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Richie Tozier was loud.
He was annoying and vulgar.
And sometimes he would sing in his bedroom too loudly pretending Eddie was there with him and wake up his father, who pounded on his door and yelled for him to be quiet.
He had no special skills, he couldn’t sing like Bev, he couldn’t dance like Mike or draw or like Stan or write like Bill. And he can’t ever compete with the angel that was Eddie Kaspbrak.
He wasn’t even funny, no one liked his jokes. No one liked him.
Sometimes Bev would say that “you’re funny when you’re not trying to be.”
That didn’t make any fucking sense to Richie.
And after Pennywise, he didn’t have a purpose. He couldn’t even care about high school. Bev’s aunt had moved to Derry and that seemed to be the only upside of his year.
He couldn’t get out of bed, which sounds like such a stupid thing to say if it wasn’t true.
And more often than not, he chain-smoked till he was light-headed.
Because, who cares if he dies?
He’s a nuisance to all of the losers and his family.
He knows deep down that his Mom and Dad don’t love him. They’d expressed their want for a girl.
Having Richie was just the first of many disappointments he brought.
His father had finally come home after a 2-week business trip.
‘You let your grades slip.’
Yes, he did.
He couldn’t do his homework, he just sat at his desk listening to come as you are. But god he couldn’t help it she creeping feelings of worthlessness, paired with the constant restless state of his mind and body created a tornado of self-loathing and the need to get up and do something and not being able too because
“You don’t matter, you could stay in bed all day and no one would care.”
So he did. For a whole 4 days, he stayed in bed. Getting up to pee was hard, but he knew he had to.
And he stewed in everything he hated about himself. Playing over and over like the broken tears for fears record he couldn’t change.
On day 5 the losers came to visit him. Completely unannounced accept for the short phone call to his mother.
Jee thanks mom you didn’t even tell me they were coming over.
Bev walked in first, shell shocked at his appearance.
His hair was greasy and when she stepped closer she could smell the results of possible weeks of no washing.
His eyes flickered open and landed on hers.
He said nothing.
She adapted to the situation and spoke in a soft tone.
“Hey Richie, we all came to check on you.”
She didn’t dare ask if he was okay because it was damn obvious he wasn’t.
Richie blinked, slowly and watery, but movement was something.
Bill came in next.
Richie wanted to make a joke, maybe laugh and call him big Bill again.
But it seemed like he’d never call him that again.
He didn’t seem to know what was happening as he spoke quite loudly.
“Why didn’t you go to school?”
Bev put a hand on Bill’s shoulder.
Richie flinched.
His thoughts seemed trapped in his head and he wanted to scream
‘Im sorry! I really wanted to, I want to get up! Let me up!’
Who was he screaming to again?
Bill or himself?
Ben comes in next, bearing gifts.
“I’m guessing you're feeling down, I made you cookies.”
He says with a shy smile as he hands over the container.
“You mean a lot to us.”
The phrase echoes in his head, ringing like a bell. Cotton within his head clouds over the statement.
He could be lying, you know you’re annoying. He turns to Beverly and Bill,
they nod with his statement.
Richie feels a little tug at the corners of his mouth.
He feels the cotton in his head ease up,
But he still knows how long he has to wait for it to clear.
If it ever does.
Mikes next.
“I wanted to bring Nessa with me, but she’s getting a little too big for me to carry.”
He laughs a bit, slightly nervous at seeing the state of Richie.
His eyes look so dull, void of any emotions he remembers.
Mike wishes he would say some stupid joke and play this off as a prank
‘God, please let this be a prank.’ he thinks.
Richie blinks a few times, wanting to smile at the mention of one of his favorites sheep on the farm.
He has good memories of the farm.
He remembers how soft she is, her fluff feeling like expensive silk on his fingers.
I want to smile.
You don’t deserve it.
Stan is next.
He doesn’t have anything with him but his words.
He kneels down next to the bed and whispers to him.
‘I know.”
Richie is confused, but then he continues.
“I know what this is like, I went through this too many times. you’re going to get through this. You have too. “ Stan tries to hide the desperation in his voice.
He says in a quieter whisper.
“You’re Richie fucking Tozier.”
And he cracks, his eyes water and one stray tear slips past his defenses, he feels his metaphorical walls crumble like sand.
He wants to move, but he’s paralyzed. By his own fear, his own self-loathing.
By himself.
Stan movies to grasp Bills and Mike’s hands, as he nods to Bev and Ben.
They hold the hands of each other and look to Richie with worry.
He feels pathetic.
Then Eddie walks in.
Pressing the trigger of his inhaler as he kneels over.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
That fucking smile, if any time during the week Richie wishes he could smile. It’s right now. If only for a second, just so he could smile with him.
Tell his a gross joke and watch as Eddie tries not to laugh, as he scolds Richie for whatever he said. He wishes this could go away. Just for Eddie.
Because that’s all it ever has been.
Eddie Eddie Eddie.
Stan flashes him a knowing look.
“Let’s give them some time.” the rest of the losers (sans Eddie) nod and walk out of the room, closing the door after them.
Eddie sits at the bed next to him.
“How long has that record been playing?”
Oh right, he forgot about that.
“What the fuck is up with you? God, you look worse than Stan.”
And Richie realizes that this is what Stan went through.
Laying in bed because he felt like nothing like the world fucking hit you with a tractor and no one fucking cares about it.
“You know, you can talk to me, right? A kind of secret for secret if it would make you feel better.”
Eddies trying, he has an idea of what’s going on with Richie but he’s only going to understand if he tells him.
Richie knows this. He feels the desperation coming off Eddie in waves. And he hates it. He hates that Eddie is feeling like that because of him.
Precious Eddie.
Beautiful Eddie.
So he talks, not for himself. For Eddie.
“I can't move.”
He dry laughs.
“I-” his voice breaks and tears fall down the sides of his head.
“I know. You don’t have to move, just talk.”
Richie understands.
“I’m nothing, I have all these thoughts in my head that tell me I’m not worth shit. And no one likes me because I’m not even funny. Trashmouth isn't even fucking funny! And I hate myself, I hate myself so much and I could disappear tomorrow and no one would give a shit.”
He takes a breath
“Not you, not the rest of the losers because I’m annoying all I do is annoy you and I’m so so fucking sorry. I hate myself, I don’t deserve you guys because you are just great. And I’m nothing. I’m nothing I’m just worthless I hate myself!”
And for the first time that night, Eddie understands.
“Me too.” Eddie laughs.
And Richie is shocked.
“W-what?”
“Come on Trashmouth, secret for secret.” Eddie gives a pathetic smile.
He lays back, laying next to Richie in his bed, tangling his left hand with his right one.
“I hate my body.” Eddie starts.
“Eddie you don’t have to d-” Richie gets cut off.
he turns his head to look at Richie, captured by his sad eyes. Eddies drowned with the feelings he hates so much.
“I want to.”
“You know how I’m so afraid of getting sick?” he doesn’t wait for an answer.
“Sometimes I can't eat because of it. Well, I can, I eat. But afterward.” he chuckles. “That’s a different story.” “I feel so fat and gross. And like I’ve been poisoned. And it’s horrible and I’m always so scared that I’ll get food poisoning.”
He sighs and squeezes Richie’s hand tighter.
“So I make myself throw-up.”
“What?”
“I just, I stick my fucking fingers down my throat, and I gag until I vomit. And I know I’m okay because if the foods out of me then I cant get poisoned and I’m not fat. Because I can't get fat if the food I ate isn't in me anymore.”
Eddies crying and so is Richie. Tears slipping down their faces in steady streams.
Richie looks at Eddie, and Eddie looks at his. Richie puts his Left hand on his cheek.
“You’re not fat.”
Eddie smiles through his tears, placing his right hand on top of Richies.
“And you’re not worthless.”
Richie cries just a little harder.
It takes all of his power to say it, to puss three words out of his mouth. And he knows when he does it, there’s no going back. He can't make a joke out of this because making a joke right now is impossible. But he smiles and says it.
“I love you.”
Eddie feels bliss, pure happiness. A supernova explodes within him warming his whole body. The explosion comes right from Richie’s hand on his cheek. And his other in his hand. Eddie hates himself for feeling it. But he rationalizes that ‘food and germs make you sick, boys don’t.’ he can't get sick from Richie, but maybe he can make him feel better.
“I love you too.”
They lean in at the same time and it feels like a climax in a song, everything building up to this. Everything they know, they could abandon it all. Every word every doubt.
Because their lips meet in a symphony of repressed feelings.
If Eddie thought the confession was a supernova. Then this was the galaxy imploding in on itself. This was heaven, and he wasn't even religious.
the cotton cleared. It all evaporated out of Riches’s brain, he knew it wouldn’t last. But for right now, he was okay. Everything was okay.
And he had people, he had Beverly he had Bill he had Ben, Mike, and Stan. but most importantly. He had Eddie.
And for right now.
That was okay.