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His dad used to call him Eddie. The first time had been a joke, or something like it, but Eddie’d looked up at his dad and said, “I like being Eddie. Can you keep calling me that?”
His mother hated it. Eddie wasn’t a good name for a girl, she’d say. But Eddie’s always known that he wasn’t a girl, even if the people around him wouldn’t necessarily understand. When he met Bill Denbrough in kindergarten and told him that he’d rather go by Eddie, and he was a boy, thank you very much, he knew that their friendship was one he needed to keep because of how Bill understood and respected that immediately.
Stan went along with it when Eddie told him in junior school. At first he’d been confused, but he’d never been rude. He’d just wanted to understand, and Eddie’d done his best to explain it to him. Stan had supported him unwaveringly after that. “Eddie’s Eddie because Eddie says so,” was logical enough for Stanley, who was equal parts rational and empathetic.
Richie, on the other hand. Eddie’d told him a week after telling Stan. He remembers it ever so clearly, Richie telling him that he was pretty, and Eddie feeling something like shame burning up in him.
Don’t perceive me, he’d wanted to say. Instead, he’d glared at the floor, taken a few breaths.
Richie was best friends with Stan, which meant he was a good person. Which meant that Eddie could trust him.
“Don’t call me that,” Eddie had said. “I’m not a girl.”
“Oh,” Richie had said, looking surprised. “What should I call you then? What’s your real name?”
Hearing someone refer to ‘Eddie’ as his real name made him smile; made him feel somehow seen.
“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak,” he’d said. “I’m a boy. Don’t tell anyone. Bill and Stan know but they’re the only ones.”
“Ooooh,” Richie’d said, delighted. “That’s so cool. You’re a boy in secret. That’s really special!”
“You think so?” Eddie had asked, and Richie’d nodded, bouncing on his toes.
“I still think you’re pretty though,” Richie had said silently, carefully, as if testing the boundary. “It’s not just girls who are pretty, you know? Some boys are pretty, too.”
“I still don’t like that word,” Eddie’d said. “But thank you.”
“You’re cute,” Richie’d said. “The cutest boy in class.” He’d then raised an eyebrow, as if asking Eddie nonverbally whether that was alright.
“You need new glasses,” Eddie’d said, but he’d smiled anyway, confirming that he didn’t mind.
Usually, compliments based off appearance made Eddie feel like people were looking at him and seeing someone who wasn’t there, but the way Richie’d said it was different – like he’d really seen Eddie, seen Eddie on Eddie’s own terms.
Richie’d beamed back, when Eddie had smiled.
Eddie had known instantly that they were going to be best friends.
After that, when they met the other three Losers, things fell into place smoothly. It’d been easy for him to say “I’m Eddie, and I’m a boy,” and to meet their eyes, as if daring them to get it wrong, knowing that Bill, Stan and Richie had his back.
Bev had said, “Eddie, hm? Suits you,” and given him a high five.
Mike had given him a smile and a nod, and Ben had said, with respectful empathy, “I’ll remember that.”
~
Having six people who knew who he really was made it easier. It made it easier when he was called the wrong name in class, when he needed to go to the pharmacist’s to buy pads, when he needed to buy his first bra, when his mother smothered him (as if the only way to love someone was to shackle them to yourself) and called him her little girl.
It’s the confidence that he gets from knowing that the other six Losers support him that keeps him going.
Once he casually mentions to Bev how badly he wishes he had a flat chest, and the next day she gives him a carefully sewn garment for the upper body.
“It’s a binder,” she tells him as she gives it to him. She tells him what it does, and he can’t hold back a smile.
Moments like that, he knows he’ll be fine. That Derry, Maine cannot take who he is away from him.
~
His mom cries every time he cuts his hair. He keeps doing it, though. Sometimes, one of the Losers will help him with it.
Mike’s best at it, his hands are steady and he’s fast and efficient.
Stan takes it very seriously, cutting hair with quiet deliberation and steady intent.
Bill doesn’t usually talk while he cuts hair, but if he catches Eddie’s gaze in the mirror he always smiles at him.
Richie’s always excited to do it, and talks non-stop throughout the process, which Eddie appreciates. He trusts Richie to cut his hair properly and doesn’t mind the chatter.
Ben’s careful, asks Eddie a few questions while cutting it. Do you want it like this, should I cut this shorter, things like that.
Bev delights in it. The way she cuts his hair makes him feel like she understands the trust and importance of it to him.
I’m Edward Kaspbrak, he thinks, while his mother sobs, afterwards. He thinks of the placebos, swallows. I’m Edward Kaspbrak and I’m not giving up who I am for you.
~
“My dad used to call me Eddie,” he tells the other Losers one day, when they’re hanging out by the quarry. None of them are in the water – they’re sitting by the cliff edge, dangling their legs over. They’re fifteen and they feel undefeatable when they’re together like this.
“I’ve never met your dad,” Mike says, curiously but non-probing.
Mike would never force Eddie to divulge information he wasn’t ready to share – Eddie knows this. He wants to talk about it, though.
“He died when I was five,” Eddie says. “I still remember him, but it’s fuzzy.”
Eddie’s aware of one of Richie’s arms wrapping around him, of Bev taking one of his hands.
“He was the best,” Eddie says.
“Sounds like it,” Stan says, soft and empathetic.
“Did he look like you?” Richie asks. “It’s for science, I need to determine who the cutest Kaspbrak is.”
“Beep beep, fucker,” Eddie says tiredly, but he gives Richie a half smile.
Eddie’s thought about it a lot, about what would happen to his body when he’d start testosterone, once he’s safe and out of Derry. He likes to think that he’d look like his father. They have similar features, he knows – he can tell from the photos. Same big eyes, same mischievous smile.
“S-so,” Bill says. “He, uh, g-gave you your name?”
Eddie nods. “We were fooling around,” Eddie says. “I must’ve been four. And he called me Mr Eddie Kaspbrak, and even then, I knew that was it. So I told him to only call me Eddie, and he never called me anything other than Eddie, after that.”
“That’s really nice,” Mike says.
“Yeah,” Ben agrees. “It’s probably good, knowing that your dad would have supported you through all of this, if he were here now.”
Eddie nods. Decides to be brave.
“You know something fucked up?” Eddie says. “I wish sometimes that it was my mom who died instead.”
“Oh, Eddie,” Bev says gently. Everyone else is quiet. “There’s nothing fucked up about that.”
The other five Losers begin to pitch in their agreement, affirming him, and slowly, they wrap him in a group hug. Bundled together, he can feel all of their bodies and hear their heartbeats, and it makes him feel safe in a way that he never feels around anyone else, like they’re all a wolf pack or some other kind of single unit, like the solidarity and support provides enough insulation to protect him from the cruelty of the world.
Family, he thinks. He knows, in his gut, that’s what the other six are, to him.
~
It’s hard to wear clothes that are gender affirming when his mom still buys his clothes for him. It wasn’t much of a problem in junior school, when he’d been able to convince her to let him wear shorts instead of a skirt, and she’d thought he was being modest. Now, though, his cupboard is as feminine as it gets.
Eddie likes the feeling of chapstick, but that’s the only part of it he actually enjoys. Oddly enough, Richie’s the first one to pick up on it.
He knocks on Eddie’s door in the morning, earlier than usual, and Sonia complains and says nasty things about him as usual, but she lets Eddie walk to school with him as usual. Except they’re not walking to school.
They both walk to Richie’s house instead.
“This is in the opposite direction from school,” Eddie complains.
“We have time, Eds, don’t worry,” Richie says.
His parents aren’t really paying attention – they rarely are. Richie takes Eddies hand and pulls him upstairs, to his room. In a quick move, he opens his cupboard.
“Uh,” Eddie says. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t look comfortable wearing that,” Richie says. “I know that most of my clothes are really not your style, but better than what you’ve got on right now, yeah?”
Eddie swallows, feeling so touched that he isn’t sure if he can verbalize it. Silently, he goes to the open cupboard and begins to look through Richie’s shirts.
He finally settles on one that’s a bright orange-yellow, because it doesn’t have any pattern on it. It’s one of the only shirts that Richie owns that’s just solid colour.
Richie smiles gently, watching him.
Eddie smiles back. “Thank you,” he tells Richie, before heading over to the bathroom to get changed.
The other Losers notice immediately at school, but that’s the only visible change this brings. The bullying isn’t really any worse than usual.
One advantage is that the other Losers begin to lend him more traditionally masculine clothes on the daily, as a way of going around what his mother wants him to wear. Even Bev sometimes shops in the men’s section, though Eddie’s found out that he prefers wearing Mike and Richie’s clothes most because they’re both taller and broader than him and something about being enveloped in their clothes feels most comfortable.
Stan’s clothes are great too, aesthetic-wise. If Eddie had to choose a Loser whose style he would adopt, it would definitely be Stan’s.
And then there are a few weekends in which they all go to secondhand stores together, and Richie and Bev turn out to be really good at thrifting, and Bill turns out to be horrible at it. Mike observes all of them, amused, and pitches in when Eddie asks. Stan’s cynical about Richie and Bev’s taste in clothes, and Ben’s encouraging. They’re a pretty well-rounded group, and all of them together manage to compile a new wardrobe for Eddie, which they then give to Richie to keep in his closet so that Eddie’s mom won’t find out.
It’s one of the best days of Eddie’s life.
~
A few days before prom, one of the kids at high school whistles at him and Richie while they’re walking in the hall. They casually call Eddie his girlfriend, and Eddie flinches without meaning to, moving closer to Richie.
The two of them have always been more touchy-feely than the average people, so Eddie supposes he can guess how someone would jump to that conclusion. They’re always ready to wrap an arm around each other, lean against each other, hold hands, rest a head on the other’s shoulder and sleep – you name it, they’ve done it.
And while the idea of dating Richie would be sort of nice, Eddie thinks, warm in the knowledge that Richie’s always looked out for him and tried to keep him safe, being someone’s girlfriend makes a chilling burst of revulsion spike up his spine.
Richie would be a great boyfriend, Eddie thinks. But there’s no way he’s ever going to be his girlfriend.
Richie probably has the same thoughts, because his arm’s curling around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer.
“Kaspbrak’s not my girlfriend,” Richie says, and Eddie can hear the frown in his voice. “Kaspbrak’s the love of my life.”
It’s so unexpected that Eddie snorts, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter.
Once they’re alone again, Eddie turns to face Richie. Richie is decidedly not looking at him.
“Thank you,” Eddie says, knocking his hip against Richie’s. “The thought of being someone’s girlfriend really horrifies me.”
There’s more he could say – that he’s used to people perceiving him incorrectly but not the people who matter, that he’s afraid of intimacy with anyone really because of how society defines male and female bodies, and because of who he is, who he wants to be, how he needs to wait to leave Derry before being able to have a body that feels like his, how he doesn’t know what to do, waiting. That it’s too much to handle, sometimes.
Eddie wants to say, thank you for not letting that kid use the wrong words for me without exposing me, because he’s known Richie for more than ten years and he knows that Richie’d been deliberate in his response, not using Eddie’s deadname or the wrong pronouns but still correcting the other person.
Before he can say it, though, Richie shifts a little, seemingly uneasy.
And then, he says, soft enough that Eddie almost misses it, “The thought of having a girlfriend horrifies me.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, feeling something like pleasant surprise buzzing through him. “Would you rather have a boyfriend?” he prompts.
Richie’s blushing horribly when Eddie looks at him, but he nods, giving him a small, self-conscious smile.
Eddie wraps him in a hug, without even thinking about it, and Richie sighs, relaxing in his hold.
“Thank you for telling me,” Eddie says. And then, because he can’t ever let things be, he says, “Did you mean it earlier? About me, being the love of your life?”
Richie goes still in Eddie’s arms, and exhales carefully.
“If I did mean it,” he says, eventually, hesitantly, “would that be okay?”
“More than,” Eddie says, smiling. He pulls away from the hug to look at Richie, who’s smiling and blushing but still looks uncertain, almost disbelieving. “Be my boyfriend. Take me to prom.”
“Oh my god,” Richie murmurs.
It seems, for once, that he’s at a loss for words.
“Yes,” Richie says, eventually. “Yes to both.”
Eddie cheers, and Richie smiles.
Eddie realises he’s never seen Richie smile like this before; like a sunrise, radiant. There’s shyness in there somewhere, too. But mostly he looks like someone who’s never been sad.
It’s a good look on Richie, Eddie thinks. He feels warm, knowing that he put it there.
~
He goes to Bev for help with the suit.
It’s a little last minute, but Bev’s nothing if not quick, and she apparently had a design for a suit for Eddie lying around already.
“Was going to surprise you with that on graduation,” she tells him, as they go over measurements together.
“Thank you,” he says, knowing even as he says it that those two words are nowhere near enough for him to express how grateful he’s feeling.
He has a skip in his step as he runs back home.
~
Richie and Eddie tell the Losers together. There isn’t really much to it, but Eddie knows that Richie is nervous, despite agreeing that they needed to tell their friends that they were dating before prom. Richie’s sexuality is still something he’s learning to be comfortable with, and Eddie’s doing whatever he can to ensure he doesn’t push Richie into a corner or force him to do something he isn’t ready to do yet.
Which is why it’s nice when Richie pulls Eddie down into his lap, and announcing, without any warning, “Eduardo is my boyfriend and we’re going to prom together, take that, assholes.”
“Not my name, Trashmouth,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling. “Also, don’t call our friends assholes.”
Everyone’s supportive and congratulates them, as Eddie expected. Richie hides his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and everyone bundles them up in a hug.
“Thank you for telling us,” Bill says.
“I’m taking Mike to prom,” Bev tells them, after a minute of silence.
“Are you both together?” Richie asks, raising an eyebrow and giving Bev a look.
Bev laughs and knocks her shoulder against Richie’s. “No, but that’s the best way to get him into prom, since he doesn’t go to our school, you know? We were going to hang out as a group, Losers prom, since none of us had dates, but...”
“We’ll still do that,” Stan says. “After all, Richie and Eddie are both Losers, so it’s not like anyone’s ditching the gang for a date.”
Richie and Eddie exchange a look, and then both laugh, softly.
“We might ditch the gang for a bit,” Eddie says, smiling.
“Yeah, sucking face is top of my priorities list,” Richie says, smirking the way he does when he knows he’s going to be beep-beeped.
Eddie surprises him by kissing the corner of his mouth, instead. “Good for you, asshole, you can do that as much as you want.”
“How is this my life,” Richie says, gently, wonderingly.
There is so much naked awe in it that none of the Losers even make fun of him.
Eddie kisses the top of his head.
~
Prom goes well, without a hitch, and after that there’s college applications to do, and getting out of Derry to plan. Eddie spends a significant time that first summer out of high school lying around with his head on Richie’s lap while Richie plays with his hair.
The Losers work on their apps together, correcting each other’s essays and offering input. Stan gets anxious when it comes to writing about himself, so Richie helps him with his essay, and Eddie watches, wondering if it’s possible for him to love Richie more than he already does.
Eddie straight up lies to his mom about where he’s applying and finds himself employing a mad rush to the mailbox every day to intercept the post before his mother can see it.
Bev doesn’t even tell her father anything, and she has backup plans for work even if she doesn’t get into any of the colleges she’s applied to.
Ben’s a natural at college apps, which is a weird skill to have but which he uses to help the Losers when they ask for help or seem stuck.
Eddie and Richie apply for the same universities.
Bill applies for somewhere Far Away from Derry, Maine.
Mike’s still not sure what he wants to do, but applies for library science courses and history courses, and the other six know and believe that it’ll all work out for him.
~
One of those summer days, Richie and Eddie are in the hammock, alone in the clubhouse, and Eddie’s holding Richie against him.
“I’m so glad I’m going to leave this shithole with you,” Richie says, and Eddie hums.
“Me too,” he says. “What are you looking forward to, most?”
“Getting an apartment with you,” Richie says, giving Eddie a small smile. “Maybe we could adopt a dog?”
Eddie thinks about his mom telling him about his allergies, and about finding out that the placebos were placebos. She would never have let him have a dog, but then again, there were a lot of things she would never have let him do.
“We could, maybe,” Eddie says. “I’ll think about it.”
Richie smiles. “What about you, Eds, what are you looking forward to most when we’re out of here?”
“Being able to introduce myself as Edward Kaspbrak,” Eddie admits. “But our apartment’s going to be pretty good, too.”
Richie kisses his forehead.
“Our apartment’s going to be the best,” he says. “After all, it’s got you, my favourite person, in it.”
Richie’s smile goes soft, fond. “And I can’t wait, for you to be able to tell people. You don’t have to be a boy in secret, anymore.”
“You remember that?” Eddie asks, startled. A memory of six year old Richie Tozier holding hands with him at the playground suddenly comes to mind, unbidden.
“Yeah, I thought you were the coolest person ever,” Richie says, laughing. “Like a superhero. Might’ve had a little crush on you then, if we’re being honest.”
Eddie’s jaw drops. He turns to face Richie, who, looking at Eddie’s changing expression, seems unsure how to react.
“You’ve liked me that long?” Eddie asks.
Richie shrugs as if to say what can you do?
“That’s adorable,” Eddie says. “That just makes me so happy, I don’t know.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Why would I be upset?” Eddie asks.
They’re both silent for a minute, and then Eddie says, quietly and honestly, “I thought you were pretty cool, too. When we were both six.”
Richie smiles, and Eddie watches him, and thinks, whatever else happens, I have this, I have him. He sees me for who I am and he likes what he sees. And I see him too.
“Do you think we’ll all stay in touch?” Eddie asks, softly. “All of us Losers, that is?”
“We’re the best thing to come out of Derry,” Richie says. “That’s not going to end once we’re out.”
There’s a quiet, firm certainty in Richie’s voice as he says it, and Eddie knows Richie really means it, and isn’t saying it just to calm him down.
“You’re right,” Eddie says, softly.
He closes his eyes and lets himself believe it, too.