Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Eddie— Eds! Don’t you fucking— just hang on—!”

“Eddie- listen to me- stay awake—“

“Eddie—?!”

“Eddie!”

“Eddie. What the fuck, man, you Okay?”

Eddie opened his eyes finally; the bright light was jarring and sent a stabbing pain straight through his skull. He grimaced, squinting his eyes closed as he adjusted to the daylight streaming through the trees. Part of him had expected it to be dark, but he wasn’t entirely sure why.

He must be laying on a rock, because there was a stabbing pain against the middle of his back, and the unpleasant pressure of the handle of his bike crammed against his chest.

Richie’s stupid face came into view next, his hair long and wild and thick glasses magnifying his eyes. 

“Ow- fuck—…” Eddie hissed, trying to push the bike off himself with the other boy’s assistance. “What the fuck happened?”

“I said you were too much of a pussy to jump your bike off the rock, so you did it and then ate major shit.” Richie stood the bike up, then reached down and grasped Eddie’s hand, pulling the smaller boy to his feet.

Eddie was frowning in confusion, looking around at the forest. For the life of him he couldn’t remember getting here- or most of the day, actually. Maybe he had hit his head a little harder than he thought. He looked down at himself, at his shorts and fanny pack. For a moment his cheek stung sharply, but after he worked his jaw it slowly subsided.

“You good?” Richie was still holding onto him for the moment, reaching up and ruffling Eddie’s hair to get the twigs out.

“Gah—! Hey! Yeah, I’m fucking fine— “ Eddie made a few blind swats at his hand, then tried to smooth his hair out again.

Richie looked exactly like he did when they were in their middle teens. He looked like he did when they were sixteen and Richie grew his hair out. He knew that Space Invaders tee and that fucking awful Hawaiian shirt over it.

Eddie frowned a little more, mostly to himself.

That’s because they were sixteen. What a weird thought that was. Why wouldn’t they be sixteen?

“Hello? Hello? Did you hit your fucking head? Please tell me no, ‘cause I really don’t want to deal with a concussion right now.” Richie was snapping his fingers in Eddie’s face, drawing him back to the moment. The sound distorted and echoed briefly, but Eddie chalked it up to the fall.

“I think I did hit my head. You sound more annoying than usual.” Eddie shoved at him, stepping around to get his bike.

“I’m not annoying. I’m just loud and demand your attention, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie had that shit eating grin on his face, the one that did something funny to his stomach and he couldn’t place why. Eddie put his hand on the handle of his bike and—

They were out on the neighborhood street, taking the familiar and gut churning way back to Eddie’s house. He wasn’t exactly sure when they got there or how, but he was pushing his bike and Richie was too.

Eddie came to a sudden halt, panic squeezing tight in his chest as he sucked in a breath.

“Richie—fuck, Rich, I think I have a concussion?! When did we get here I don’t remember—fuck I don’t remember—” The breath he sucked in was sharp and quick, dropping his bike with a clatter and fumbling for his fanny pack.

Did he even have the fanny pack when he was sixteen? He must have- because he was sixteen right now and he had it. He was sixteen and in Derry, out with just Richie because the other Losers were…busy. Yes. That was it. That was why they were nowhere to be seen. No Bill, no Mike, no Stan, no Ben—Beverly had already moved away. He got his shaking hands around the inhaler, yanking it out quickly and putting it to his lips.

“Eddie! Eddie- hey.” Richie was in front of him now, having dropped his bike in turn and reached out to pull Eddie’s hands away from his mouth. “You don’t have a concussion. We just walked out of the woods and now we’re walking home. You asked me to walk you home, remember? Don’t fucking lose it on me now, Eds. I need you to stay with me—”

“What?” Eddie was still gripping the inhaler tight; his heart was hammering in his chest and his—his back hurt, straight through to the front. Fuck it hurt.

“Stay with me. Don’t fucking panic, you little shit.” Richie was holding his shoulders tighter now, studying Eddie’s face in a way that made him more concerned.

Like he may lose him.

There was beeping coming from somewhere, muffled and unclear. Eddie breathed in another shuddering breath- then started hyperventilating once more.

“That sound—what the fuck—what the fuck is that sound--?” He was screeching and he knew it, his voice pitched higher in his panic. Chaos in his mind and chest that was completely uncalled for. He was panicking, he was slipping, and he wasn’t sure why.

Eddie looked up at the sky frantically, at the empty Derry streets, trying to piece together the phantom noise. It was getting louder—and louder—

Suddenly, Richie spun him around, pulling Eddie back against his chest and placing two hands firmly over his heart. “Breathe with me, Eds, okay? Just fucking breathe with me—”

He sounded like Richie and yet he didn’t, like a distorted off kilter version- static on a radio out of range. That couldn’t be right though because this was Richie, and this was Derry, and they were fine. If only that beeping would just stop, he could think this through.

Eddie tried to match his breath to the slow rise and fall of Richie’s chest behind him. He fought just a little bit to not melt into him too much, like a need he didn’t realize he had before. That he just wanted to fall into Richie, be engulfed by Richie, drown in Richie—stay with Richie. Just stay. However he could, however he needed to.

“You’re gonna stay but you need to trust me—” Richie was saying in his ear, the beeping continued—and a muffled sound came from the sky before Richie’s two hands shoved against his chest hard and Eddie jolted.

“Ow—Rich, what the fuck, dude!” His breath stuttered, because that hurt more than he thought it would. His heart was pounding harder in his chest, like it was about to explode. He could feel it.

“Eddie, trust me- just breathe.”

Eddie did trust him. He trusted Richie more than anything in this world. More than his mother, more than the other boys- even a little more than Beverly, which was saying a lot.

He closed his eyes and focused, standing there for what felt like an eternity pressed back against Richie Tozier, breathing slowly.

It subsided, the panic and the beeping. Now it was just a steady, rhythmic pace. A little louder and a little closer.

“Your dumbass watch, dipshit.” Richie murmured, slowly letting him go.

Eddie blinked quickly as he came to, looking down at his wrist. His watch was beeping- but not the alert tone he remembered. It was steady.

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

He frowned and clicked it off. It must be running out of battery or something. Eddie automatically reached for his fanny pack to pull out his pill box.

“Let’s get you home before your mom loses her shit. How is my lovely, Ms. K anyways? You know, maybe I should surprise her with my massive—”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Eddie laughed a little, popping the pills into his mouth.

Huh.

Beep beep.

—
 

They had to resuscitate Eddie.

It was an image he would never get out of his head. The sound—the blood, some of which was still on himself. Watching Eddie’s lifeless body and praying to anyone that would listen that they wouldn’t take Eddie.

Fucking Eddie.

Eddie fucking Kaspbrack.

With his dumbass medical paranoia, his nonexistent allergies, his useless facts, and his anxious pacing.

Eddie Kaspbrack with Richie’s heart in his hands.

Bill had called the ambulance the second they could after dragging him out of that fucking hell hole. Thank god for waterproof phones. Eddie had been fading, but Richie refused to believe it. By the time they arrived it had almost been too late, nearly too late.

Almost—but not quite.

So, he had watched, sick to his stomach as Beverly held onto him in a weak attempt to keep him at bay. Watched as they ripped his shirt open and packed the wound—watched as his heart suddenly gave out and Richie felt his own go with it.

When his heart had started back up Richie nearly cried with relief- or maybe he had already been crying. His cheeks were wet, but so was his everything. They had pulled Eddie through the water to get him out and he hadn’t really been thinking.

Ben was giving the doctors a story about what had happened- saying the house had collapsed on them which wasn’t far from the truth.

It was no question for Richie to ride with him to the hospital. He was placed up front in the ambulance, stunned but unwilling to leave Eddie’s side. Sitting in the back with him was not an option, apparently. According to the EMTs he would just get in the way if his heart gave out again. The thought made his stomach churn again and he very nearly threw up.

Bev had said something about meeting them there, but he had only been half paying attention.

“Stay with me, you little shit.” Richie whispered to himself, holding his jeans in tight fists and trying not to focus on the blood. “Fucking stay with me. I’m not fucking losing you now.”

He listened to the sound from the back. The steady tone that was telling him that Eddie was still here. That he still had a chance.

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

—
 

Eddie woke up in his bedroom, just lying there for a long while and staring at the ceiling. It was the next morning, or so it had to be. He couldn’t quite remember getting there no matter how hard he wracked his mind.

He remembered Richie, and Richie’s hands against his chest. The strange beeping, though that seemed far away now. There had been that pain, phantom yet somehow real in him—surrounding him.

After that, nothing.

There was no memory of entering his house and saying hello to mother. No putting up with her fussing or medicines being thrown at him. No heavy debate of telling her what was going on and if it was worth the risk of the emergency room trip. Weighing the pros and cons of dealing with the x-rays and mother insisting something was wrong when the doctor’s said nothing.

It felt like something he should remember happening, something that should have happened but didn’t.

No memory of getting ready for bed or even falling asleep.

He had just woken up around six in the morning, or so his alarm clock said. The sun was starting to rise slowly, enough to just dimly light the bedroom. His bedroom.

It looked like his bedroom, really it did. There was something off about it though, like he was fighting to remember what it looked like at this age.

Eddie laid there, getting wrapped up in the confusion of his own scrambled brain when there was a tapping against the window. Like a knock.

With a frown, he sat up, pushing the sheets off of himself and looking to the window. Richie opened it up without waiting for an invite, the asshole, and promptly untangled his lanky body from the tree outside and deposited himself on the carpet.

(When had he had a tree conveniently next to his window? Hadn’t mom had it removed? He had fallen out of it once when he was five and within a few days it was gone.)

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Eddie snapped, feeling a little self-conscious in his dinosaur print pajama pants and old, large ABBA t-shirt.

“Visiting the fair princess in her tower.” Richie shot back, shaking his long hair out of his face. It looked longer now- like it did at the end of their senior year when Eddie could remember the dread of their lives going separate ways. None of them saying anything and just…drifting.

“Fuck you.” Eddie pulled a face, promptly sitting back on the bed and folding his arms over his chest. He scowled, watching Richie shut the window and cross over to him, the bed dipping under his weight as he sat. “It’s before dawn. I didn’t even know you existed before then.”

“I do when I want to, and right now I want to. Besides, someone needs me.” Richie shrugged, brushing his wild hair back again. It had been so curly then, Eddie honestly loved it.

Not like he would ever admit that.

The second part of Richie’s sentence finally clicked. Eddie frowned a little, his arms no longer crossed as stubbornly as before, they sagged a little and came to rest in his lap instead.

“What is that supposed to mean? Who needs you?” He asked, ignoring the pit of jealously forming that maybe there was someone else in Richie’s life that he would wake up before dawn for. Eddie placed his hands on the bed and shifted to face him a little more.

To his surprise, Richie laid one of his hands over his own. It only took a second for his heartrate to kick up.

“You need me.” Richie murmured, once again not sounding entirely like himself but sounding just right. He sounded sad, he sounded distant, but the tone of voice did not match the bright, joking grin on his face. “And I fucking need you, asshole.”

“I…” Eddie looked down at their hands, his heart in his throat. He turned his own over beneath Richie’s with more effort than he thought was needed and squeezed gently. “….Okay. Are you just gonna stay here with me then?”

Eddie shifted over, making room on the bed.  

The relief on Richie’s face was worth a million lifetimes of this mind-numbing confusion, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He took the space offered to him, laying down carefully, his feet hanging off the end of the bed.

“You’re a fucking giant.” Eddie muttered, tucking up without much thought and draping an arm over his best friend.

“Maybe you’re just fucking tiny, Eds. Did you ever think about that? You’re so fucking compact like a little firecracker.” Richie put one hand behind his head and the other over Eddie’s, squeezing lightly.

“Why the fuck am I a firecracker?”

“Uh, cause you’re fucking tiny and when you set off you make a loud fucking noise and scare the shit out of everyone around you?”

“Wow. I actually hate how right you are.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…Yeah, I don’t.”

Richie rubbed his thumb over Eddie’s, and suddenly he didn’t feel so lost in this strange place that felt like home.

 —

Richie hadn’t left the hospital in two days.

It took nearly the entirety of the first day to patch Eddie back together and make sure he was stable. All of that was still iffy, but he refused to leave even for a second. Sleeping in the waiting room had fucked with his back in more ways than one.

Beverly, the saint that she was, had gone back with Ben after they got the note from the doctors that Eddie was being moved into a room, no visitors allowed, and brought Richie back a change of clothes. Eddie’s blood had still been on his glasses, but Bill took them and washed them off before he could vomit at the realization.

Mike he was decidedly ignoring, because it was easiest to blame him for all of this.

The Losers had all sat with him for the start of the second day in Eddie’s room the moment they were allowed in before ducking out one by one. Most of them were going back to the townhouse to make other arrangements for the longer than expected stay.

It was a silent agreement that no one was going anywhere until Eddie woke up.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Beverly murmured softly in his ear, her hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. She had been sitting like this for the last hour, arm around Richie’s shoulders as she sat on the arm of the chair and held him against her. It wasn’t comfortable, but neither of them was saying anything.

“I’ll be fine, Bev.” He reassured her, his eyes not moving from where they had been watching Eddie’s resting form. He was hooked up to so many machines that if he could see them would cause an instant inhaler required panic attack. It wasn’t pretty, none of this was. “Just go back with Ben. I’ll call you if anything…happens.”

Richie felt Beverly let out a slow breath against him, felt the brush of her affectionate kiss against his temple as she got up. “Okay. Call though, even if nothing happens, okay? Just check in with any of us…”

He nodded distantly, his eyes now focusing on a small spot on the ground, the wheel of one of the many devices against the white tile. There was a small scuff, and if Eddie were awake, he’d probably be ranting and demanding to know how often they cleaned the floor. Who knows, that may not just be a scuff, it might be some weird, rare black mold connected to a disease none of them knew even existed. Richie smiled, but not really. It didn’t even meet his eyes, not even his cheeks at best—barely there and forced.

Beverly touched the back of his head lightly before she made her leave. She failed to close the door all the way, and it popped back open slightly with a squeak of the hinges. Fuck Derry and its old as balls hospital.

Fuck Derry in general.

Richie got up with a sigh for the first time in hours, his everything cracking and popping in protest. He pulled a face, placing a hand against his back as he stretched and walked over to the door. The energy drained from his body as he leaned his back against it to close it all the way, wrapping his knuckles against the wood in a light knocking pattern as he looked at Eddie’s form.

“Look at you…like a real fucked up version of Sleeping Beauty right now. Or maybe Snow White- she’s the one that fucking died, right? Too soon?” Richie had finally lost it, but that was fair after everything they had been through so far. He was allowed to lose it, and to talk to Eddie like he could hear him.

“Think I like the vibe of Sleeping Beauty more. ‘S like I’m visiting the fair princess in her tower right. God, you’re not even awake to argue with me on that one. I can call you a fucking prissy princess as much as I want.” A sigh left his lips, crossing the hospital room and deciding that sitting down in the small space left open on the bed was an okay choice.

This was the love of his fucking life right here, and he had almost fucking lost him. Richie was entitled to a little bed sitting until it was fully rejected, and he could accept his crushed heart with valid reason instead of an echo of a chance that was never taken.

“…Listen here, you little turd.” Richie murmured, lowering his voice a little more. “I—if there’s one thing I’ve picked up on everything that’s happened is that…you need me, Eds. You need me, and I need you, asshole. I’ve been fucking miserable without you, and—and, god, it’s like we both just light up when we’re together? This is such fucking bullshit- I’m so glad you can’t hear any of this cause it’s all bullshit I don’t even know what I’m saying. I haven’t exactly slept in like, three days, and I’m not even really sure I know what I’ve eaten. It might just be coffee- I’ve probably just consumed coffee and nothing else. Who knows- it doesn’t really matter right now, actually?”

He scrubbed his face abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing the corners of his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Fuck—fuck.” Richie hissed under his breath, laying his hand back down on the bed again and right on top of Eddie’s. He let that sit for a moment, his hand over Eddie’s. Just resting there without another shaking one grabbing on, covered in blood and pulse fading.

“I fucking need you, asshole.” He whispered, closing his eyes tight and letting the tense silence rest in the room. So quiet, save for the beeping of all those damn machines and the rise and fall of Eddie’s bandaged chest.

So silent, that Eddie’s hand moving beneath his own scared the shit out of him. Richie stared, bewildered as Eddie’s fingers loosely curled around his own and hung on. They flexed, weakly but an effort was being made. Eddie probably wasn’t even aware of any of this. What Richie wouldn’t give to figure out what was going on in his head.

Taking a deep breath, Richie squeezed back gently, his throat feeling tight. “I almost lost you, Eds. I almost—” He trailed off, the air stuttering out of him and eyes stinging with a familiar prickling burn behind his glasses.

Fuck.

Fuck this.

Richie deserved a selfish fucking moment.

He shifted carefully, laying himself down beside Eddie and careful not to disrupt any of the machinery. Richie took his hand again, holding on like a lifeline and moving his thumb in slow rhythm against Eddie’s soft skin.

It was uncomfortable. He was too tall and had to let his legs awkwardly hang off the side of the hospital bed. If Eddie were awake, he’d bitch about Richie still having his shoes on.

When Eddie woke up, he would tell him, just to watch his offended face and listen to him explain how many disgusting things lived on the bottom of your shoes. He’d tell him every disgusting thing just to watch that light come back to him.

When Eddie woke up, because Eddie would wake up.

Richie knew it.

—
 

Eddie was walking down main street with two ice creams in his hand. It was hot today, uncomfortably so. He was sweating profusely so ice cream just made sense. One of the few things Richie and him agreed on were ice cream flavors. It made it easier, just knowing that he could get two single scoops of Moose Tracks and call it a day.

He passed one of the shop windows and froze, catching what he would have assumed to be his reflection out of the corner of his eye.

Except it was someone else.

There was a man there, taller than he was. It looked like there was a bandage on his cheek and blood on his shirt. Eddie was horrified. He had gotten just a split-second look before it was gone, and he found himself staring at his own, wide eyed expression.

For a moment, he had thought that achingly familiar looking man was someone else on these empty Derry streets.

He twisted the toe of his sneaker against the black asphalt when it clicked that he didn’t remember walking down here. How did he even get the ice cream? There wasn’t any money in his fanny pack, or his pockets.

Eddie gave up on that quickly and sat down on the curb, wiping the sweat from his brow against his shoulder.

“Ah- is zat ze flav’r of the day, monsieur?” Came Richie’s broken, awful attempt at a French accent as the boy plopped down beside him, completely shattering his train of thought and pulling him back into the moment.

“Oh my god okay- never do that one again. That one was bad. Like really fucking bad. Worse than the British guy bad.” Eddie made a face, holding one of the ice creams out to him.

It was the summer after the fucking clown. They were fourteen.

Of course they were fourteen. Eddie knew that- he nearly scoffed at his own stupidity. They were fourteen and Richie had just gotten those new glasses, the ones where the lenses didn’t magnify his stupid eyes so much and he stopped looking like so much of a nerd.

It was sweltering.

Why was it so hot? He felt like he was going to burn from the inside out.

Richie took the ice cream from his hand, immediately digging in and looking out around the town. Eddie followed his gaze, a small frown on his lips.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Oui, monsieur?”

“Okay- fucking stop it this is serious.” Eddie turned to look at him a little more, his frown deepening. “Where is everybody? Like all the adults and stuff?”

Richie snorted around the plastic spoon in his mouth, letting it hang there for a moment before he pulled it out lazily. “Why do you fucking care? Isn’t it better with just me?”

That confused him even more. Eddie hadn’t touched his ice cream; in fact he wasn’t really thinking about it. “Well, yeah, but…shouldn’t there be people here?”

“Do you want people here? People that may see us?” Richie did something then, something Eddie had always wished he would have done. He wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulder in a way that suggested more than friends and pulled him in, fiddling with his sleeve between those lanky fingers. “Right now, in this moment, do you want people to see us?”

Eddie felt his heart in his throat, leaning into Richie as if he were being pulled out with the tide.

It was hot today. So fucking hot. Eddie was sticky and sweaty, but Richie felt like a welcomed cool breeze.

The ice cream in his hands stayed un-eaten, un-melted.

“No…” Eddie murmured finally, “When it’s just us…I feel a lot better. I feel like I can talk to you when it’s just us? Especially in Derry. I—I fucking hate this place, Rich. I hate it so fucking much I never wanted to come back here—”

His abdomen gave a sudden sharp, stabbing pain. The one from before that seemed to go straight from his back to his front. Eddie grimaced, wrapping his free arm around his stomach as if that would stop it.

Richie’s ice cream was gone now, both arms were wrapped around him and he was being shushed in an odd, comforting way he didn’t know the other boy was capable of. Eddie closed his eyes, his breath threatening to quicken—but Rich was shushing him and smoothing his hair back with those long fingers he had just started to grow into that year.

“Don’t think about it, Eds. Don’t. You’re not ready to think about it—just stay here with me, okay? Stay here with me. We’ll have fucking fun. We always had fucking fun.” Richie was muttering, soft and in his ear. The sounds of silent Derry around them, of the echoed distortion of his childhood that didn’t make sense.

Eddie sniffed, his panic subsiding a little before it fully started. He leaned into Richie again, his own ice cream gone but he didn’t feel like thinking about it. All that felt right was tucking his head against Richie’s neck like he had wanted to even though they were at the age where boys were now allowed to be this close.

Boys didn’t hold hands or share hammocks. They certainly didn’t comfort one another on city streets outside of the Rite-Aid.

There was no one here to see though, no one in Derry that had to know. It was their own little world and Eddie wouldn’t dream of it being any other way. He and Richie against the world that couldn’t fight back. The world that had no power.

The world that could just let them be kids the way he wished they had.

“…I want to stay here forever.” Eddie whispered, a hushed, selfish wish as he pulled back just a little, wiping at his eyes for reasons unknown.

“I know.” Richie said, “But, ugh, one flaw in that plan.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, wondering if he could even track where Richie’s brain was going with this. “What?”

“See, I promised your mom I’d do something really nice for her tonight? I got this really fucking expensive shit—”

“Fuck off, man!” Eddie laughed loudly, promptly shoving Richie’s head away from him with a grin.

 
—

“No, uh, the doctor’s said he developed some kind of fever?” Richie said into the phone, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the hallway. The nurses were changing Eddie’s bandages and he wasn’t up for seeing all the stitches and blood again- sorry, Eddie.

“How bad is it?” Beverly’s voice echoed from the other end of the line. He had been calling her for updates when he could.

Updates, and when he just felt like breaking into a million pieces.

“It started this morning—he was just sweating fucking bullets, Bev. It’s gotta—its gotta be something to do with that fucking clown. Maybe he was poisoned or— we don’t know what was on him—The water too—you know how he goes on about fucking grey-water--”

“Richie, you’re getting a little ahead of yourself—”

“What if its just—fucking him up slowly and we did all this for nothing!”

“They said he was stable. Listen to me, Richie, we just—”

“Fuck off, Bev! You don’t fucking get it we don’t know what we’re fucking dealing with here!!”

The line went silent after his shouting ended.

Richie stood there, pushing his glasses up to the top of his head and digging his fingers into the corner of his eyes. He took a slow, shuddering breath. That sting was back, and the tightening of his throat.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Beverly. I’m…” He tried to breathe again, leaning back against the wall heavily.

It took her a moment to speak again, and he felt pretty guilty about that.

“I know. It’s a lot. It’s…all up in the air right now. I’m sorry, Richie. Truly I am.” She said, her words chosen carefully with the patience she always seemed to have.

Richie didn’t deserve it. He simply gave a trembling sigh in response.

“…Want me to come down there for a bit? Bill went off to get some flowers—”

“He’s gonna flip his shit about pollen—”

“Fake flowers. He’s been debriefed.”

Richie smiled faintly, shakily and strained.

“Okay…yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, come down here, Bev.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Rich. It’s okay.”

The line went dead.

Richie dropped his hand, letting his phone hang uselessly by his side. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sinking down on the bench close by. Eddie would yell at him if he found out he hadn’t used a tissue.

He added that to the list of things to tell him.

He cried.

—
 

Eddie was lying on his back looking up at the stars.

That was one of the only perks of living in a small town—there were so many stars littering the sky. Tonight, he could see more than normal. There were galaxies and shooting stars and everything beyond belief.

There was a blanket laid out beneath him on the grass. They were on the outskirts of Derry’s city limits, a small clearing the Losers had found in the forest years and years ago. A big enough space between to trees to put nothing between them and the sky.

It didn’t matter this time that he didn’t remember how he got there because it was breathtaking. There was a hand over his own again, the weight of it finally registering in his mind. Eddie rolled his head to the side to look.

There was Richie again, but he was…older. His hair was long and curly still- but his skin, airbrushed like a photoshopped poster. He must be in his twenties, well after they had gone their separate ways in those heartbreaking days right before Eddie’s eighteenth birthday.

Eddie stared at him, as beautiful and surreal as the dreamy night sky above. He couldn’t quite remember where he had seen this Richie. An image of a busy street outside a theater and some kind of image tacked to the wall pricked at his mind. It hurt his brain too much to think about it. There were much easier things to think about- like Richie’s long fingers pointing at the stars and lips moving to words that Eddie couldn’t hear.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Yeah, Spaghetti?”

“…. What’s happening?”

Richie looked over at him finally, studying Eddie’s face for a small moment as he tried to piece together what had been asked.

“What do you mean ‘what’s happening’? We’re watching the stars, dipshit. Obviously.” Richie laughed a little, because everything was a joke to him. Eddie wanted to be irritated at that, but he couldn’t find the energy. All he could manage instead was a soft huff.

“I mean what are you doing. What is this? I don’t know you like this—I never fucking met you like this I don’t even know where or how—”

“Woah, hey. Hey, hey—gonna need you to chill the fuck out, amigo.” Richie kept his attention focused on Eddie, reaching out and taking his hand suddenly to hold tight. “You wanna know what this is? What I’m doing?”

Eddie swallowed hard, his heart in his throat as he squeezed the life out of Richie’s hand. He took a deep breath and gave a slow, somewhat nervous nod. Richie’s thumb was moving over his knuckles in slow, rhythmic movements. It was almost as if the action were absent minded, going directly against the focused look on Richie’s face.

“I’m keeping you here, okay?” Richie told him, even though it didn’t entirely make sense. “I’m keeping you safe, Eds. Making sure you don’t go off anywhere. You’re gonna stay right here with me until everything is fucking a-okay, got it? You and me against Derry—against the fucking world. Richie Tozier’s got one fucking job right now and that’s to make sure Eds Spaghets comes out the other end of this right as fucking rain.”

Eddie listened, swallowing tightly as Richie finished. It made sense- and yet it didn’t. Keeping him here? In Derry? Or just here as a general term? Adding too much thought to it made Eddie’s head hurt. Not only just his head, that blossoming pain in his abdomen and back was returning, steady and sharp and punctured with a stinging at his cheek.

Thinking too much hurt—so he didn’t.

He sat up and leaned over, brushing his lips over Richie’s in a soft kiss. The man beside him was slightly startled- but not for long. There was a hand cupping the back of his neck and drawing him in, a kiss lingering heartbreakingly slow against his mouth. He felt it, but at the same time it felt distant. As if he were kissing Richie right after he had gotten his mouth numbed at the dentist. Tingly static and pressure felt against his lips but…nothing else.

Eddie pulled back just a little, and it took him a moment to realize he felt tears tracking down his own cheeks. His heart hurt and he couldn’t place why.

“I wish this were real.” Eddie whispered, though he didn’t know where it came from. “I wish you were real. I—I don’t know what’s happening but I wish we had gotten this moment…”

Richie touched his cheek, his thumb brushing over Eddie’s lower lip. He chased the digit with a kiss, drawing in a slow breath.

“Me too, Eds.”

 
—

“Richie?” Bill’s said the second Richie answered the phone. He barely even caught it, seeing as he had to fumble with the fucking device for a moment before getting it pressed to his ear. The Losers had finally bullied him into going back to the townhouse to get at least some amount of sleep.

Then Bill’s phone call had woken him up.

“What?” Richie slurred, sleepily. He had been so exhausted he had passed out the second he hit the pillow, but not before setting his alarm to wake him up in six hours so he could shower, change, and head back to the hospital. “What, Bill? What’s happened--?”

“The fever broke, but…” Came Bill’s slow words over the phone, “He’s crying.”

Richie had to pause, a frown creasing across his lips. He barely processed that- it just didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry. He’s fucking what?”

“I know, it’s hard to explain. Just…he’s crying. It just might mean he’s waking up soon? I—I—I’m not quite sure.” Bill’s stuttering was never a good sign.

Richie was already out of bed, trying to shuffle through the mess of the room he had been staying in to find his shoes.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

—
 

When Eddie came to this time, it was dark.

He was standing in his living room. The TV was playing- that same fucking awful program mother would watch day in and day out.

It was so dark, save for the flickering of the television screen. It didn’t even feel like home. When had this ever felt like home?

There was no Richie to be seen. No mom to be seen sitting in her chair and calling for him.

Darkness, the TV, and his own self.

His heartrate kicked up in his chest in a sudden tense squeeze of panic. When did he get here? How did he get here? Why was he here? Not just his childhood home but whatever this place was. It was Derry, but it wasn’t. It was off centered and distorted. There was no one in town to be seen or any cars passing by on the street. Just himself and Richie through different points of time that didn’t even make sense.

The TV clicked to another channel and Eddie jumped.

“What the fuck—” He stumbled back a step, grabbing his shirt over his heart and holding tight. It flicked again, and again, and again, and again—

The TV started changing channels so rapidly that nothing of note could be pieced together. Eddie’s breath became labored as he tried to pat around for his inhaler but to no avail. It was just white noise now, faster and faster through static and distorted imagery. A cavern, that fucking clown, bright white light, static, Richie’s face—but not the Richie he had been seeing here.

Suddenly, a loud bang shot through the room and Eddie screamed, collapsing back and finding himself pressed against a wall instead of where his mother’s armchair should be. There was shouting, distorted and muffled, echoing and pounding at his eardrums. He clasped shaking hands over his ears, his breath coming quicker and quicker—

“You get away from--!”

“You don’t know how fragile he is—!”

“What gave you the right—!”

“I’m here for him now—!”

“Eddie Bear, sweetie—!”

Eddie bunched up into a small ball, his hands still firmly planted over his ears. It sounded like his mother, and at the same time it didn’t. Everything hurt- everything was so loud—

“Mom, stop—” He breathed, not even realizing it. “Stop it you’re shouting--! Stop! Leave me alone!”

The panic seized tighter. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath and held it in an attempt to stop his hyperventilation. It felt useless, as the second he let it out he started shuddering again, trying to suck air back in as quickly as possible as if he were drowning.

He was drowning.

He couldn’t breathe.

The room lit up suddenly like a flashbang, then plunged back into darkness. As if tauntingly matching his chopped breath it began to strobe.

Dark, light.

Dark, light.

Dark, light—

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll take you home sweetie—away from these awful people—”

But he didn’t want to go. He liked it here in his paradise. Just him and—

Him and—

“Richie?” Eddie slid his hands up from his ears and grabbed at his hair, nearly sobbing. Where was he? He needed him right now. He couldn’t fucking breathe, and he needed him right now.

“Richie--!”

It was as if a vacuum had sucked all of the sound out of the room, and everything else with it. The sudden whump of a noise before everything went deathly still. Eddie, with his eyes shut tight and his body trembling, refused to move from the security of his back pressed to the wall. He was frozen, he was terrified.

Then there was a hand on top of his once again, gently drawing it away from the death grip on his hair where his nails had been digging into his scalp. Someone was shushing him gently, taking his other hand and pulling it away as well. As if on autopilot, Eddie uncurled ever so slowly, listening to the familiar voice and touch that he didn’t need to open his eyes to see.

“I’m here.” Richie said, coaxing Eddie closer and accepting the boy as he collapsed into him, face pressed against his neck and shaking breath wracking his body. “I’m right here, Eds. I’ve got you…”

“Rich…” Eddie’s fingers found the back of his shirt. He smelled like that cologne he had doused himself in at the first department store to open up near Derry. Eddie had said he hated it, which was a lie, he couldn’t get that scent off of his mind for weeks. A seventeen-year-old desperate enough to go down and buy a bottle of his own like a creep.

“Shh…Yeah, I’m here. You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let her take you anywhere…” His voice was soothing, like cool water on a hot summer day. Richie pulled Eddie into his lap carefully, cradling him and stroking his fingers down his spine.

Eddie closed his eyes and let himself slip away into a suspended state of calm.

Richie was here.

Everything was okay.

—
 

The first thing that struck Richie was that Eddie really did marry his mother.

Not his actual mother, but a fucking carbon copy of the demon woman. If Richie had been less prepared for the chance of this happening, he would have thought that it was Mrs. K, back from the dead, throwing the hospital door open with a louder than needed bang and immediately started screaming through her tears.

No, it wasn’t Mrs. K, but Myra was blonde and somehow more of a demonic entity than the woman whose likeliness she shared.

“You get away from him!” She demanded immediately, pointing a finger at Richie as if he were somehow the reason for everything god awful in this world. He had been sitting at Eddie’s bedside, as per his usual spot, but that only seemed to add fuel to the fire she had started.

Richie, who was too tired and far too done with the world in general, simply looked crazy in the eyes and went—

“No.”

Myra seemed taken aback for a brief second, as if she were unused to the idea of someone telling her ‘no’ and had already been pushing around the machines with far less care than Richie would have liked. Especially from someone who seemed to ‘care’ an awful lot about Eddie and his health.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not fucking leaving.”

Richie leveled a stare with her, determined and set in where he was. He had been waiting- day in and day fucking out by Eddie’s side until Beverly and Bill drove him away with threats he didn’t care to repeat. He had canceled tour dates and shifted shows around- his manager was another force to reckon with on the phone.

He had worried himself physically sick over the man in this bed and he wasn’t about to go anywhere.

Especially when he knew how unhappy Eddie had been with this woman from the whispered words they had shared in the townhouse bar a few short hours after the other Losers had gone off to try and sleep.

“You—yes you are!” Myra started off again, standing at the foot of Eddie’s bed. “You don’t know how fragile he is!”

He snorted and gave a tired, bitter laugh. “You’re right. I fucking don’t—because he’s not. God, you just fucking feed into it too, don’t you? Where the hell did he find someone like you—”

“He married me! I’m his wife--! What even gave you the right?!”

“Uh, he did. When he told me that he left you?”

That seemed to hit the nerve Richie was looking for. He was tired and heartbroken, and yeah, maybe wanted to dig a bit at the woman that seemed to mentally manipulate the love of his fucking life in the same poisonous way his mother had.

On the bed, Eddie’s expression distorted briefly. The heartrate monitor kicked up a small notch, unbeknownst to the two arguing in the room.

“Well I’m still his wife. There’s a better hospital back in New York I’m going to—”

“He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“You don’t know that! He’s unconscious! Eddie, sweetie, I’m going to take you away from here—”

Eddie’s face distorted again, and a small sound came out from between his lips.

Both the forces in the room froze.

Myra, still red faced from her screaming, stared at him with wide eyes. “…Eddie? Sweetheart. It’s me…I’m here. You know I’m here, don’t you? I’m going to take care of you—”

The unconscious man muttered something again under his breath. Richie leaned in closer, unable to believe he had actually heard him right. There was no way Eddie had just…

“…Richie…” Eddie breathed, lifting his hand weakly on the bed. It moved a fraction, then dropped right back onto the sheets.

Richie, feeling hope, happiness, love, and yeah, a tiny bit of selfish triumph blossom in his chest immediately leaned forward and took his hand.

“I’m here, Eds.” He murmured, clasping Eddie’s hand between both his own. “I’m right here.”

He spared a small glance at Myra out of the corner of his eye. That expression of outrage and bewilderment was worth more than anything in this world. Eddie held his hand loosely, and Richie held tight right back. Myra stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sitting in stunned silence for a moment, Richie couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh. He lifted Eddie’s hand, pressing his knuckles to his forehead and waiting for his heart to calm down.

“Fuck…Fucking shit, Eds. Only you. Only you, man.” He laughed again, this one on the verge of breaking down into tears once more. “Of course, you go right the fuck back to sleep you little shit. I’m pretty sure you just officially divorced your wife with that one. You’re gonna be in so much deep shit when you wake up…You’d better wake up so I can terrorize your divorce hearings.”

Richie lowered his hand back to the bed but didn’t let go for the rest of the night.

—
 

It felt…calmer the next time Eddie came to. Like something had been settled.

He was standing in the empty school gym. Decorations were littering the place in that tacky way only the early 90s understood. Streamers and lights, a disco ball spinning slowly from the ceiling. There was soft, distorted music he couldn’t quite pick up on.

The hand painted paper banner read ‘PROM’ in big, blue letters.

He was wearing a tux.

“Pray thee, may I have this dance?”

Eddie turned around, staring at Richie stooped in a low, over dramatic bow. His wild hair dropped into his face and he straightened up quickly, giving a flick of his head to toss it back. It was their senior year. Richie had looked handsome in a tux.

They had spent prom on the opposite sides of the gym.

This wasn’t then, though. This was now.

Eddie cracked a smile, reaching out and taking the outstretched hand offered to him. “I don’t even think you used that phrase right, asshole.” He quipped, allowing himself to be pulled in.

Richie snorted and wrinkled his nose, “What are you? A fucking old English Nazi now?”

He placed a hand naturally on Rich’s shoulder, feeling another one settle against his waist. The music shifted in tune, something out of date with lyrics he couldn’t really understand. It was slow, though, and it fit what he was feeling somehow.

“No. I just like calling you out on your incorrect bullshit.”

“Cut me some fucking slack, Eds. I don’t call you on your bullshit.”

“Uh? You fucking do? All the time?”

Richie moved them slowly, and Eddie was actually okay with following his lead. It was something Richie would be smug about later, but if he had an ounce of sanity left in him, he wouldn’t comment on it.

Richie was talking again. His lips were moving but Eddie couldn’t hear the words. All he could hear was the music and his own thoughts. They were jumbled and confused, as if fighting through a haze to get to him. Screaming to wake up—

Wake up soon, Eddie.

It’s almost time.

You need to wake up.

Eddie blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a tight moment as he tried to will the thoughts away. He felt like he was slipping again, like he was losing time and his chance. A chance he had so many times but never took.

He didn’t want to leave that chance by the wayside again.

“Rich.” Eddie breathed, his eyes snapping up to him again, “Richie, I need to tell you something.”

“Is it about what you caught me and your mom doing in the kitchen? Cause I can explain—”

“This is serious—”

Richie’s bright, knowing grin was still in place. It was him, but it wasn’t at the same time. That unsettling copy and pasted effect that Eddie still hadn’t quite figured out. Still, this was Richie, and Richie needed to know.

“Okay. Serious. Tell me then.” Richie let his hand slide lower, resting against the small of Eddie’s back. He stopped their swaying, standing patiently and listening.

Eddie swallowed hard, both hands resting loosely on Richie’s chest. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for rejection.

“I love you.” He told him, soft and bare with honesty. “Richie—I love you.”

Silence stretched, and Eddie just wanted to curl up and die. Richie’s expression didn’t change, as if someone had hit pause on the TV and just left it. When he moved again it was sudden, everything clicking back into gear and catching up. Eddie braced himself for the worst, for name calling or disgust. He expected anything and everything—but what he didn’t expect is what he received.

“I know.” Richie said simply, taking one of Eddie’s hands and holding it firm in his own. He was moving now, walking Eddie away from the dace floor.

Eddie’s brow creased in confusion, gathering his footing at the unexpected movement and following after him. “You know? What the fuck does that mean? Richie—Hey, asshat, would you stop fucking moving just talk to me a second--!”

Richie didn’t stop moving, and he didn’t stop smiling. It was a knowing smile. One that Eddie couldn’t put a finger on. They were at the gym doors now, and Richie had his freehand on the handle, turning to look at the shorter boy before him.

“It means I know that you love Richie.” He said, in an even more confusing tone of voice. It was distorted, it wasn’t Richie, but it was at the same time. It was hearing Richie how he remembered him from that time. High school Richie with his stupid grin and stupid looks that he had grown into.

“I know…but he doesn’t.” Richie pushed the door open behind himself and yanked Eddie out onto the street. “So, it’s time you get to tell him.”

“What the fuck, Rich—”

The world went black.

Eddie opened his eyes, immediately screwed them shut again, and let out a groan of protest. Everything was so bright, and there was that fucking beeping again. He hurt in places he didn’t know he could hurt, which, actually, was all over. A small shift shot discomfort through his body.

Also, someone had his hand pinned in a firm grip.

“What the fuck, Rich…” Eddie muttered, his voice hoarse and throat uncomfortably scratchy. How long had he been asleep? Why was that the first thing that felt right to say? He cracked his eyes open cautiously, giving them a second to adjust to the room as he looked over.

It felt right to say because Richie was right there, asleep in the chair in a position that looked uncomfortable. His head was back, and he was snoring, Eddie’s hand caught in his grip and being held in his lap.

 Memories filtered in and out slowly, like flour in a sieve. There were chunks that he could hang on to for a brief moment, but those faded quickly as they were tossed away, irrelevant to the rest of the process. He could remember the sewers…stabbing that fucking clown…

There were bits and pieces he wished he didn’t remember, like unbearable pain and hearing Richie’s panicked, broken voice. Hands on his face begging him not to leave him. To stay away, stay with him.

Then…dreaming.

Really nice dreams.

The kind you wanted to remember but faded through your fingers no matter what you did to hang onto them.

Oh well.

In the chair, Richie snorted awake ungraciously. Eddie cracked a weak smile, watching him stare at the ceiling and piece together the meaning of life in the way that only happened after you woke up from the Devil’s nap in an uncomfortable chair.

“You just fucked up your neck so much.” Eddie muttered, coughing lightly. “Fuck….” Oh, that hurt his chest. He’d have to be careful.

Richie sat up ramrod straight with such speed it was almost comical. He looked at Eddie, eyes wide and disbelieving behind his glasses.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck, you’re awake—shit you’re awake—Eddie! Eddie, you’re awake!” Richie tried to pull the chair closer and nearly lost his balance but managed to get it on the second try.

Eddie cringed slightly, closing his eyes again and resting back.

“Fuck. Yeah, I’m awake, dickwad. Please stop shouting everything is so…so much right now.” He sighed, letting his body ease.

For once in his life Richie seemed to listen, his thumb brushing over Eddie’s knuckles slowly.

As the silence sat, so did his memories. There was something prickling at the back of his mind- something important that he needed to tell Richie.

Richie who was still holding his hand.

I know, but he doesn’t.

Eddie could hear the beeping of the heart monitor.  Fuck, did they have him hooked up to other stuff too? He’d have to check it out and get Richie to google the reviews for this hospital once his head stopped spinning. They were probably in the first one the Losers could find. Eddie was scared to see how wonky this place was.

So, it’s time you get to tell him.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open and he looked over at Richie quickly. He tried to sit up, but grimaced and sank right back down. “Ouch—ouch, okay no sitting up.” Eddie drew in a sharp breath, “Richie. Richie, listen—Richie, I—”

“What? What is it, man?” Richie leaned closer, already hanging off of his words with desperation Eddie had never seen before.

“Would you just shut up and let me fucking say it? Shit.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

Eddie had to take another slow breath and brace himself all over again. Fuck Richie, throwing him off his groove.

Also, fuck Richie. At some point. That would come later.

He looked over at him, feeling his heart in his throat. “…I love you.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, but it was different this time. There were sounds- birds chittering outside, people shuffling in the hallways, the steady beeping of different machines. Richie looked stunned speechless, and Eddie wished he had a camera to save that look forever.

“You…” Richie trailed off, still staring at him. “Fuck. Fuck, Eds. Fuck—yeah, I love you too.”

It came out breathy and desperate. So…genuine that Eddie felt his heart squeeze in his chest and not just out of panic. He didn’t know what else to say, or how else to cap off the conversation.

“Oh…okay. Cool. So, we’re…mutual then.” Eddie muttered, dumbly. It earned a laugh from Richie, so that counted as something nice. It must have been the right thing to say.

“You’re a fucking square, Kaspbrak.”

Then Richie’s lips were on his, and everything was alright with the world.

It may not have been the first kiss he had been envisioning. It was no gentle, romantic kiss under the stars with that cute version of Richie he had seen on a poster outside a New York theater when he was twenty and had didn’t know why the man seemed so familiar. His lips were chapped and painful, his throat still hurt from however long he was unconscious. They were in a hospital room that smelled all too sterile and like Richie’s cologne at the same time. Eddie was hungry as all hell and his head felt stuffed full of cotton.

It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It was an awkward angle and Richie probably hadn’t brushed his teeth yet, but with Richie’s hand against his cheek and pure, raw love hanging in the air Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

After a few long moments, Richie pulled back, smiling down at Eddie with more warmth that he had ever thought possible. It was like basking in soft sunlight, feeling the brush of a summer breeze as Richie combed his hair back gently with his fingers and let them brush over the scruff that had developed on Eddie’s jaw. He sighed softly, his aching body relaxing on the hospital bed.

He was so…happy.

“So, uh, you were done with Myra, right? That’s what you told me.”

That caught him completely off guard. Leave it to Richie to take a perfectly warm, blissful moment and dunk Eddie’s poor coma strained mind into a bucket of ice water.

“I…was gonna call her and follow through with filing for divorce. Why?”

“Uh...we may or may not have fought over your unconscious body.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, “Rich.”

“And I possibly told her that you left her.”

“…Fuck you, man.” Eddie said, with no bite behind it whatsoever. He was actually smiling, giving a weak laugh. “Fuck you. I mean you’re right but fuck you.”

“Well, I knew you did. You told me.”

Richie was smiling in turn, leaning over and pressing another kiss to Eddie’s mouth. He was awake, alive, and right here. There was no way he could help himself.

“You realize you gave her a head start on destroying my shit, right?” Eddie muttered against his mouth.

“Eh, yeah. I’ll buy you new shit.”

Eddie fell back into the slow rhythm of kissing him again, squeezing Richie’s hand tight within his own.

He felt Richie’s pulse beneath his fingers. Felt the scratch of his stubble against his cheek. There was the small bite of his teeth and the breath from his nose. Eddie felt anything and everything, and everything was okay.

“You good?” Richie asked, softly.

Eddie smiled, his mind flickering with a distant memory of light filtering through the trees and a dumbass kid with stupid glasses before the image quickly faded.

“…Yeah…yeah I’m fucking fine.”