Chapter Text
“Please tell me you aren’t doing anything next month,” Eddie says as soon as Richie opens their front door.
He looks stressed, Richie notices. Fidgeting with his crutches the most he can while using them. He’s dressed the same as he’d been arriving in Derry; a polo and, well, that was new; a pair of black skinny jeans.
They can already feel one of their eyebrows quirking up. Had he walked all this way? The thought of that sets off a flare of concern. Eddie glowers at their amused expression. Their amusement grows the longer they’re quiet, and the more annoyed Eddie gets.
“Just answer me, Dipshit,” Eddie snaps.
“Whoa there! For your information,” they start, “I am. But what if I was? What were you gonna do?” Richie gestures to Eddie’s entire body on you.
“Cry, obviously.”
It had been a year since they reunited in Derry, Maine. A year since Ben and Mike had carried an injured Eddie out of Neibolt. A year since Richie was the most terrified they’d ever been.
“We aren’t fucking leaving him!” Richie yells with as much fierceness as they could possibly gather. Their body is brimming with anger as they look up at their friends from their position on the ground. Eddie’s head was resting in their lap, the man himself blinking slowly and quietly. Eddie wasn’t supposed to be quiet. And there was no fucking way they’d rip Richie away from Eddie. They’d die with him if they had to, wither away to bones beside their love. They’d get Eddie out even though it looked like he’d already bled himself dry with how much had soaked into the fabric of their clothes and rock underneath them.
With how much blood was on Richie’s hands.
The other losers are jumpy and itching to get out, they can tell. They share looks with each other, all of them uncertain. The only thing Richie can think is that they better not separate Eddie and them.
Stan is the first to step up.
“Someone grab his shoulders,” he calls out. Ben and Mike both rush forward, taking over for Stan. They carry him back through tunnels, twisting and turning. Richie feels a small sliver of hope ignite.
They run out in time to see the old house crumble.
“Call an ambulance!”
“We don’t have time!”
Richie is getting in second, Eddie’s head back in their lap. Stan takes up the seat under his legs. Eddie’s chest is rising and falling only enough to tell he’s alive.
Richie cups Eddie’s face, desperately begging for him to open his eyes.
“Eddie, please!”
The memory fades there, no time being lost from the remembrance of it. The memory also serves as a way to quickly dampen their mood.
They close the door as soon as Eddie is through, nervousness and all. He’s actually looking better, Richie admits to themself, glancing at how the skinny jeans accentuate certain, ahem, qualities. Excluding that, there seems to be a bit more color in his face and he’s filled out a little from the worryingly thin man in Derry, to a man that actually looks healthy.
Richie feels incredibly proud of him.
“So,” they start, grabbing an orange and starting to peel. “What am I agreeing to do next month anyway?” They free one of the slices and pop it into their mouth.
Eddie glances back over at Richie from where he’s taking a cup out of the cabinet. He fills it with water and brings it to the island on the other side. He slides onto one of the seats, letting one arm rest over the other and setting his crutches against the island.
He looks away then, embarrassed as he rushes out with: “I need a fake boyfriend.” His cheeks redden.
Richie nearly drops their orange. A fake boyfriend? And he’s asking me? They think incredulously. So much for not being in the friend zone. They try to play it cool by raising an eyebrow.
“Why?”
Eddie blows out an exhale. “Myra won’t go through with the divorce because she doesn’t believe me,” Eddie says, not looking at them once. Then he seems to realize something. “Or, is it alright if I call you my boyfriend?” He looks up at them then, doe eyes questioning and bright.
Richie feels a bit conflicted with that, especially since they feel a bit more neutral at the moment, but they also didn't mind it too much. They’re insanely glad Eddie had asked, though. They decide on going for another term.
Richie shifts on their feet, looking away from Eddie.”Something else?” they ask timidly. Eddie nods, a small smile appearing.
“What about date? It leaves no room for questions,” Eddie suggests, and Richie smiles again at the small, warm feeling unfurling in their chest. For a second, they forget this is supposed to be fake.
“I like it.”
Eddie's smile turns warm. “Have you eaten yet?”