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Eddie assumes Richie will think it’s funny, because he’s Richie. He’s made up a thousand games to torment all of them, including himself, so he assumes it’ll be hilarious to him. It’s not even Eddie who starts it, either, it’s Bill, and he actually suggests they do it to Stan, but Eddie worries that Stan might think they’re actually mad. Richie’s pretty much perfect for it, since everything rolls off his back like water off a duck.
“You really th-thuh— fuck.” Bill takes a breath. “Think so?”
“Yeah, he once played a game called how many worms can Eddie catch,” Eddie reminds him.
“The answer was none,” Beverly helpfully adds.
“Because worms are disgusting and I would never willingly lay my hands on one, but that’s not the fucking point,” Eddie says. “Richie’s not gonna care.”
“If you’re sure,” Ben says. “You’ve known him the longest.”
Eddie’s not totally sure, but also, it’s just a game. Even if it isn’t fun, it’s Richie. He’ll understand that it’s just a game and forgive them, so it’s fine either way.
Mike and Stan show up almost simultaneously at the Barrens, and Bill fills them in on the game.
“Why Richie?” Stan asks, kicking his kickstand down so his bike won’t fall. Mike watches him, then pulls his back up next to his and does the same.
“Because Eddie wouldn’t l-l-let us do it to yuh-you,” Bill says. Stan thumps him on the arm.
“You’re all such fuckheads,” Stan tells them, but he agrees to do it anyways, just to see what happens. In true chaotic neutral fashion, Eddie thinks, and wonders if Richie’s not kidding when he calls them nerds.
Richie’s the last one to show up, throwing his bike down next to Stan’s and running to join them at the edge of the water. He kicks his shoes and socks off and rolls up the bottoms of his pants before he hits the rocky sand next to Eddie and plops down. He shouts, “Hey, guys! What’re you up to?” but nobody responds. He looks to Eddie, but Eddie just keeps looking out at the water like nothing’s happening. Richie frowns, then looks towards Bill instead.
Eddie takes the opportunity to look away towards Ben and the book in his hands so he won’t accidentally laugh and give the game away. Ben’s reading quietly to himself, so Eddie leans over and asks, “What’s this about?”
“Oh, it’s, uhh— It’s called The House on Mango Street,” Ben says, and launches into an explanation of the book that Eddie only half-listens to, because he’s also monitoring Richie. He’s pivoted away from Eddie and towards Bill and Stan, who are doing just as well as Ben is. Eddie looks to Beverly, who waves at him and smiles behind her hand when Richie looks to her.
“Well, fine,” Richie says, getting up and dusting himself off. “If you dickheads are mad at me, you let me know when you man up and tell me. Until then, go fuck yourselves.”
He jogs away, grabbing his socks and shoes and tugging them back on as he goes. He drags his bike up and pedals away the same way he came. Eddie looks to Bill; they both laugh.
“I can’t believe he gave up so fast,” Stan says, puzzled, smiling. “We barely got to do anything.”
“We can always try again later,” Beverly suggests.
“Should we tell him we’re not actually mad at him?” Ben asks worriedly. “I mean— I don’t want him to think we’re mad at him.”
“He’ll know we’re not mad,” Mike says. Eddie isn’t totally sure he believes him, but it’s Mike, so he goes with it.
It doesn’t stop him from being a little nervous when they ride into town and Richie’s in the arcade. He’s playing with some other kid on the machine, and he looks up as they go and waves. Eddie acts like he doesn’t even see him; he doesn’t even look away, just tries his best to look through him before turning his attention back to the road in front of them.
“Good job,” Beverly says as they keep heading towards the ice cream parlor. Eddie’s not sure why he’s starting to feel a little weird about it, but he is. Maybe it’s the look on Richie’s face that he caught just the last glimpse of, a confused expression, pretty unlike Richie’s usual expressions when he sees them. It lingers in the back of his mind as they get cones, and he almost gets two before he remembers the game again.
“So… I shouldn’t get Richie ice cream,” Eddie says hesitantly, more a question than a statement.
“No, moron,” Stan says. “That’s the opposite of the game. I thought this was your idea.”
“This was Bill’s idea,” Eddie exclaims, pointing back towards Bill, who stops midway through nibbling on the edge of his cone to frown at them. The bell above the door to the parlor rings.
“Hey, guys, what the fuck?” Richie shouts at them. Eddie just barely stops himself from instinctively turning towards him at the sound of his voice, instead just focusing on Stan.
“So, what do I get, then? Mint?” he asks, just because he knows Richie hates mint and so he probably won’t try to approach him and lick it.
“If you want,” Stan says. He skims the flavors, then says, “Peanut butter?”
“Don’t be dumb, Stan, he could’ve developed a nut allergy overnight,” Richie says. Eddie looks over the menu again, then orders one mint cone without acknowledging Richie. He hears him get closer until he’s leaning against the counter next to him. “Hello? Earth to Eddie? What the fuck’s up with you, man, what’d I do to piss you off so bad?”
Eddie walks right past him. It doesn’t feel right, when he does it, so he’s not surprised when Richie tries to grab his arm. His hand slips right out of Richie’s, and he keeps going until he gets to Beverly at the end of the counter where she’s waiting for her ice cream. Her eyes flick over his shoulder, then back to his face.
“He looks kinda upset,” Beverly says, and Eddie knows he shouldn’t turn around, because it’ll give away the game, but he’s already starting to.
He’s saved by Richie pushing away from the counter and shouting over to Bill, “Hey, Big Bill, what the fuck’d I do to piss Eds off so bad?”
Bill doesn’t respond, either. Eddie takes the opportunity to lean back against the counter himself and casually watch in Richie’s direction. Richie bounds up to Mike, but Mike doesn’t acknowledge him at all. Eddie’d be impressed, if Richie’s whole face didn’t fall when he turned around. They locked eyes, just for a second, before Eddie looked down. He felt his cheeks burn, but he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to call the game off, but he also didn’t want think Bill to think he was a pussy, so he was caught.
“Okay, I don’t know what the fuck I did,” Richie says, his voice breaking. The ice cream parlor goes a little quiet as he raises his voice. “But— Whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry, alright, just stop ignoring me, please. I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry.”
For a second, nobody says anything. The silence is fucking unbearable, and Eddie’s just starting to lift his head to break it when Richie makes a frustrated sound and yanks the front door to the parlor open and runs outside. Eddie looks over to Beverly, then back to Bill.
“I think we fucked up,” Beverly says softly. Eddie takes off without his ice cream cone, running out after Richie only to find that he’s already halfway down the street on his bike.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eddie shrieks, sprinting back towards his bike. He hops on and almost forgets to kick the kickstand back up before he’s taking off down the street as fast as his legs can pedal. He can’t get the look on Richie’s face out of his mind, or the way his voice broke, and the fact that it’s his fault, that he did this and he didn’t realize soon enough that it was upsetting him, and that he has no idea why Richie’s responding so strongly, he just— He doesn’t fully understand. He just knows something’s wrong.
Bill catches up to him first on Silver.
“We fuh-fucked up,” Bill shouts to him.
“Yeah, you fucking think?” Eddie snaps back. He can still see Richie, so he pedals faster, harder, trying to catch up and unable to get all the way there. Bill’s right behind him, but Eddie’s going too fast to talk to him anymore, breath wheezing out of his throat as he bikes. He follows him all the way back to the Barrens, and Richie throws his bike down a few yards from the Clubhouse and turns on them.
“Enough, okay? Enough,” he screams at them. “If you’re going to ignore me, fucking ignore me, don’t fucking— follow me, fuck off!”
“Richie, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says breathlessly. He comes to a stop and drops his bike down before yanking his inhaler out of his fanny pack and shoving it in his mouth.
“We didn’t muh-mean it,” Bill tells him. “R-R-Really. We didn’t.”
“Why the fuck would you do this?” Richie asks, his breath hitching, and Eddie looks worriedly to Bill. Richie’s only cried in front of them, like, a handful of times, and never like this. He looks over his shoulder, then back to them and says, “You know what, never mind, fuck this. I’m not gonna— gonna fucking be around people who don’t wanna be around me, it’s just as bad as staying at home.”
He grabs his bike by the handlebars and pulls it back upright, making to shove off with it, but Eddie runs forward and grabs his sleeve. Richie yanks his hand away from him and whirls around.
“Why?” Richie asks tearfully. Eddie shakes his head.
“It was a game,” he says desperately. “It was just a game, Richie. Bill’s cousin played it with him, you just— you pretend someone’s invisible. That’s it.”
Richie stares at him with red eyes. When he blinks, tears stream down his face. He turns away, rubbing at his face with his sleeves.
“You’re such fucking assholes,” Richie spits. “A fucking game? You abandoned me over some fucking—” Richie stops, then shakes his head, still looking away. “Go fuck yourselves.”
“Richie—” Eddie starts to say, but Richie turns back to him with this anguished look on his face, and he stops.
“What?” Richie asks.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says softly. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” He can feel the back of his eyes prickling, his nose burning like he’s gonna cry, too. Richie stares back at him, the two of them silent for a moment. “Richie, I’m sorry.”
Richie looks him over, then shifts his attention over Eddie’s shoulder to Bill, presumably. He hears another bike hit the ground, then another, then another. Richie looks almost startled, like a deer caught in headlights, and he looks back to Eddie again.
“You’re just as bad as they are,” Richie says, before hopping back on his bike and pedaling away. Eddie can’t figure out what the fuck Richie means by that, and he’s just left standing, almost-crying, confused.
“What did he say?” Mike asks, jogging up beside him. Eddie’s still staring after the spot where Richie disappeared beyond the trees.
“He said, ‘You’re just as bad as they are,’” Eddie says, and he realizes his hands are shaking. He looks at Mike.
“As who?” Mike asks. “As us? As who?”
“B-Bowers?” Bill asks, and Eddie feels like all the blood drains from his body.
“Where did he go?” Ben asks as soon as he catches up.
“Probably went home,” Stan says. “Where else would he go?”
Eddie’s not sure, but he wants to look, so they do. They all split off to try and find him, and Eddie’s in charge of the route near his house. His heart’s pounding as he goes, and he almost crashes his bike more than once when he’s not paying the adequate amount of attention. He finds he doesn’t care, because he’s just trying to find Richie and his brain doesn’t have the space for anything else right now.
He’s about to cross the Kissing Bridge when he notices someone’s there. He starts to slow down, then realizes he knows that shape and comes to an abrupt stop, his brakes squealing as he does. He throws his bike down and runs over, and Richie jerks away when he sees him, moving to get up and grab his own bike up again.
“Richie, please,” Eddie says, and Richie stops, just for a moment. Eddie catches up and takes his hand. Richie twitches away, but Eddie just tightens his grip and holds on. Richie turns back to him.
“What?” he says softly. He doesn’t sound angry anymore, just sad and resigned, which is somehow worse, to Eddie. “What could you fucking possibly wanna say to me, Eddie?”
“I’m so sorry,” Eddie says. “I’m so, so sorry, Richie. I didn’t know you’d be so upset, I thought you’d just laugh about it.”
Richie turns back to him, finally pulling his hand free of Eddie’s. “Right, yeah, makes sense. That’s Richie! That’s Trashmouth, we don’t really like him, we like to play games where we pretend he doesn’t even exist just for fun! It’s easy to— to abandon him because we don’t— we don’t really love him, it’s easy to say you do—”
“Richie,” Eddie says desperately, “it’s not that, it’s not, I swear—”
“But it is,” Richie tells him, so broken it hurts. Eddie reaches out and pulls Richie in, hugs him as tight as he can. Richie’s hands are balled up and caught between their chests as he sobs into Eddie’s shoulder, a coiled, tense spring waiting to snap. Eddie fists his hands in the back of Richie’s shirt, and he feels Richie’s fingers tentatively twist into the front of Eddie’s shirt in response. He starts rubbing Richie’s back.
“I promise,” Eddie tells him. “It was just a game. Just a stupid, stupid game, Rich. If I knew, we’d— We’d never—”
“But you did,” Richie says. “You did. You’re just like they are, you— you say you like me and then all of a sudden you don’t, and you just— you aren’t there, and— and— fuck,” he says, his voice breaking as he tries to push away from Eddie, but Eddie holds him tighter. “Let me go, Eds.”
“No,” Eddie tells him firmly.
“Eddie Kaspbrak, you let me go—”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Eddie says. Richie squirms again, trying to escape, but Eddie just twists him around until they’re looking at each other. “Richie, talk to me—”
“Fuck you,” Richie spits. “You can’t not talk to me and then demand that I talk to you—”
“Richie, for the love of fuck—”
“My parents do the—” Richie starts to say, then stops. Eddie hesitates, then pulls back to look into Richie’s face. Richie looks down, still crying, and Eddie lets him if it means he’ll keep talking. After a long moment, he says, “My parents did the same thing. My mom wouldn’t talk to me, and my dad—” He shakes his head, then looks away, rubbing at his face. “Hey, fuck this, right? This is— This is dumb, I don’t—”
“What?” Eddie says. “No, Richie, what are they— What’d they do? Why didn’t you tell us?”
Richie still doesn’t look at him. “Tell you what?”
“Your parents are ignoring you,” Eddie says. “That’s not normal, Rich.”
Richie laughs, but it’s not funny. It’s bitter and sad and Eddie hates it. He hates it so much, he never wants to hear it again.
“No shit, it’s not normal,” Richie says. “But what the fuck am I gonna say? My dad just… he doesn’t look at me, for the most part. It’s fine, you know? We don’t get along. And my mom… I haven’t seen my mom in like. I don’t know, a little while. I don’t know where she goes.”
“Richie—”
“And my dad,” Richie continues, like the words have started spilling out of his mouth and he’s helpless to stop it, tears streaming down his face as he says, “he— I know he hates me, he hates me, whenever I try to talk to him he just— he’ll just ignore me, or, or he’ll hit me, but he just— He’s just shoving me around a little bit, and it’s fine, but I don’t—” Richie’s voice breaks on a sob, and he shakes his head, so Eddie yanks him in and holds Richie’s shoulders so tightly he feels like they both might just break in half.
“It’s going to be okay,” Eddie says. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re never gonna do that to you, okay?”
“Please don’t leave me,” Richie whispers into his shoulder, and Eddie starts crying, too. “Please don’t leave me, Eddie, I can’t— I can’t deal with it, if you leave me, too, Eddie—”
“We’re never gonna leave you, Richie,” Eddie promises. “I swear. None of us. I could never forget you, Richie.”
Richie shakes his head, starts to pull away, but Eddie won’t let him. He can’t, he can’t just let him go after all that. He has to do something, and Richie’s face is right there, bowed over Eddie’s, and he looks so sad and so solemn, and Eddie loves him so much, he just wants him to feel better. He looks over his shoulder, makes absolutely certain that there’s nobody there, and then turns back around to duck in and press a kiss to Richie’s lips.
Richie backs away, startled, his hand flying up over his mouth. He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes again, and says, “Eddie, if—” He stops, then covers his face with both hands. Eddie didn’t realize how big his hands had gotten, and it makes him feel strangely warm. Richie exhales slowly, a shuddering breath. “I can’t. We can’t, Eddie. I’m not allowed.”
“Not allowed to what, Richie?” Eddie asks quietly.
“To want you,” Richie says. “To want this, that’s why— That’s why, right? Because I’m— wrong, and f-fucked up, and—”
“Richie, no,” Eddie tells him. “You’re not—”
“Boys can’t like boys,” Richie screams at him. Eddie pulls him in to kiss again, and Richie jerks before stopping, letting Eddie kiss him for two beats of his heart before he starts kissing back. Eddie fists his hand in the front of Richie’s shirt and kisses him harder for it. Richie’s hands settle on Eddie’s hips, tugging him in until they were pressed against each other and Eddie’s back had to bow up as he stretched up on his toes to kiss him properly. Richie breaks the kiss, hoists him up so he’s sitting on the railing of the Kissing Bridge, and Eddie has to duck his head down to kiss Richie now. Richie scoots in between Eddie’s spread knees and lets Eddie kiss him again, then again, before Eddie pulls back.
“You can stay with me,” Eddie tells him. Richie shakes his head and starts to look away, but Eddie catches his chin and turns his face back, looking down at him. “I’m not letting you go back there. If you don’t want to stay with me, you’ll stay with Bill, or Stan, or Bev, or— fuck, I know Ben or Mike would let you, too. Ben’s got that cot, and his mom’s so nice—”
“I can’t just leave,” Richie says. “I’m sixteen, what the fuck am I going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie tells him honestly. “Rich, I don’t know, but you can’t live like this.”
“I just— I don’t want to be alone,” Richie confesses. “If we— If I have to leave home, they might send me somewhere else where I won’t have any friends and you guys will all forget about me and I’m never going to see any of you ever again—”
“Richie, that’s not gonna happen,” Eddie tells him. “I swear to you, I will never leave you. I could never. None of us could ever, Richie, it would never happen. I promise. I promise.”
Richie looks up at him, head tipped back to make eye contact with Eddie above him. Eddie runs his fingers through Richie’s hair, pushing it back behind his ears.
“Eds,” Richie says softly. “Please don’t— Don’t forget about me.”
Eddie shakes his head, then kisses Richie on the forehead. “I will never forget about you. I will never forget you, Richie.” He tips Richie’s face up and kisses him again, whispers, “I will never forget you,” against his lips.
“I’m sorry,” Richie tells him, once they break apart again. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to—”
“I want to,” Eddie says. “Stop that, I want to. Richie, I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me everything.”
Richie opens his mouth to respond, but they can hear bicycle wheels kicking up loose dirt and pebbles down the way, so they break apart completely. Richie trips back a couple steps while Eddie hops down and shuffles in the opposite direction, hands tightly gripping the wood of the bridge behind him.
It turns out to be Bill and Stan, so he’s glad they separated as they come to a screeching halt on their bikes. Stan kicks his kickstand down, so he takes a couple seconds longer than Bill to reach them.
“Richie, w-w-we’re so s-s-s-s—”
“Save your breath, Big Bill, it’s fine,” Richie says. “Eds explained everything, it’s fine, you dumb shits.”
“We didn’t know it’d upset you so much,” Stan tells him softly. Eddie looks to Richie, nodding. Richie huffs, looking away, but then he turns back to Stan and Bill in the next moment.
“I think my mom left,” Richie says. Stan’s eyes widen; Bill looks nervously to Eddie. “And my dad— my dad’s the one who broke my collarbone that one time.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie demands.
“Please move in with me,” Stan says without hesitation. “I’m so sorry, Richie, I didn’t know, I would’ve said—”
“Sorry,” Bill finally manages. He looks near tears. Eddie turns when he hears another bicycle, and then Ben’s hurtling at them, grabbing Richie and hugging him.
“Richie, I’m so sorry, I’m never gonna ignore you again ever, you’re one of my best friends and I love you so much,” Ben tells him, faster than Eddie’s ever heard him talk. Richie hugs him back with a wet laugh.
“It’s okay, Haystack, I forgive you,” Richie says. “I’m gonna wait ‘til Bev and Mike got here, I don’t wanna repeat myself a hundred fucking times—”
“About what?” Ben asks, as Beverly and Mike start pedaling at them, abandoning their bikes next to Ben’s and running to join them. Seeing Ben hugging Richie, Beverly collides with them, wrapping her arms around them both. Mike hangs back a little until Richie looks up at him and reaches a hand out, and Mike folds into the hug, too.
“My parents are shitty,” Richie says. “My dad hits me and my mom— uh, she might’ve left, and I don’t really know what to do about it. That’s all.”
Beverly starts crying, says, “Richie, I didn’t know—” just as Ben says, “You can stay at my place. My mom always says that anyone can come and stay if they need to, she told me. You can come stay with me, Rich.”
Richie starts to answer, then starts crying again himself. Mike rubs his back, says, “It’s gonna be okay, Richie. You’re okay, man—” and Richie cries harder.
“I’m so sorry,” Richie says, and Eddie shoves himself in between Bev and Mike to get in closer to Richie, to hold his face in his hands and trust that the shield their friends are making is enough to protect them from the eyes of any passersby as he looks him in the eyes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Eddie tells him.
“N-Nothing,” Bill seconds.
“We won’t do it again, okay?” Eddie says.
“We love you,” Ben adds.
"So much," Mike says. "So much, Richie, it's insane."
“And we’re not gonna abandon you,” Stan says, “not ever.”
Beverly squeezes Richie’s upper arm. “Richie, you’re our best friend. I won’t let you leave us.”
Richie sobs, shakes his head. Eddie pulls him in again, and Richie hugs him without hesitation this time, burying his face in Eddie’s hair, then bowing down over him to hide his face in his shoulder instead.
“You can come home with me,” Ben says again, and Richie nods.
“Okay,” Richie whispers. He laughs, and it’s almost real again. “Jeez, if you wanted me in your bed, Handsome Hanscom, all you had to do was ask—”
“You found me out,” Ben says. “‘It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you, tied in your mouth, in mine it begins to be loosen’d.’” Richie frowns at him, and Ben says, “That’s Walt Whitman.”
“You’re such a fucking nerd,” Richie groans. “Please don’t recite poetry to me at night, I think I’d have to start bullying us ourselves if we did that—”
“‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’” Ben asks, and Richie folds into the warmth of them all, diving into the center of them so they can wrap themselves around him. Eddie finds himself pressed up against Richie’s chest, and he kisses his shoulder when he feels like nobody can see.
“We love you,” Eddie says. “I love you, Richie.”
Richie looks down at him. “I love you, too.”
“I love you, R-Rich,” Bill adds, and everyone’s voices mingle at once as they rush to tell Richie they love him, too. Richie smiles at Eddie, then buries his face in his hair again, folded safely into his friends.