Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Richie Tozier was the only Loser who moved away,, but before the start of eighth grade he moved back to Derry. Since it’s been two years in my universe, it seemed right just to age them up. This is just how I see the characters, you can picture them however you want to! I am just one of those people who struggle with picturing characters in my head while writing. Skip over this chapter if you don’t really want to see this!! 

Eddie:

Richie: (mind the poorly edited glasses) 

Beverly Marsh<3: 

Stan the man:

Big Bill: 

  

Haystack: 

Benjamin: 

Now here’s just some extra characters who do appear a lot throughout the chapters!

Maggie Tozier: 

Wentworth Tozier: 

Conner bowers: 

 
Greta Keene: 

Mr Keene:

Sonia Kaspbrak aka, Momzilla: 

So that’s all! I really hope you enjoy the fanfic!

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“I swear Bill” Richie gasped as he watched the sharp shard cut through his palm. He bit down on his lip, Jesus Christ it fucking stung. Blood dripped and seeped onto the grass below. About a minute or two later,

Richie turned his head to,, Eddie. Eddie. His Eddie, his best friend. He watched as Bill approached Eddie with the glass, and god he looked so scared. Ed’s is probably ranting and screaming in his head, probably about how stupid and dirty the blade was. Bill signaled for Eddie to put his hand out, and of course he hesitated. The whole group stays in silence. Too quiet for the trash mouth though,,. Without thinking, Richie reached for eddies arm, which was coated in dirt and white bandages, from the... the house. And Richie interlocked their fingers. Holy shit why would he do that? His hand was obviously clammy and bloody and he just ruined the casting- and- and Eddie turned to Richie and smiled. A genuine, deep, adorable smile that warmed Richie’s heart. The same smile that always made Richie melt, that crushed Richie’s heart every time he gave that stupid fucking smile. The silent yearning, the feeling of always just wanting to hold Eddie forever makes Richie sick. But,, after that, Eddie surprisingly nodded to Bill and squeezed his eyes shut, signaling for Bill to get it over with. His held out his mud covered hand and gripped Richie’s hand, HARD. “Cmon spagheds, you got this.” Richie whispered into the smaller boys ear, as he watched the shard cut into eddies hand. Eddies breathing went ragged and Richie couldn’t help but feel sorry. Finally, the moment ended. Bill cut through and moved on to Mikes hand. But, Eddie and Richie were still linked. Two peas in a pod. One faggot monster taking advantage of a germaphobes fear, and a perfect, sad, terrified boy. In a pod, of fucking course. “Thank you, Rich.” Eddie whispered into Richie’s ear, and that was the only time in Richie’s life he had seen Eddie Kaspbrak be so vulnerable. His voice was breaking, and his eyes were welling up. So of course, Richie had to ruin it. To spare him of the horrible sick and lonely feeling when Eddie got to close. “Of course Ed’s, my girlfriend would kill me if I didn’t. Sonia has quite the temper-“ Eddie let go of his hand and punched him in the shoulder, while stifling a chuckle.

He was sick. He knew he was. Because all he wanted was to be. Just be with Eddie. Just lay with him in the hammock or on his bed while they read comics. Just being able to grab Ed’s hand made Richie feel whole. But. He wanted more. It made him bad he knew it did but he couldn’t,, not. Just not think about it. Richie’s mind would wander and every time it did, it wandered to Eddie. He fought it, tried to bury his thoughts about Eddie. But,, he couldn’t. Even just for a minute he led his mind wander, and wander until the thoughts became...impure. He let himself think, or dream, whatever you want to call it, of kissing Eddie. He only thought about it for a minute, but he always felt so... odd after. He imagined himself and Eddie, sitting together, with eddies hand on his arm, sliding it down and up while they kissed. It was always just a quick peck on the lips, but still enough to make Richie feel queasy and guilty. Homos and queers were wrong, but he doesn’t think of himself as wrong. Not really,, well- maybe. Was he a fag? He talks about girls all the time though, I- he didn’t know. He talked about girls like Pamela Anderson and he made up girl crushes to tell to his friends but, had he really *liked* girls? He never felt anything towards them. He can see pretty girls and acknowledge their pretty, but he didn’t *feel* like their pretty. But when he saw a boy, a pretty boy he felt warm and fuzzy. Especially Eddie. Richie couldn’t explain it, he didn’t want to. He prayed that it didn’t mean anything. Just puberty had him all fucked up. That’s what it is. These feelings would fade, they had to.

But alas, they never did.

“What do you mean your moving?!” Eddie screeched as Richie shared the news with the group, as they all sat together in a circle, listening to beverlys tale about her visions. “My dad told me last week he- he uh got a job offer in Philly. We’re moving.” Richie croaked, but of course that was a lie. What really had happened was that-

Glass. Glass was thrown towards his direction, but the older man missed. “You wanna act like a goddamed bitch? Go ahead and cry you little pussy!” Went screamed as he yanked his young sons hand and shoved him, roughly against the wall. “I can’t- take this anymore!” Richie yelled between broken sobs. “I wanna live with mom!!” Richie screamed. “You think, that she would want you? RICHARD. I am the only person who could ever tolerate your bullshit. SHE doesn’t want you- how could you? How dare you? I give you a fucking roof over your head-“

(you locked me out of the house last week and made me stay at bills)

“I give you food and water,”

( I buy the groceries)

“I put fucking clothes on your back!”
(I buy them from the thrift store)

“and you wanna pretend you aren’t living the fucking high life?! Go ahead, call your mother I don’t give a shit. But when you come crawling back to daddy, I’m gonna whip you so hard with my belt you can’t walk straight.” And just like that, he stormed off. Went slammed his study door and kept screaming down the hall, about how ungrateful Richie is. Richie was done, he couldn’t do this anymore. Richie wasn’t gonna take the beatings, and the screaming matches anymore. He couldn’t suck it up anymore. He grabbed the phone book and searched for “Tozier, Maggie”. He called his mom and begged her, BEGGED her to come get him. And she, she said yes. She’d come get him next Friday if he packed everything. She’d bring him to her and her boyfriend, bob’s apartment in Philadelphia. And that was it.

“But- why didn’t you-“ Eddie muttered. “I thought I had more time I guess- I didn’t realize how soon it would be.” Richie murmured. “I’m sorry.” He choked out those words, the same words he never said and shoved his face in his hands. It was silent, for a minute or two. But it felt like hours. Finally, Big Bill spoke up “We’re all g-gonna miss y-you Trashmouth.”. Richie sniffles and wiped his tear stained face on his arm. “Thanks Bill.” Richie winked at him and sniffled again. “Oh cmon man!” Beverly groaned and launched into a hug with Richie. She was sort of crying too. “Damn Bev! I always knew I was a chick magnet- but not like this!” That stupid joke earned him a giggle and punch on the arm- and Eddie, Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Promise you’ll call, and write??” Eddie said as he helped Richie pack up his suitcase. “Course Ed’s. Couldn’t stay away from Sonia for that long,” Richie couldn’t even finish before Eddie leaped forward, and hugged him. “I’ll really gonna miss you Richie, I really am.” Eddie leaned his head into Richie neck and held himself there, for a bit too long. But neither of the boys minded. “We’ll all miss you,” was murmured into Richie’s not. “I know I know I’m sorry- I have to Eddie” Richie buried his head into the nape of Eddies shoulder.

And that was it. The Losers hung out every single hour of every day until Friday came. Beverly, Eddie and surprisingly Stanley all cried when that day came. Bill even jerked some tears out. They all hugged, Richie and Eddie for a bit too long.

Richie wrote letters to all of them, the day before he left. He hid them in the clubhouse, one in the hammock for Eddie. One in bens favorite NKOTB albums, which Richie always teased him about because of how girly the music was. One in Beverly’s spare cig carton, the same carton Richie *almost* dropped in water twice. One in Stanley’s shower cap carton, the same shower caps he handed out like he was a teacher handing out pop quizzes. A letter in Bills flannel jacket, which he always forget to bring back to his house. Mikes letter was left in his favorite book, “ The shining”...

And then he was gone. He made a stupid face and gave a small wave to his friends as his mom pulled out of the driveway, and Beverly chased down the car with her bike and blew him a kiss. Eddie was riding behind her, he waved his hands and cheered as the cars speed increased. Richie sobbed in the car as they turned the block. He had to get out of that situation, but he didn’t want to leave the losers behind.

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He couldn’t stop crying, not for a long time. They kept in touch, of course they did. Twice a week for 6 months Richie would write letters to Eddie and the losers club. Eddie always wrote back, most of the time. Until one day, it stopped. No more letters no matter how many Richie sent to the boy he formerly called his best friend,,, no reply. A few days of waiting turned into a week. A week into 2, 2 into 4... and so on. He called the Kaspbrak residence but only Sonia picked up, always simply stating “My Eddie is busy right now, Richard.” She always angrily replied then slammed her phone back into the receiver.

“Fucking dickhead,, I don’t care.. how could he?” Angry mutters filled his new room as he blasted The Cure into his headphones. “How? Why?? How could he,, -“ Richie stopped himself there. Loud footsteps came down the hallway of the “cozy” apartment. That’s what his mom called it anyway, “cozy.” But that just means small in “Philly” talk. Didn’t bother Richie much though. He pulled the headphones off of his ear and watched his door creak open. “Richie? Hey- uh bud.” Bob said as he poked his head through the door. “Oh uh- hey.. Bob.” Richie half smiled as he watched the older man struggle to continue this extremely awkward conversation. “Your ma, she uh needs you. In the kitchen.” A flush crawled up the mans face as he stammered the last few words.

It was obvious he had no clue his girlfriend, Richie’s own mother had a child. Not before this last months.

“Got it Bobbie, thank ya kindly!” Richie clicked his tongue and winked. The boys face twisted, as he watched Bob flash a shy smile and shut the door. About a minute later, Richie was trotting down the tiny hallway into the open kitchen. His mother was sitting at the table with Bob accompanying her, them both laughing while Maggie held her coffee cup with both hands. “Hey honey!!” Maggie smirked. She had been trying to be more,, affectionate. In all truth, before all this happened, he hadn’t seen her for about 4 years. He got a card in the mail for his birthday, which was usually around a week or two late. But that was it.

“So,, I’ve been thinking.. since your a growing boy, and since this is your first year in Philadelphia,, you should probably get some new clothes. I kinda noticed yours are all-“ Richie cut off his mother. “Crappy?” Sadness clouded over the boys face. He felt ashamed of his dirty attire, but it wasn’t his fault. He scrounged up all the money he could find in his dads wallet and the coins in the couch cushions for cheap shirts and ill-fitting jeans. “I wouldn’t say that,,” Maggie noticed the miserable expression on her sons face. “If you wanted some new clothes- I’m not saying anything are wrong with yours but your gonna start seventh grade this year and your bound to get taller and-“ the bitter look on Richie’s face vanished. “Ok, sure.” Richie sputtered. He of course wished for new clothes, since all his were tattered and disgusting. Especially since his best shirt was ruined by alien clown barf and sewer water.

A few days later, and Richie had new clothes. Actually *new* clothes. Sweaters and t-shirts, button ups, well fitting pants and even a dress shirt. Maggie pleaded to let her buy Richie new shoes, but Richie felt guilty enough for letting her buy him all this. They got lunch and even talked about what happened in Derry. Not actually what happened with penny- the clown. Just he and Bill had a fight, and his best friend Eddie and- and he wanted to never stop talking. He talked his poor mother’s ear off until they both finished their food.

It was weird, being so close to his mother. Just a year before this he was sobbing into a tear stained pillow, because he felt so worthless, unloved. His own mother even left because of how much she despised him. That’s what his father always said, and Richie stupidly believed that alcoholic piece of shit. A thought always crossed his mind when thinking about his mother. When he thought about his parents divorce, her just leaving randomly with two packed bags after the papers finalized, he thought of one thing. “She knew, didn’t she?” Richie asked himself constantly. That’s why she left, she left because of me and my sick confusion. That’s the only conclusion that’s the only thing that would make sense, how could she know?! How could she?! How could she knew that he was ga -

By the time Richie’s thoughts slowed down, instead of going their usual 90 mph,. he had been too exhausted to keep crying. He just slept and wondered. And wondered for however long it took before he could pre-occupy his mind with a game or a comic,, or Eddie.

He couldn’t ask her why. He just couldn’t. God knows what’d she say,,. So to protect his stupid feelings, he never asked. Never said a word. Didn’t even tell her how he got a Philadelphia phone book and found her name, didn’t even tell her why he needed to leave so badly. But,, I think she might’ve understood.

**7 months in Philly*

Beverly was painting her nails a pretty burgundy when her aunts phone rang. “I’ll get it Auntie!!” Beverly jumped up and raced to phone, praying that it was who she expected. “Bevvy marsh here!” She said with a shit-eating grin. A moment later she heard a familiar mocking tone. Yep this is her Richie. “Bevvy marsh here” Richie scoffed and played into his girly voice. “Can it, Bucky Beaver.” Beverly rolled her eyes and blew on her wet nails. “Woah-hoh! Miss Molly Ringwald gets off a good one!” The boy loudly crowed and laughed his ass off. “Sooo... how you been trash mouth? How’s Philadelphia treating you?” “Treating me fan-fucking-tastic. So far, no murder alien clowns, no dead or missing kids, and no loony bully gangs who will beat you half to death for walking there way.” Richie happily proclaimed while he listened for the ginger girls reply. “Beep beep ri-“ “DONT YOU DARE!” Richie sarcastic yelled at her, while Beverly stifled a laugh in her shirt sleeve. “But for real Rich, what’s going on? How is everything?” She heard the sigh from the other side of the line. “Y’know I- I miss it a little bit. Miss you guys a shit ton.” Richie groaned.

(why’d I leave? why’d I leave them behind? they were the only true friends I had. If only my dad was at-least fucking sane I could’ve stayed. I miss them so much, but he’d kill me. He’d beat my brain in with his belt if I ever came back...)

“Sorry rich. I am kinda curious bout something though,,, “ Beverly blurted out. “Yeah? what’s up?” Richie stayed silent for about a minute, waiting for the other girls answer. “Bill saw your dad at the pharmacy last week. I thought you said you two moved to Philly together? Because of his job offer”.

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Fuck.

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Fuck.

Richie froze. He’d been caught, and there’s no way he could lie himself out of this. Beverly always saw right through him.

“We didn’t move together.” Richie croaked out after a good long silence. “What?” Beverly spoke softly and pressed her ear into the phone. “I- I went to Philadelphia to get away. From him.” Richie couldn’t believe he was saying this. He had never told anyone about his home life, as far as even Bill knew he grew up in a perfect, lovey-dovey home, only Stanley had a clue about it all. “From your dad?... Richie.. why didn’t you say anything sooner!?” Fuck Beverly. She was too understanding. Richie took a deep breath. He could feel tears welling in his eyes and his throat starting choking itself. “I don’t know.” Was the only thing he could mutter out before he was full on hyperventilating and sobbing at the same time. “Richie! Wait I’m sorry please don’t- I didn’t know-“ Beverly knew. She knew and she was judging him. He was a dirty-mouthed asshole who was battered by his fucking dad to the point where he had to move away from his life, his friends. His love. He choked through the tears a small “I gotta go-“ as he shakily put the phone back on the receiver. Broken sobs leaked out of his mouth and he barely balanced against the wall, so he let himself sink into the floor. “Im so wrong... I shouldn’t have left dad, i shouldn’t be feeling this way about boys and i shouldn’t be burdening mom with my terrible fucking presence. All i have done so far is cost money and whine- i should go back- what if dads getting killed right now, and i could’ve stopped it if i was there. Im gonna die all alone and have my mouth stitched, filled with maggots and dirt and mud- oh god what if Pennywise didn’t die and Pennywise is there and that’s why Eddie isn’t answering or maybe Eddie even knows- knows what a fraud I am,, im so- so terrible I’m so ashamed I don’t wanna be a homo, I don’t wanna be a queer it’s not my choice but why can’t it be?! Why can’t I be normal! Why can’t my family be normal?’ WHY. why can’t i- I- why can’t i breathe?” Is all Richie could think at this moment

He couldn’t breathe. It was like someone punched his lungs- hard. He gasped for air and struggled.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice. A terrible, terrible voice.

“Want a kiss Richie?..” the clowns voice chuckled. Richie shoved his hands over his eyes and sobbed uncontrollably. His breath quickly returned to let out a scream. “No! No you stay away you stay awa-ay!! YOU DON’T SCARE ME” He babbled.

Richie felt an arm on his shoulder, pulling him into- warmth. Shit.

“Rich! What happened! Talk to me what-“ His mother pulled back from the embrace. “Why are you screaming? What’s with the crying what’s going on?!” Maggie put her hand on her crying son’s face. Richie looked up at her, his bloodshot puffy eyes staring into hers. He looked side to side. His lip was trembling like he was gonna talk, but simply couldn’t.

Maggie looked helplessly up to Bob, who was standing in the doorway, with his jaw slacked and the groceries falling out of his hand. “Richard what happened? Was there a person in the house? Did- did you-“ Richie’s breathing slowed down and the tears stopped. “Nononono- I just- I think I was- sleepwalking and banged my head. While I was having like a nightmare.” Richie blatantly lied. Maggie stared him down, coldly in the eyes. “Or,, did you have a anxiety attack?” Maggie softly said. The young boy swallowed thickly. “What’s that?”
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Bev rode to the clubhouse to meet up with the losers.

“I’m a horrible person.” Beverly anxiously said whilst she picked at her scabs. Stanley stared at her for a moment, before looking back down at the book he was reading. “Richie called. And I said something stupid.” Beverly spat out, which actually caught Stanley’s rare attention. “Richie? I promise you Beverly, whatever you said couldn’t have bothered him that much. He’s Richie!” Stan grumbled and returned to his lovely chapter about sparrows. “I made him cry. He CRIED and hung up.” Beverly guiltily muttered. This caught the attention of both Ben and Eddie, who were both arguing about the safety of the support beams. “Wait,, Richie was crying? Why?” Eddie eyeballed Beverly. “...I shouldn’t say. It’s not my secret to tell. I just said something stupid and it upset him. A lot- and- and he freaked.” Beverly put her head in her palms and tried to ignore eddies angry side glances. “Is he ok now..?” A defeated Eddie said. “I don’t know,, I tried to call back but it went to the machine.” Beverly said. “Well I literally have no way to contact him so,, shit.” The frustrated boy groaned. “Why can’t you?”
“He just randomly stopped writing to me. I sent like 20 letters and he just never replied. It doesn’t bother me-“ Eddie lied to Beverly, maybe to himself as-well. “Stan,, can you try calling him?” Beverly glanced at Stanley, who was attentively listening, maybe for the first time ever. “I’ll call when I get back home. Jesus- Ive barely even seen Richie cry.” Stanley looked a bit worried.
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Richie hid on his bed, under the covers listening to his mother on the phone. “I don’t know what happened Dr. Wheeler- i was at the grocery store with Bob and I come back- and he’s shaking on the floor and screaming! He was sobbing and saying not to touch him- I think maybe he has an anxiety disorder? Anxiety it pretty hereditary in my side of family but I’ve never seen-“ He felt sick. How could i worry her like that? Anxiety disorder? Does that mean pills or therapy or is she gonna put me in a hospital- Richie’s face felt hot again and he buried his face in his pillow to try to stifle a small cry. A spike of fear hit him. He hated the idea of being treated like some loony, but at this point he kinda deserved it.

Heavy footsteps carried themself to Richie’s door. About a second later, there was a knock on the door. “Kiddo?” Bob said, with an odd tone of voice. The doorknob shifted, and the door opened. The kid who was all jokes and laughs, was cowering under a thick blanket. Richie saw from the corner of his eye Bob entering the room, but he was too tired to care. Bob walked near the small desk Richie had placed next to his bed. “Thats a nice- uh Knick-knack.” Bob said, picking up Richie’s Walkman.

No reply.

Bob put the Walkman down and sat next to the crying boy on his bed. “Richard, I uh- I know that it’s scary. Moving around and not being able to see your dad. And it’s- it’s ok to-“

“It’s not that.” The words were a bit muffled by the pillow Richie had so happily buried himself into, but Bob understood them just the same.

“Then what is it? You know you can tell me or your mother anything .” Bob said in a quiet tone.

No reply.

Richie sighed a bit then picked up his head, turning his body to face the older man. His eyes were still red and puffy, and tears stained his pale cheeks. Richie held eye contact with Bob for a minute, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Is she gonna make me go to a shrink or something?” Richie’s chest began to fill. Fill with ache, as well as guilt as he changed the subject. Bob took a deep breath and spoke softly,. “No, no of course not.” Bob glanced at the boy, who looked wrecked.

“Then why is she calling a shrink?” The words sounded angrier as they came out. “Richard-, I mean Richie- your mothers worried. She just wants an professional opinion about what she should do- to help you.” “It was just like a tiny bad little freak out-“ Richie huffed. “About what though, Richard?”

“Bobby-“ Maggie opened the door to the small bedroom. She sighed as she saw Richie’s tired complexion. “Bobby can you let me talk to Richie alone real quick darlin’?” The usually cheerful woman pleaded silently. “Yeah- yeah course.” Bob walked slowly to the door, shutting it lightly.
“I know what- what happened with your dad. I understand now honey. And trust me- we will go through this together. I am so proud of you for getting away from him, the way I did. “ Richie couldn’t help but tear up again and sniffle. He buried his face into his mothers sleeve. You do?” Richie muttered into his mothers sleeve, which was now stained with tears. “Of course. And you don’t have to go anywhere or talk to anyone but, you need to tell me,, did he- did he hit you?” Maggie looked at her son. “Yeah.” Richie wiped his glasses off on his shirt and ignored her glances. But he couldn’t ignore the tight feeling in his throat as his mother grabbed onto him and muttered hundreds of “im so sorry”s.

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*ring* *ring* *ring*
Stanley, Beverly and Eddie crowded at the small phone. The phone was pushed lazily onto Stanley’s shoulder, as they all quietly hoped Richie would pick up. “Maggie here!” A fake-sounding woman answered the phone. “Oh hello- are you uh- Mrs tozier?” Beverly’s breath caught as she realized Richie’s mother had answered the phone. Eddie and Bev heard soft murmuring on the phone, and a few “Uh-huh, and “oh alright” from Stan as he listened to the woman, who they all quickly realized was Richie’s mother. “Well thanks anyway Mrs- I mean Maggie. Have a good afternoon.” Stanley inhaled deeply and put the phone on the receiver. “Well?” Eddie anxiously said.

“Richie has a cold she said, and he can’t come to the phone right now.” Stanley bit nervously onto his fingertip. “Thats a lie. I talked to him like 2 hours ago and he didn’t sound sick.” Beverly guiltily said. “I’m not really surprised. He hasn’t been answering-“ Eddie was swiftly cut off by Stanley. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit- what’d you say anyways Beverly?” Stanley glared at the ginger haired girl. “I- I just asked about his dad and he freaked out and-“ Stanley’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Which was what nobody expected Stanley to say. “Well? What’s the big problem with that?” Eddie gave a small look to Stan. His question was met by silence. “Guys sit down a minute.” Stanley cleared his throat and sat the two losers down.
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. So, Stanley told them everything he knew. About how one night Richie had showed up for a sleepover at his house covered with bruises and cuts. How he sobbed into his shoulder and swore that it was bowers. But it was too obvious. While Stanley cleaned Richie up, he discovered a whole new side of him. Filled with resentment, but also compassion for his asshole dad.
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“Holy shit.” Eddie took a puff of his inhaler. “I kinda figured it out on the phone. I think that’s why he moved.” Beverly lit up the supposed “cancer stick” (or whatever Eddie called it.) And for the first time ever, Eddie didn’t yell at her for it. He just stayed silent.

“He beat ‘em? Like actually beat him?” Eddie looked uncomfortable as hell. “Why- why wouldn’t he say anything to- to anyone? We’re losers we tell everything to each other?”

(Why didn’t he tell me? I could’ve done something-“)

“Well- you know how hard it was for me to talk about my dad? I mean it’s kinda like that. Plus- Richie’s kinda reserved.” Beverly puffed away. She looked so upset, almost as upset the day he moved. “I mean- I should’ve known. He’s my- I mean- was my,, best friend” Eddie scratched at his bare wrist. “God it explains so much- the constant bruises- when he never let us sleepover or anything like that. I mean the day he left was the first time I even saw his house.” Eddie stared at the ground and kept scratching.
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Slowly, but surely, everyone lost contact with Richie. It started with some awkward phone calls, only lasting a minute or two. Then the letters stopped. And so did the calls. Richie was officially gone. Bill, Ben and Mike still had no idea why everything just stopped, but it was obvious to the other three.

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December, 1988.

Eddie puffed anxiously on his inhaler. “Oh give it up Ed’s!” Richie chuckled. “That’s not funny dickhead.” Eddie huffed angrily. “Why do you care so much if those guys in the movie theater are homos?” Stanley peered at the shorter boy.

“Do you know what *those* people do? Stanley they carry AIDs!” Eddie shook his inhaler once more. “Not all queers have AIDs. Just the ones who-y’know- do it.” Stan glanced to Richie, who was turning pale.

(*hesrightthosepeoplearesickimsickimbadishouldntinfecthimhesrightsickhomosdeservetoburnsickoslikemeareterrible*)

He lost focus on the trash mouth’s face as he looked back to the angry germaphobe who was fast-walking in-front of the other four boys. “Well you don’t know if they were doing it before they went into the movie theater!!” Bill and Stanley gave each other a knowing look as they both watched their normally loud, annoyingly funny friend go silent.

“R-Richie what’s going on?” Richie quickly turned to the others boys. “Oh- nothing.” Richie’s face contorted into a big, stupid, fake grin. “Are you seriously that grossed out by those two guys?” Stan scanned Richie’s expression. “What- I mean- I don’t really-“ Richie was quickly cut off by Eddie. “Yeah Rich- what do you think about that *type of people*”

“About what type?”

“You know- faggots. What do you think about faggots?”

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March 7th, 1991.

That conversation constantly replays in Eddies head. Guilt and anguish consumed him on that chilly Wednesday morning.

(*why had I said that? Did I put the act on too hard?*)

Eddie turned his head onto his pillow. He thought about it. About Richie. About how he *felt* about the other boy. The warm fuzzy feeling every time Richie met his eyes, joked and called him that stupid nickname.

Hell, he was a faggot. He was gonna burn for his illness, but that’s just what his mother said about every gay person, or. But,,, she had no clue.

Her prim and proper son is a dirty perv. Hell it’s definitely not uncommon to hear that from her- the constant “Eddie if you ever seen two pairs of *homos* on the street, I want you to RUN home,” or “God I hope those people find the lord”.

Wonders filled his mind. What would she say,, if she ever found out. It’s not like he was into *only* boys. There was some girls too. Like his small crush on Greta Keene and the time he dated Maxine Mayfield for about a week, maybe two. But there was also boys. There was Duncan, the older boy who worked at the pharmacy last summer. And there was Scotty Malik- the cute boy who was in his 6th period. But nobody could compare to Richie. The big-nosed, goggle wearing trash mouth had caught his heart and refused to let go. It’s been two years since he even saw the boy, and he still loved him. He was utterly, completely-

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“Fucked! We’re completely fucked!” Richie chortled as he watched his friend, Sonny cram another Reese’s down his throat. “Oh cmon- our football teams not *that* bad!” Zoey said as she slammed down on the game controls buttons. “Oh my god?! How do you beat me in Street Fighter Every. Single. Time!!” She groaned as she placed the controller on Richie’s mothers coffee table. “No clue Zeezee. Just raw tal-lent!” Richie laughed as she got up. “Don’t call me that jerk.” She walked up to Sonny on the couch and pecked his lips.  “Oh come on, if you guys are gonna bone on the couch, give me a 2 minute warning so I can go in the kitchen.” Sonny scoffed, and of course Zoey rolled her eyes. “Well it’s not my fault you don’t have a girlfriend. Maybe if you did- You would get it!” Zoey made a pouty face and threw a Reeces wrapper at the back of the other boys head. “Well- I just don’t want to be in a relationship- We’re going into eighth grade this year. I don’t have to rush anything.” Richie lied.

“Oh someone’s grumpy.” Sonny chuckled as he stared at the back of the younger boys head. “You know Tammy?” “Thompson?”

“Yeah! She likes you.” Zoey said as she watched the other boy make a gagging sound. “Oh come on! Are you ever gonna date? Ever?” Zoey groaned. “Is no girl good enough for your majesty?” Sonny laughed as he watched Zoey give him an angry glance.  “Mariah Carey is good enough. Just barely though.” Richie winked and stared at his now *very* mad girl bestfriend get red as he popped a chocolate in his mouth.

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“See ya ladies!” Richie said as Sonny and Zoe entered the stairwell. Sonny wolf whistled- of course he did as the door shut behind the two.

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Richie walked back into the apartment complex, and quickly cleaned up the mess his friends left behind, as he waited for Bob and his mom to be back from their date.

Richie walked into his bedroom and shut the door quietly. A small sigh left his lips as he trotted over to his desk. He quickly grabbed the small box that was hidden in his top, right drawer.

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He stared down at the picture and quietly moped. He missed them. He missed them so much, but it’s too late to call. He couldn’t. They probably hate him for gods sake. So now, instead of being with his true friends ever again, he has to look at a shitty Polaroid, Mike took 2 years ago and try to picture what it would be like if he stayed. He probably would be beaten half to death, but he would still have them.  Hell, what is he waiting for? He’s still hung up on his first love, from two years ago.  They all probably forgot about him.

Besides, he was the least popular in the group, Bill and Eddie were always closer- and Stan and Mike- and Ben and Bev. There was just no room for him. Suddenly, the front door opened. And in came his mother and her boyfriend, or soon to be fiancée from his understanding. He wiped his tears and quickly hid the box.

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Richie laid the table as he watched his mother prepare dinner. Bob mixed some lemonade sugar and water in a cup, while he glared anxiously at Maggie. They both exchanged anxiety-filled looks. “Richard- uh- we have some news.” She said as she plated the chicken and broccoli Stir-Fry. “What’s going on?” Richie replied while he laid his place mat down. “Just sit down a minute.” Bob patted on the chair that sat in the middle of the other two. Maggie set down the plates and grabbed Richie’s hand as he sat down. “So. This morning, I got a call. From the police department, back in Derry.” Richie didn’t know what to say, he just stared at her with concerned eyes. “Last night, at 10 pm- uh- your dad. He uh- passed away.” His mouth formed an “O” as he just stared at her. “How did he- was it an accident?” Richie whispered. “They said he- he shot himself, while he was drunk.” Richie’s face got hot, his lip trembled and he could feel his eyes burning with tears. “Oh god- oh god!” Richie stuffed his face into his hands. Small, broken sobs came from the boy. His wiped his face with his sweater sleeves. “I should’ve never- never le-hef-tttt!!” He cried out as he sobbed into his sleeve. “Oh god honey- it’s ok- it’s ok don’t cry!” Maggie jumped up to comfort the boy. He sobbed into his mothers arms, and he felt Bobs hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok- it’s ok- shhhh” she soothed the boy and let go, wrapping her hand around his face. “Listen Rich, we’ll figure it out….ok?”

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The rest of the week was a blur. Just worried looks from his friends during class, and packing his things for the almost 9 hour drive to Derry was all he could remember. His mother took off work for the funeral and so did Bob. He slept almost the entire car ride. He woke up after about 3 hours to-

“Bob- how do you think he would feel? Moving into that place?!”

“Maggie we have no choice. The apartment is falling apart! This is a new, FREE house. He even left it to you and Richie.”

“We can just sell the house Bob and repair the apartment-“

“What’s the point of putting that much investment into some where we don’t even own!!“

“What’s going on?” Richie tiredly said as he glanced around the car

“What?” Maggie whipped her head around to greet her now awake son.

“Nothing Hun- just go back to sleep.” Maggie said softly.

“Are we moving?” Richie yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Yes!”

“No!”

Two opposite reply’s from the both of them.

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Sharon put the phone back on the receiver and called her son down to the living room. “Bill- Come here  real quick.” She beckoned Bill from the steps. “W-what’s wrong?” His stutter had improved immensely, but it was still there. “There’s a funeral this weekend, on Saturday for that Tozier boy’s father.” “O-oh thats- that’s sad-“ “Oh it’s just awful. Poor boy. But- would you like to come with me to the funeral?” His mother remarked. “Is- is Richie going?” “I mean, probably. It was his father.” She shrugged as she watched her sons face light up. “Yeah! Yeah o-of course I’ll go!” Bill stammered as he ran up the steps. “Never  seen a kid so excited for a funeral.” Sharon whispered to herself.

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“So he’s gonna be here, to stay?” Eddie replied as he creaked back and forth on the hammock. “Y-yeah, but just for the funeral- I-it’s this Sunday! Did anyone else get an invite?” The entire group raised their hand. “I wonder if he’s gonna be ok to- to be back here. I mean- what if he forgot about us?” Beverly said quietly as she adjusted her khaki skirt. “He wouldn’t have- right?”…

The group was silent inside the clubhouse. “No way- it hasn’t been that long.” Stanley added. Eddie sighed and looked up at Bill. “I’ve missed him. A lot.” The shorter boy mumbled. “We all have.” Mike sat next to Eddie on the hammock and give him a small side-hug. “What if doesn’t remember IT?” Eddie nervously itched his arm.

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The Neibolt incident was something that was not to be mentioned in the clubhouse- or anywhere. They all swore off on never talking about it.

But maybe today, it was a thing to be mentioned.

Chapter Text

A bitter, old feeling smacked Eddie in the face. “Do you think he forgot?” The losers all looked around in confusion. “I mean- there’s no way. You’d definitely remember that- especially something like that.” Mike said as he patted Eddie on the back. “You know what this town does to people- I mean-“ Stan looked anxious as he tapped his foot onto the wooden floor. “Nobody could forget that. Nobody.”
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He awoke with a *thud* as he banged his fist on the car window. “Shit!” He grumbled as he looked around the empty car. He saw that they were pulled up to a gas station, and through the window of the station, he could see Bob and his mother inside. His fast paced breathing slowed as he tried to calm down.

He had a nightmare again. He had a nightmare every night since Bill killed It. So, 726 days in a row. Every night he dreamed about one of the Losers dying. It was different every night, but always used the same people.

Usually, it was something along the lines of him or one of the other losers being murdered in some terrible way by Pennywise. But every single dream, every night it was a different loser being killed a different way. Pennywise would drag them down into the well and eat them or bite an arm clean off, or something along those lines.

Rich sniffled as he stared at his now bleeding hand. He shook it anxiously as he watched Maggie and Bob walk out the gas station. His mom was grinning ear to ear and Bob was happily following her.

They opened the car door and Maggie immediately looked back to her young son. “I know this week is gonna be tough, sooo I got you a little something I think you might like!” The woman squealed as she handed the plastic bag to Richie. Inside the bag, it was two small bags of Skittles, as well as a small package, labeled “Game Boy”. “This darling man gave it to me for only $15.89!” Besides, your gonna want something to distract yourself.” She scanned his face for an expression. “This is so fuck-“ Richie looked up to his mom. “Uh- fricking cool. Thanks Mom, you too Bobby boy!” Richie smiled as he opened the small package.
“Wait- Is your hand bleeding?” Bob said as he pulled out of the gas station parking lot.
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With a freshly bandaged hand, Richie happily ignored his surroundings to play on his new game boy.

“Hey Rich?” He tapped his fingers on the wheel to the beat of “Uptown Girl”. “What’s up?” Richie looked up for a moment as he paused his game of super Mario world. “How would you feel,, moving back to Maine?” “Bob!” Maggie blurted out as she glared at her boyfriend. “Are we moving back?!” Richie beamed at the older man. “Bob- Rich it’s just an idea” Maggie could see out of the corner of her eye, her now very ecstatic son. “All of us? Here? Where would we live-“ “Your dad’s old place.”

The car was silent after Bob said that. Richie suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. He shuffled in his seat a bit and began picking at his cuticles. “Why?” Richie looked up at his now worried mother. “Well. That man- he left the house to us in the will. And since the apartment is,, not the best place, Bob thinks it would be a good idea to move here. For good.” She took a sip of her iced tea, before looking back to her son. “We should do it.” He said a moment later. “What?!” “See Mags? Even Richard wants to move here.” Bob smiled as he looked at the road. “Rich- are you sure?” “I mean yeah- it’s a free house-“ “that’s what I said!” The older man intervened. Richie started again, “it’s a free house and- and I’ll get to see my friends again!” Richie had let his game boy slinky off his lap onto the middle seat. “What about Sonny? And- and uh, that brunette girl-“ “they’d understand!” Maggie’s eyes darted back and forth between her boyfriend and Richie. “I just don’t know- Lets just, play the rest of the week out- and MAYBE- just maybe I’ll think about.” That was the final word, Maggie would say about it.
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Before long, they were pulling into a motel parking lot.
“Oh Jesus- how long were we in that car?” She grumbled as she cracked her knuckles. Bob opened the trunk and grabbed his bag and hers. Meanwhile, Richie looked up from his game to admire the scenery. A sudden overwhelming feeling of fear took over the boy, as he spotted a sewer grate, which was abnormally loose. He gulped and turned back to mom, who was now hurriedly unpacking the car. “Grab your bag Rich,, we’re about to go check in!” Richie stuffed his game boy in his Jean pocket as well as lazily sling his bag across his shoulder, then slammed the trunk closed
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Maggie flopped onto the soft bed, while Bob started unpacking. “Hey Mom?” Richie said as he walked into the cramped room. “Mhm?” She sleepily said. “Can I go skate around town? I already know where everything is!” The boy held up his tattered skateboard and shook it. “Mhm sure. Just be safe. And back by 6.” The woman yawned and turned onto the pillow. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Bob gave him a small nod as he walked out of the motel doors.
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He zoomed past the Freese’s department store, as well as the Great Baptist Church. Richie pressed his foot against the slick road and sped up.
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October 11th, 1990

“Shit!” Richie groaned as he looked at his now broken bike chain, laying across the sidewalk. His skinned knee, now peaking through his newly ripped jeans. “Nice going Rich!” Sonny said as he pulled up his bike next to him. “Is it broken?” Sonny looked over the other boys head. “Yeah no shit Sherlock, it’s broken!” “Calm it! Let me get a look at it-“ the other boy shoved Richie a bit and looked down at the bike. “Yeah that’s- that’s totaled. It took a bite of your wheel too- your screwed.” Richie groaned. “What can I do to fix it?” “Well nothing really- unless you wanna pay like $75 at Mr. Jennings to get him to fix it.” Sonny said as he peered at the boy. “Who has that type of money?” Richie groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Richie,,” Sonny thought for a minute. “Wait- I can get you something. From my garage, y’know how Will went to college last summer?” “Your brother? Yeah?” Richie said as he grabbed his broken bike chain form the sidewalk and started lazily wrapping it around the bikes basket. “Well I can give you his old skateboard if you want? He doesn’t use it anymore.” “The fucks a skate board?”
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Chapter Text

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It had a sweet light baby blue undercoat, with one of those stickers plastered on. You’d barely make it out, but it was a faded black-and-white picture of a baby Cupid giving you the finger.

“How do you ride it?” Richie said as he picked up and felt the smooth under side of the board. “It’s easy! Watch.” Sonny grabbed the board and demonstrated,, and-
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And he felt the breeze blow past him, as he rode into the town. He transferred onto the sidewalk, so he wouldn’t get hit by an ancient woman who could be considered legally blind. His head buzzed with thoughts, all racing through at 170 mph, the most consistent one though was “I need a cigarette .” Richie passed by the pharmacy and stopped. He flipped his skateboard against the side of the shop and walked into the alley. Richie dragged his hand against the wall and looked at the crate, still sitting there, as it did when they fixed up Haystack that day, still splattered lightly with bens dried blood. He groaned and walked forward back to the front of the store, and peered through large window. Inside was Greta Keene, still looking as bitchy as ever, talking to someone on the phone. She was playing with and twisting the dial cord, and popping her gum. Richie hid his skateboard by the bike rack and walked inside. Greta set her phone on the counter and said her line. “Welcome to Keenes Pharmacy, ready for all your pharmaceutical needs-“ she spotted Richie, curiously peeking through the stalls. “Wait a minute.” She mumbled quietly.
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Richie walked up to the counter and placed a lighter onto it. Greta bit her lip and looked up to the boy, who from her memory, had looked like a fucking frog , but now he looked,, “good”. She giggled nervously and looked up at him. “Are you- Richie Tozier?” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “That’s me.” The boy adjusted his glasses on his face. “Wowee,, I thought you uh- moved” she curled her hair with her finger. “I did, I’m just in town. For a bit, visiting family and that stuff
.” Richie chuckled and spotted down to the lighter he was trying to buy. “I haven’t seen you in so long, we were so close weren’t we?” She popped her gum again and let out a very girly giggle. “I mean-“

(The fuck we were? You coated my house with eggs and constantly bitched about Beverly or Eddie.)

“Probably. 6th grade was so long ago- I barely remember.” He tapped his finger on the counter again, trying to signal he was in a rush. One thing popped into his head as she began to ring up his stuff.

(I’m all out of cigs aren’t I? How can I get- wait.)

“Actually, has anyone ever told you , you look just like Gwen Stacy?” Richie said as he smiled at the now blushing girl. “I’ve heard it a couple times. You do kinda look like Peter Parker. Especially with your glasses. ” She giggled again, god will she ever stop? “Wanna try them?” Richie said. “Mhm sure.” She smiled and took them off his face, placing them onto hers. “How do I look?” She said, as if he could see. “As pretty as a picture.” As he went to grab them back, he “accidentally” knocked over the newspaper stand, that sat right next to the Marlboro packs. “Oh god- im so sorry-“ “It’s alright, Cutie” she winked and bent down to pick it up. He shuffled the glasses back onto his face and quickly pocketed the first pack of cigarettes he saw.
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As he walked out of the store, he admired the number that she had written on his arm.

“913-***-***” with “Call me, Peter Parker <3”

He fake gagged as he grabbed his skateboard, set it down on the sidewalk and skidded softly down it.
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“Oh my god! Sally I’m serious! He was in here like an hour ago. He is smoking! Seriously!” Greta talked loudly to whatever girl she is pretending to be friends with this week. A small groan left Beverlys mouth as she grabbed a pack of Tampax off the shelf. She walked straight up to the counter, but couldn’t help but to overhear Greta’s gossip from the back room. “Who woulda thought y’know? Bucky Beaver turned out to be a real-.” She giggled as she glared at the *slut* at the counter. “One sec, Sally” she popped her gum, dropped the phone and walked over. “You saw Richie?” Beverly said as she remembered the horrid but stupidly funny nickname Richie had been lovingly given by Henry Bowers and his other classmates. “Who knew you were so good at ease dropping, Beav-erly?” “Who knew you were so good at bitching, Gretella?” She snarked back and watched as Greta rung her up. Well, you just missed him. Don’t know how you could though, especially with how *you* are with guys.” Beverly rolled her eyes and grabbed the bag off the counter.
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He definitely had some time to kill. Since it was Saturday, and he had some time to kill before the fune-.

(dontthinkaboutitdontthinkabouthiscorpseandthegunandthehouseand-)

Before the funeral. He decided it would be the best idea to find a quiet place to smoke as the sun loomed lazily, probably close to setting in about an hour or so.
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So, his best idea was.. going to the kissing bridge. Probably not the greatest idea he’d ever had, but nobody was caught dead there. Kids only went there to make out and drink, but that was usually after 10. Since it was only 5:13, Richie decided it would be secluded enough to catch a breath. Luckily, so did someone else.
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He smacked his knee into the hard concrete, as he felt his hand scuff against the sidewalk. “You think you can just waltz back into town, and I wouldn’t see ya? Huh flamer?” The unknown boy said. “Connor what are you-“ “Shut up dude!” Connor bowers said to the stalky boy who stood next to him. “Connor? What the hell man?!” Richie croaked as he tried to stand up, but was immediately kicked down back into his hands and knees. The stalky boy kicked Richie’s skateboard about 10 feet away as he felt Connor pick him up by his t-shirt collar. “Don’t think I forgot about you Nancy-boy!” Connor picked him up just to slam him down once again. This wasn’t the blonde, curly headed cute asshole from the arcade Richie remembered. This was an angry dwindling dick who was gonna beat the shit out of him-

(justlikedaddidhuh?)

“Get the *FUCK* away from me!” Richie angrily said as he tried to get away. “My cousin told me all about you before he- … he told me what you are, and I don’t take your kind in MY town.” “Your town? Jesus Christ, you moved here like what, two years ago?” Richie smiled as he glared at the two boys. He watched as a grin stalked up the other boys face but quickly hid. “Shut up!” The foul-mouthed boy was met with a swift punch to the mouth. “Jesse- cmon dude grab him!” Connor screamed.
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Richie remembers his vision blurring, his glasses landing on the ground and knocking a few punches into Connors perfect jawline. Kicking that tall boy in the shins and making a run for it, skateboard in hand and his pack still unopened. Day one back in Derry, and he’s already stolen something, gotten his shit kicked in and got in a few good ones in return. Yep, back to normal. So, he walked home, much too tired to skate. With a now semi-swollen cheek, a bleeding hand as well as an equally bleeding knee.
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He read the clock as he quietly closed the door, in bright bold red it read “6:15” “phew.” Richie quietly mumbled, at-least he wasn’t that late. “Rich?” Bob said as he watched the injured boy shut the door. “What happened to your face? It’s filthy- are you bleeding.” Bob walked towards him, leaning his arm out to wipe the blood. Richie batted his hand away, “I fell off my skateboard, ran over a couple rocks.” He blatantly lied. “I can clean you up kiddo, Jesus! You look pretty wrecked.” “No! No it’s fine. You don’t need to. I got this Bobby!” Richie fixed into his “Australian” accent, which was really just him over unciateing every word. “You sure?” The other man looked a bit worried as he looked at the other boys swollen cheek, but quickly he spotted his bruised knuckle. “Yep. The med packs in the bathroom right?” “Uhm. Yeah.” He replied to the young boy. As Richie walked into the bathroom, Bob turned to look at his soon to be fiancée sleeping in the comfortable bed. He sighed half-heartedly and tried to ignore what he saw.
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It stung, of course it did, because he had to pour about what felt like 6 gallons of rubbing alcohol on his hand. “Fuuuu-“ Richie bit his lip as he turned on the facet. He watched the clear water turn a rosy pink as his blood washed through the drain. He turned to look at his face in the mirror. It wasn’t too swollen, some ice and he’d be fine. Probably wouldn’t even bruise, depending on how hard Bowers 2.0 punched him. He grabbed one of the gauze plates and laid it on his left hand. He wrapped the bandages clumsily around his hand, of course having a hard time since he was a leftie. Overall, for a newbie he did a pretty good job. Atleast he thought so. He turned to look at his knee, but a knock came at the door. Without opening it all the way, he cracked it open. “Yeah?” “I uh, found you a change of clothes. Those look pretty scruffed up.” Bob said on the other side of the door. He pushed the pajamas through the crack and shut it quickly. “Thanks.” Richie said as sweetly as he could muster as Bob shut it. Richie smiled a bit, but was a bit weirded out by the fact Bob was being so friendly. He turned back to his bandages and alcohol, deciding ultimately just to change after he cleaned his knee.
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He pushed his flannel patterned pants up his waist, a sting of pain shoved through him as he felt the clothes brush past his injured knee. He turned back to grab his shirt, but caught a glimpse of his back in the mirror. A sudden wave of disgust hit him, as he saw the belt scars littered all over his back, spanning throughout him like they were paint on a canvas. A choked sob hit through his throat as he touched his side, still staring at his battered back in the mirror. This wasn’t the time. He didn’t have time to break down or cry he needed to get up and change, but even after telling himself that he couldn’t. Some tears pushed their way onto his face and his breath shortened. Rich tried to quiet himself, leaning against the sink and shoving a hand against his mouth. He adjusted his breathing, letting it calm for a minute as he felt his chest heaving. Richie quickly grabbed the loose shirt and shoved it on, and rushed out of the bathroom as fast as he could.
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Chapter Text

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Richie shuffled in bed, tossed and turned endlessly throughout the night. Nightmares filled his head, flashes of pain and resentment screamed at him through his slumber. A dull throbbing awoke him at around 2:30, coming from his right hand.
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He stared down at the scar, basking in the moonlight. Memories ripped through his skull, the Neibolt house, the bullies, the arcade. Richie eyed his skateboard hopefully. He carefully shuffled out of the large bed and made his way to his bag. He grabbed a dark zip up, but his hands twitched as he reached for his cigs, but stopped himself. Richie shoved his hand into his pocket and made his way out of the motel room, closing the door quietly. If he got caught, oh well. He just needed a minute.
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He slid down the narrow sidewalk, admiring the houses he passed. He stopped short as he passed the apartments. Richie still remembered, sitting outside, staring through the window as he watched his friends clean up a ‘blood’ filled bathroom. Bill and that Ben kid cooing over some cool ginger girl. He couldn’t lie, Beverly was very pretty, very tough and charismatic. But, let’s just say people like ‘her’ aren’t his type, will never be. As he dissociated into memories he realized his skateboard was stopped, and he was just starting at the building. He stared as the familiar window opened, revealing a red-headed girl, holding a boys hand as she carried him over to the stairwell, giving him a small peck on the cheek as he made his way to his bike. A sudden flash of realization hit Richie square in the face,

*Thats Ben and Bev- Ben and Bev are gonna see me and think I’m a gross weirdo- some rando who just stared at them kissing.*

Before he could even think, he dived behind a large tree, as he silently watched Ben start to bike away. Richie admired Bens taller structure, he may have only grown an inch or two, but he grew into his face more, had better posture, more self assured, lost quite a bit of weight since Richie’s last seen him. Not to even speak of Beverly, the vision in her white tank top and turquoise pajama pants. Freckles scattered across her face like stars, and her red hair curled beautifully. A flustered feeling filled Richie, as he suddenly felt stupid.

*well look at them, they both got *pretty*, and fuckin’ look at me, a 5’6 twig with puffy cheeks and goggles.*

Before long, the blushing boy left his hiding spot, but not before he heard a “Richie?” The girl had said. A flashlight was pointed straight at him, “holy shit.” She said as she watch him slowly turn around. “Hehyyyy Bevvie.” Richie anxiously said as he gulped. “Holy shit.” “I swear I didn’t see nothing! I didn’t! I just saw your-“ Beverly tackled him into a hug, “YOUR HERE!” She squealed and grabbed his matured face, “and your gorgeous!” Beverly glanced over his face as she yanked him into another hug. “I could say the same, Jesus Christ!” Richie let out a huff and wrapped his arms around her. “So,,, didn’t know you and Ben were kissing up?” Beverly groaned and dragged him to the stairwell.
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“Where ya staying?” Beverly said as she blew the cigarette smoke out. “Shitty Motel, it’s called the Cmon Inn.” Richie looked at her. “Well,, how long are you gonna be back in town?” Bev said. “Probably not for too long,.” Silence breached their conversation, as Richie watched Bev puff away. “We all missed you.” Her eyes darted at Richie. “I still feel bad. About the phone call. I’m really sorry,, I had no clue, and- and I don’t blame you for leaving.” Beverly grabbed his arm, tugging on it softly, waiting for a reaction. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, nobody really did. I’m just glad-“ he stopped himself, letting his shallow breaths speak for him. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” Bev smiled sweetly and leaned on him. “Thanks Bevvy.” Richie muttered, barely audible. “Are you coming?” Richie said quietly. “Hm?” “To the funeral, do you know if anybody’s coming?” “All of us are, Me, Ben, Bill, Mike, Stan and Ed’s. But if you don’t want us to-“ Richie swiftly cut her off. “No-no it’s fine, I was kinda hoping you were,,…” it grew quiet again. “Everyone’s gonna be so excited,,, you won’t believe.” Bev gave a gleeful smile as she flicked some cigarette ash onto the floor. “Keep quiet about me being here! Make it a surprise, but just until tomorrow.” He gave a wink to the older girl. “That’s.. not fair.” She giggled a bit, “Eddie would totally freak if he found out I was lying about seeing you.” Richie took a deep breath. “Eddie, fuck, yeah.” He muttered under a chuckle.

Eddie. His Eddie. A spark of chemistry flickered through Richie’s brain. *Nonono, you can’t. Eddies a straight boy, and… and you kinda are. Maybe. Maybe not. Not.* a love-washed shade of pink filled his cheeks and the air. “You two were really cute together.” Everything in Richie’s head stopped short. Every. Single. Thing. “What do you-“ he strayed again, “What do you mean?” Richie quickly became defensive, but tried to hide it with a shit-eating grin and a fake laugh. “You two were super close. It was cute, you two were like best friends.” Beverly looked at the worried boy. Really looked. A happy sigh fell from her mouth.
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After 2 continuous hours of smoking and joking, Richie headed back at 5 am.

Rich placed his skateboard onto the neighboring wall as he staggered through the doorway. He worriedly looked from the right to the left, checking if either person was awake. How in two hours, could they not notice he was gone? Had they never even got up to go get a drink or something? A pit grew in his stomach, that he lovingly chose to ignore for his own sake. He shoved his jacket back into his bag and flopped lazily on the bed, feeling happy and numb.
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Chapter Text

It was finally that day. The endless stalling, waiting and nervous energy bundled up in a gift basket from hell, had so lovingly arrived at the front door mat. Even hiding away with Beverly, sneaking around to hide from the losers. They luckily never spotted them,, maybe
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He twisted his fingers from and into the choking hold that his purple-bluish tie had him in. His collar was itchy, his pants too itchy, his shoes pinching his feet into a similar color of his tie. Richie sweated through his dress shirt as their car approached the funeral home. His finger tapped onto the wet, glistening window. The ride was silent, so was the world. A ringing filled the air, as Richie watched his mom get out of the car.

“Rich? Bud? You gonna get out?” Bob said as he opened the boys car door. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah I just needed a second.” Richie snapped out of his dissociation to let himself step out of the car. They were quite a few people, surprisingly.
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Beverly finished brushing out her curls, as she clipped his earrings into place. “Bevvie?” Eddie said as he approached behind her. “‘Sup Eddie?” She replied as she focused onto adjusting her midnight black dress. “This,, is gonna be weird.” Beverly turned to the shorter boy. His face was flushed, and he was palming the inhaler in his front pocket. “What about it,? Are you not excited to see Richie?” She approached him, snapping his suspenders in the process. “No! No it’s not that. I just don’t know if he wants to see me. He’s been ghosting me, remember?” Beverly felt an itch in her throat and heart, yearning when to tell the truth. “That’s- maybe it was an accident. Or Derry was too painful to remember. If I had a chance to forget my dad, I’d do anything.” She picked fuzzies off the others boys frilly dress shirt. “It’s gonna be ok.” Bev reassured. A sudden voice called from the hallway “B-Beverly! My dads o-out front. He’s ready t-to drive us.” Bill was standing there, in his slacks and loafers. A beep came from the front of the building, assuming from Bill’s dad’s new Cadillac. They all rushed into the car.
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“So we’re meeting Ben, Mike and Stanny there?” Eddie puffed his inhaler nervously in his mouth. “Y-yeah, we couldn’t fit more than three in t-the back.” “Got it!” Beverly winked to the boys. A small silence filled the car, until Eddie spoke up. “You think Richie is gonna be ok?”Eddie squeaked out. “I mean why would he-?” Eddie scoffed. “Why are they hosting the funeral *here* and not where they l-live?” Bill interrupted the boy. Beverly gulped and picked out the scabs on her knees, sharing a knowing look with Eddie. “Maybe they have more family in Derry, and they couldn’t come out for the funeral?” She tried to reason with the boy, “But t-that doesn’t make sense-“ “it doesn’t matter!” She pushed the topic away, trying to keep Richie’s secret hidden. Eddie quickly started ranting about germs, just so he didn’t have to talk about the funeral.
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It was fucking awful. Richie and his mom had to stand by the door and shake hands with the seemingly hundreds of drunkards and assholes entering through the doors. Turns out, spending 78% of your time in a bar earns you a couple of buddies. A constant loop of “I’m so sorry for your loss” that was interrupted by the stench of alcohol. Each guest stopping him, with a story about how *sweet* and *tender* his dad was. How he, was *lucky* to have someone like him. Richie thought he would of wanted to puke, to cry, to scream, but.. the only thing he felt was nothing. Pure and complete numbness. The boy sunk into the cold denial of what was happening. Luckily, Richie snuck away from the depressing grasp of the guests. He kept himself busy, helping guests get drinks, while still gagging at the smell of alcohol, walking the kids to the bathroom, desperately avoiding the open casket, which of course shouldn’t have been open. Richie still watched the door for Bev, while the idea of seeing Eddie kept burning a hole in the back of his head. He still felt a tinge of guilt, curiosity of why Eddie had been ghosting him. Oh well. Only time will tell.
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“We’re here.” Eddie sighed out and kicked out the gravel below him as he stepped out of the car. Mike, Stan and Ben were all talking in a circle in the front of the home. He was nervous, of course to be around a corpse, but to see Richie. He shouldn’t be this excited, it’s a fucking funeral. And besides, that assholes been ignoring him for how long? But still, compassion entered his heart and so did a familiar flutter when it jumped at the thought of Richie. Beverly stepped out of the car, her auburn hair curling in the light. “Ed’s?” Eddie turned to see her, sparkling as usual. Bitch. “Let’s go up to the rest of the guys alright?” She said as she led Bill and Eddie. It was gonna be a lot to emotionally prepare for this.
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“Is anyone excited to see what Richie looks like?” Mike said, but the entire group quickly replied, a clammer of “Oh my god yes”. “I don’t know how we’re gonna do this. I feel bad enough. Poor guy.” Ben said quietly. Bev reassuringly put her hand on bens shoulder, rubbing a small circle. Much to Bills jealousy, who was still clinging onto the kiss they shared that summer. “It’s gonna be okay. Come on guys, Richie’s probably the life of-“ her voice trailed off. “The funeral?” Stan said as he rolled his eyes. “We have to go in at some point.” Bills dad said as he approached behind them. Sharon followed, as well as Beverly’s aunt. Finally, and anxiously, they all went in.
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Eddie looked around, a cup of fruit punch in his hand. He tapped his hands on the cup while he watched the group talk in a circle with a few adults. “Have you seen the uh, the son? We’ve been trying to give him our condolences.” Beverly politely said, while the sentence “That child beater fucker didn’t deserve Richie.”, repeated endlessly in her mind. “The boy? Yeah he’s up-“ the drunken man hiccuped. “He’s,, maybe uh.. by there-“ the man pointed to the woman’s bathroom. “Yeah. Big help. Thanks.” Stanley pulled the group away. “Where is he? I thought he was coming!” Stanley nervously whispered. “I don’t know!” Repeated someone in the group, but something else caught Eddies attention.
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Richie was here. He was 10 feet away, sipping on a cup of water and talking to his mom and, this guy who was holding Mrs- Ms. Toziers waist. There he was. He was really here.
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Eddie couldn’t help but stare, Richie looked… unreal, ethereal in fact. His big brown eyes were softly glowing, his big red lips, looking glossy and beautiful and his hair, *oh god his hair* fell into soft waves going down to the back of his neck, small strands covering his forehead. His porcelain features, quite beautifully fell together. His glasses, still massive and adorable in every way. The way he stood tall, like he knew he was gorgeous. Like he knew his staggering newfound height and the fact he grew into his features quite vastly was impressive, and of course, enthralling. He looks just like a dream. The prettiest boy in the whole, wide, world.