Archive of Our Own

"Stan's in his room," Rabbi Uris told Richie as soon as he opened the door. "Go ahead on up."

"Thanks, sir," Richie said, adjusting his glasses as he walked passed him. He never really knew what to say to Stan's dad; the guy honestly made him kind of uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine actually living with him.

"Just don't stay too long," Rabbi Uris called after him. "Stanley has to prepare for tomorrow!"

Richie shot him a thumbs up and hurried up the stairs to Stan's room. The door was shut when he got there, but Richie was never much for other people's privacy. He whipped it open, preparing some witty greeting to say to his friend, but the other boy wasn't there. Richie frowned, wondering where he could be until he saw the light coming from the bathroom down the hall. As he neared it, he heard what sounded like sobbing coming from the other side of the door. Richie grew suddenly nervous. His first thought was that It had gotten to him. His second thought was that it had to do with him. It hadn't been that long since Richie's fight with Bill, and he knew that Stan was afraid that their group was disintegrating. They hadn't spoken about it since that night in the clubhouse, but it was always something unspoken in the air between them as they'd hung out these last couple weeks. 

"Stanley?" Richie called. The sobbing on the other side stopped abruptly. "Are you okay?"

"Go away, Richie," Stan said. His voice sounded stuffy and muffled. 

Richie scoffed. "It's kind of my specialty to not leave people alone. I hope you're not naked, cuz I'm coming in."

"Richie, don't-" Richie heard Stan grab for the lock on the door, but he got there first, opening the door wide. He caught a flash of something silver before Stan put his hand behind his back. His face was red and tear-stained. "What are you doing here?" he asked miserably.

Richie shut the door behind him. "What do you mean? I came to hang out with you, Stan the Man. Figured you'd want one more night of childhood before you become a man tomorrow." He moved to the other side of the bathroom and Stan turned so that his back was turned away from Richie. Richie sat down on the toilet seat. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I supposed to pretend that you weren't just crying?"

"I wasn't crying," Stan told him.

"Okay, then. Second option it is." Richie looked around the room as casually as he could, then quickly grabbed for Stan's arm. Stan reacted quickly, but Richie tried again and managed to shake his arm loose, forcing him to drop what he'd been hiding. They both froze, Stan staring at Richie and Richie staring at the object on the ground.

"It's not what it looks like," Stan said, his voice quivering.

Richie knelt down, tears forming in his eyes as he picked up the razor blade from the ground and moved it around in his hand. For once in his life, he didn't know what to say. He was always able to come up with a witty remark or an inappropriate joke, but when it came to talking about something as serious as this, he was utterly speechless. He suddenly wished Bev was there, or Mike, or even Eddie. Eddie at the very least could talk Stan's ear off about the health consequences of what Stan was about to do. Richie was way underqualified for this. The only thing he was good at was hugs, like with Bill and Eddie. But Stan wasn't a fan of hugs.

Fuck it. Touch was Richie's love language and he didn't know what else to do. He wrapped his arms around Stan and, surprisingly, the other boy leaned into him. Suddenly they were both crying, clinging to each other like they never had before. He moved them to the floor so they would be a little more comfortable, his arms still wrapped around Stan. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this way?" Richie asked him. He hated to think that maybe he should've seen it all along. Stan seemed to be the most affected by It's attacks, and by the fight after Niebolt. He may have stood up to Bill, but all he wanted was for them to be safe and together. Richie knew neither of those things were true anymore.

Stan sniffed. "I don't know. You guys are all so fearless. I don't want you to be held back by my fears. I'll only get you all killed."

"Like hell you will," Richie told him. "You think we all aren't afraid of something? Well, maybe Bill isn't, but he's fucking crazy." Stan smiled at that. Richie took that as a good sign. 

"What are you afraid of? And don't say clowns. I've known you for years and you've never shown any fear for clowns."

Richie adjusted his glasses. "I can't tell you. If you knew, you'd never be able to look at me the same. No one in this town would."

"What are you talking about? We're the Losers Club. We're bonded by the fact that no one else in this town will accept us. What could you possibly say that would make us feel differently?"

Richie considered telling him then, to finally let out this secret he had been holding in for so long. But then he thought about Henry Bowers and the kids at the arcade who stared at him and shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Richie-"

"Don't try to move the conversation to me. We're talking about you here. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell us when you're feeling sad. Friends forever, like we said. We care about you, Stan. I don't know what I'd do if you...if you weren't here anymore. I'd miss your stupid face. You are way too important to me. Don't let anyone, not your dad, or It, or fucking Henry Bowers-" He scowled, clenching his fists. "-convince you otherwise."

Stan gently touched Richie's clenched hand. "Did something happen, Richie?"

"No!" Richie said a little too quickly and a little too loudly. "He's just a piece of shit. So's his entire goddamn family." The fear and anger and grief he had experienced after the arcade all came flooding back. "I just wanted to play another game, but I touched his hand too long, and he freaked out, cuz why wouldn't he? I'm a freak. And he told him that I'm a...that I'm..."

"Gay?" Stan asked quietly. 

Richie nodded slowly. He could barely see with the tears in his eyes. He blinked and they fell down his cheeks. He took his glasses off and rubbed at them. "I wouldn't blame you for hating me now."

"What?" Stan asked. "After everything we've been through together, you think I'd hate you because you told me you like boys?" He laughed softly then. "As if I didn't already know."

Richie looked up at him, squinting through his tears and his bad eyesight. "What?"

"Richie. You're my best friend, despite all of your stupid sex jokes and your general dumbassery." Richie stared at him blankly. His entire mind was blank right now. Stan rolled his eyes. "Eddie?"

Richie's heart skipped a beat. "W-what about Eddie?"

"I see the way you look at him, the way you treat him differently than you treat the rest of us. The way you blew up at Bill when he got hurt."

"Well, yeah. He's my friend and he almost died."

"Would you do the same for the rest of us?"

"Of course."

"Would you fight Eddie if Bill got hurt?"

"I...I..." Richie tried to think of some way to salvage this situation, to disprove what it was clear both of them knew. He realized it was no use and sighed. "Was it obvious?"

Stan smiled softly. "Only to someone who's been following you around for years. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who knows."

"Not for much longer, if Henry Bowers gets his way. He'll tell the whole town that I'm a fairy who tried to seduce his poor, sweet cousin. As if he wasn't fucking into it."

"Wait. You hit on Henry Bowers' cousin?"

"No!" Richie said quickly. He adjusted his glasses. "Maybe. I wouldn't say 'hit on.' We just played Street Fighter together."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Stan smiled. 'Was he cute?"

Richie rolled his eyes but smiled back. "Not as cute as Eddie."

Stan laughed. "I love Eddie to death, but what in the world do you see in him?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I like how flustered he gets when I tease him, and how worked up he gets about his disease of the week, and his legs in those shorts. God, when he climbed into the hammock with me last month, I almost killed myself." He froze, remembering the reality of the situation they were currently in. "Not that I..I didn't...that was a poor choice of words."

To his surprise, Stanley started laughing. Richie watched in shock and a little horror as his friend shook with laughter, to the point where tears were streaming down his face. He smacked Richie and Richie started laughing, too. He had no idea what exactly they were laughing about, but it took several minutes for them to stop. "I hate you," Stan said when they finally calmed down.

"I love you, too, Stanley," Richie told him, pressing his head into his friend's shoulder. They sat again in silence for a bit. "You can't tell anyone."

Stan sighed. "I know. I won't tell anyone you're gay for Eddie if you don't tell anyone what I almost did."

"Deal." He paused. "So, you ready to become a man tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not."

"Better than getting eaten by a crazy clown."

"Is it though?" They laughed again. "You should get going before my dad starts yelling at you in Hebrew."

"I'd love to learn some more swear words-"

"Richie."

Richie sighed, pulling himself to his feet. "Alright fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He paused at the door and turned one last time. "I will see you tomorrow, right?"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Richie smiled. "I better, or I'll resurrect you and kill you myself. Goodbye, Stanley!"

About an hour after leaving the Losers Club meeting where they made the blood oath, Richie heard a knock on the door of his house. Neither of his parents were home at the moment, so Richie sighed and went to answer it himself. On the other side was Stan, looking scared. Richie quickly ushered him in and they sat together on the floor of the living room.

"I didn't want to say this in front of everyone. You know how Bev saw our futures when It had her?" he asked Richie. Richie nodded. "I saw mine."

"You saw yourself at Niebolt?"

Stan looked up at him, tears in his eyes. He shook his head. "I don't make it to Niebolt, Richie. I saw myself, as an adult, laying in my bathtub. My-my wrists were cut and there was blood everywhere. I don't know what was happening exactly that led to that, but I could feel how scared I was. That's why I was freaking out in Niebolt. I saw it happen again, and that meant that you guys weren't around, and we weren't friends anymore."

Richie wrapped his arms around him. "It was probably just showing you your biggest fear, like It usually does. I can't imagine not being friends with you losers. That's not going to happen, Stanley."

"But Bev saw the future, too. And she says she saw me, but I just got the feeling she was lying. I think It is going to come back in twenty-seven years, and I think you are all going to come back, but I'm not."

Richie's heart was beating really fast and he felt tears in his own eyes. "That's ridiculous, Stanley. Nothing is going to happen to you. You're going to grow up and fall in love with some babe and have lots of tiny babies that are going to be just as weird and as awesome as you are. You hear me? You're going to be happy. And when you do die, you'll be old and gray and surrounded by the people who love you, so many people because so many people love you, Stanley. Friends forever, like we said. You're stuck with me. Don't you ever forget that. If It ever comes back, we'll come back, too, just like Bill said. We'll deal with it, together. As long as we're together, nothing bad can happen. Us losers gotta stick together. Understand?"

Stan put his head on Richie's shoulder. "I'm scared."

"We all are, Stanley. That's life."

"Life sucks."

"Agreed." He sighed. "Eddie hugged me when he left the oath ceremony," he said miserably.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"No! It was a friend hug and friend hugs suck when you don't want it to be a friend hug."

"Did he friend hug everyone else?"

"No..."

Stan looked at him, eyebrows raised, he'd slightly tilted. "Richie..."

"I know. I know. I can't know what's going inside other people's heads except if they tell me. But, Eddie? He's not...no. He's just not."

"You'll never know unless you tell him."

Richie rolled his eyes. Ever since Richie had told him about his feelings for Eddie, Stan kept insisting that he should tell him. Which was an insane idea. Why would Richie risk losing their friendship on some minuscule chance that Eddie actually felt the same way? No, absolutely not. There was no way Eddie, sweet, clean Eddie, felt anything other than friendship towards Richie. The idea that he could was too good to be true. No sense getting his hopes up to have them come crashing down.

But, despite Stan's meddling, he loved having someone to talk to about this. Who knew talking about your problems rather than keeping all your feelings locked inside of you was a good thing? And it went both ways. The more they talked, the more he thought how ridiculous it was the Stan thought they wouldn't always be friends. It would have to take some massive force to keep him from being friends with Stan.

"Alright. I'm done talking about my feelings. Do you wanna talk about your feelings?"

Stan shook his head. "No, thank you."

"Do you want to watch this new nature documentary my mom rented?"

Stan stared at him for a few seconds, his eyes squinted. "You know me too well. Yes."

Richie smiled and they went to his room to gather blankets and pillows to create a comfy spot in the living room to watch it. He honestly couldn't care less about nature but he enjoyed the commentator. He also loved the fact that as soon as he laid down after popping in the film, Stan scooted closer to him so they were laying right next to each other. Eddie would always be his favorite cuddle partner, but he had to admit that Stan wasn't half bad. Screw whatever vision Stan had in Niebolt; he wasn't going to let anything take this way from him.

Stan frowned in confusion at the absence of the last piece to his puzzle. He had just gotten this last week; there was no way he had already misplaced it. 

"Okay. We are Buenos Aries bound," Patty said enthusiastically. 

He took his glasses off, squinting at the ground around the table before noticing it laying on the floor. He stuffed his glasses into his pocket and kneeled down on the floor, reaching under the table to grab the rebellious puzzle piece. As he crawled under the table, his phone rang. He pulled out in confusion; through the glass, he could see it was from an unknown number, and he usually didn't answer unknown numbers, but something about this felt important. He sat up, stuffing the puzzle piece into his pocket so it wouldn't run away again, and grabbed his phone. The area code looked familiar, and the location said Maine. That was odd. Stan was from Maine. He realized, though, that he didn't remember much about it.

"Stanley Uris speaking," he greeted whoever was on the other end of the line.

"It's Mike," a deep voice replied. The man spoke with such familiarity as if he knew Stan, but Stan couldn't recall knowing anyone by that name, much less someone from Maine.

"I'm sorry?"

"Mike Hanlon," the man said patiently. "From Derry."

That was all Stan's memory needed. Everything started flowing back. Derry, his hometown. Mike, his friend. One of six. The Losers Club.

"Mike," he said. "Yes. Sorry. Hi." He chuckled nervously. "I d-don't know why I didn't...um...how long's it been?"

"A long time," Mike told him. "Twenty-seven years."

Stan stood up slowly. No. This wasn't happening. They defeated It. He had wished so badly for so long that they had defeated It. But they hadn't. That's the only reason Mike would have called. "It's come back, hasn't it? That's why you're calling me?"

"It's starting again, Stan. Bad things are happening."

"D-did you call the others? I m-mean, what if they don't come?" God, had he turned into Bill? He had never stuttered this badly before. 

"We made a promise, remember?" Of course he remembered. He didn't even have to look at his hand to see the scar across his palm, caused by a broken piece of glass. Honestly, it had been very unhygienic. Why had he agreed to do this? He didn't even want to come back. He was too scared. He couldn't. The fear was too strong.

That's when he realized this was the moment he had seen in his vision. He remembered sitting on the floor of Richie's living room, telling him about how he was going to die, he just wasn't sure when. This was when. He should have known. The fear he had felt, there was only one thing that had ever made him feel that way. Twenty-seven years ago, in an old abandoned house. A clown, and a woman with a flute. He had barely made it through the first fight. There was no way he could make it through this one. He was just going to get everyone killed.

Like hell you will, Richie had told him that day in the bathroom when Stan had almost done what he had thought about doing a thousand times, what he was thinking about doing now. It was the first time he had ever opened up to someone about how he was feeling, the dark thoughts that swam through his mind on a daily basis. As long as we're together, nothing bad can happen. 

"Stan?" Mike asked him, snapping back to the present.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"How soon can you get here?"

Us losers gotta stick together. "Tomorrow," Stan told him.

"Good. I'll text you everything you need to know. I'll see you soon, Stan the Man."

"What was that all about?" Patty asked, a concerned look on her face.

Stan blinked. "Huh?"

Patty stood up, moving towards him and laying a hand on his arm. "Who was that? Was it work?"

"Uh, no." Stan considered how much of this he should tell her. He wouldn't believe anyone who told him they were about to go to their childhood town that they just remembered growing up in to go fight a killer clown with six friends they also just remembered existed. Half-truth it was, then. "It was an old friend. He wants to get together for a reunion tomorrow night back home."

Patty frowned. "Back home as in Maine?"

Stan gave her an apologetic smile. "We're going to have to postpone Buenos Aires."

"Well can I come with?"

Stan's stomach dropped at the thought of bringing his wife to a town where a clown was murdering everyone. He didn't even want to go. "No,' he said quickly. As her face fell, he rushed to explain. "My friends and I haven't seen each other in such a long time, and they're honestly a lot to handle, even for me-"

"It's alright. You go have fun."

Stan grabbed her hand. "I want you to meet them. Trust me. As soon as we have reacquainted and everything, I'll fly you out to introduce you. I want to share with you the parts of my life I haven't been able to. A lot happened to us when we were kids, and it's hard to talk about. But I want to. I will. Just...not right now. Can you trust me?"

"Of course. I just hope you're going to be safe and not get yourself into trouble."

That made two of them. "Everything is going to be fine. I promise. We'll be together again before you know it."

God he hoped he was telling the truth.