t move.
Eddie finally frees himself from the others and walks toward Richie.
Richie’s mind is racing, trying to think of a joke, trying to think of anything but he can’t process the man in front of him. He tries to swallow but his mouth is dry and Eddie is staring straight at him and walking toward him and when he gets close, he sees Eddie’s eyes are wet, brimming with tears and maybe Richie doesn’t need a joke but fuck if he knows what to say right now or what’s going through Eddie’s head.
“You waited?” Eddie asks quietly.
“And you finally found me,” Richie says trying to make light of it.
“I’m... I’m sorry,” Eddie says, enclosing Richie in a hug.
Richie is stunned, can’t feel his arms but then they’re wrapped around Eddie too. And he tucks his face into the corner of Eddie’s neck and his shoulder and takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Eddie pulls away, putting hands on either side of Richie’s face. “You look like shit,” he says with a laugh.
“Fuck you,” Richie says. And Eddie’s face turns serious again and he’s about to say something ¬when Bill walks in and the room erupts again and Eddie makes a gesture like they should go talk to him. But Richie doesn’t care, because he has a million questions still and he loves all of his friends, has missed them all if he’s being honest, but it’s Eddie he’s been waiting for, and Eddie who finally came back to him.
They talk all night and Richie feels drunk mostly from Eddie’s knee bumping into his, and not at all from the half beer he’s had.
And Ben is the one who asks why he can’t remember anything and Mike jumps into his explanation and Eddie squeezes Richie’s leg as if to apologize again, as if it say ‘see, it wasn’t my fault’ and Richie doesn’t know what to do with that.
And it’s not until much later that they finally get to talk. Richie and Mike go back to the townhouse with the group and the conversations continue until they finally taper off. And Mike leaves, asking if Richie is coming with him and Eddie answers for him.
“I think we still have some catching up to do,” he says and with that Mike smiles and leaves. And Eddie brings Richie up to his room. Richie still doesn’t know what to say. They’ve tried to act mostly normal all night and it was easy to fall into old habits and talk about the old times
As soon as the door is shut, Eddie has Richie backed up against it and is kissing him. And Richie feels like a younger version of himself and he’s frozen. He’s overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. He’s angry and hurt but also ridiculously happy because he wasn’t crazy and because it’s Eddie. It’s messy and way more intense than when they were kids. Eddie’s hand is wrapped up in Richie’s long hair and Richie just grabs what he can of Eddie for dear life. But it still feels all too much, like Richie might spontaneously combust.
“Stop, stop,” Richie says as he pushes Eddie away just enough to speak.
“I’m so sorry, Richie,” Eddie says right away. He rests his forehead against the door, beside Richie’s head. “I remembered… everything. As soon as I saw you.”
“It’s okay,” Richie says, even though he’s not sure if it is. “It’s not your fault. It’s that… thing. That fucking clown.”
Eddie pulls away, eyes searching over Richie’s face. “I shouldn’t have been able to forget about you. It shouldn’t have been so easy.”
“Easy,” Richie huffs. He pushes Eddie away softly, but with intent. He needs to get some space, some air to breathe. “Well, it hasn’t been easy for me.”
Eddie frowns. “I know.”
“You don’t know!” Richie says, louder than he means to. “It’s been…” he starts, but doesn’t know how to finish that sentence without sound dramatic. Has his life been total shit without Eddie? He hopes not, hopes it isn’t all worthless.
“You have a wife,” Richie says, only really remembering it now. The pain he’d felt when Mike had told him.
Eddie’s face falls. “I know,” he says darkly. Then with a bitter laugh adds, “I pretty much married my mom. Didn’t even realize that until I got back here either.”
Richie laughs too. Hundreds of jokes on the tip of his tongue, but he’s too tired.
“I think I just let it happen,” Eddie says, his voice sound far away, lost in thought. “Because I didn’t care. Maybe I knew it was pointless to look for anything better. Like leaving and forgetting left this hole, this void, I could never fill.”
That one hurts a little. Like maybe it wasn’t all that easy to be on the other side. Maybe Richie had been jealous of the others who got to forget for a moment, but he still thinks he’d rather be where he is.
“Okay,” Richie says.
Eddie gives him a confused look. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I forgive you. I’m over it. I mean the 27 years of anger and hurt and confusion was a little rough, but I’m bored of that,” Richie says with a shrug.
Eddie still looks confused, but he’s smiling cautiously. Richie moves toward him until he can press their foreheads together. “I fucking missed you,” he says quietly.
“Yeah, me too,” Eddie replies. And Richie knows it’s not in the same way but he believes that Eddie felt it on some level and that’s enough. So he kisses Eddie slowly and it shouldn’t feel as amazing as it does, but Richie feels like he could laugh or cry or who knows what, but Eddie’s hands are all over him and he’s waited way too fucking long for this. He guides Eddie over to the bed as they’re peeling clothes off and fumbling and laughing and kissing. And Richie thinks there’s a good chance they could die tomorrow or the next day so he’s going to enjoy this as much as he can, which really isn’t all that hard. Because it’s Eddie and he’s never felt so whole.
~*~
They kill It, finally. But it’s a close call. Eddie’s in the hospital with a huge fucking hole in his body and Richie won’t leave his side. Couldn’t if he tried. And the others take turns sitting with him, bringing him food, until finally Eddie wakes up.
“You piece of shit,” is the first thing Richie says to Eddie. It makes Eddie’s stomach hurt to laugh and Richie tells him he deserves it for scaring him so bad. Richie wants to cry but he’ll be strong for Eddie again, and if he cries later while hugging Beverly, no one else has to know.
And when Eddie is healed enough to leave the hospital, they head to New York. Leaving Derry feels like freedom to Richie. He squeezes Eddie’s hand too tight as the cross the city lines, but once they do, and nothing happens, Richie feels two decades of stress melt away from him. He’s not sure what the hell they’re going to do, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like just maybe it’ll all be fine.