Archive of Our Own

Richie huffed as he looked down at the mess in front of him. His breath came out of a puff of white, as the bitterly-cold air around him froze his cheeks and numbed his toes, despite the fact that he was wearing four pairs of socks. He brought his hands out of his pockets and begrudgingly pulled his mittens off, exposing his warm fingers to the painful cold as he couched down and picked up the tangled ball of Christmas lights. 

It had been twelve months since he had last touched these lights. Richie knew for a fact that he had carefully organized them and put them away neatly in their boxes the previous year… which was why he was so confused as to how they had gotten this knotted and tangled from simply sitting in an untouched box in his attic since last December.

But, he knew that complaining about it wouldn’t undo the mysterious knots, and even though his fingers were growing colder and stiffer by the second, Richie quickly got to work on attempting to unravel the string of lights. 

It seemed to take forever, and by the time he was done all he wanted to do was just head inside and thaw out all of his near-frozen limbs in a scalding hot shower, but Richie’s work had barely started. He looked down at the long, now untangled string of lights in the snow at his feet, then up at his barely-decorated house, and hoped that he would be able to finish it all before the sun went down. And before he completely lost all the feeling in his legs. 

Forty-five minutes, ten frozen fingers, and three close calls of almost falling off of the wobbly ladder later, Richie had gotten halfway around his front porch with the lights. It was when the snow started falling again and the sky began to grow darker as the day grew later, when he was contemplating giving up for the day and just finishing up the next day, that a car door slamming shut and a voice speaking up from behind him startled him, making him nearly slip off of the ladder for a fourth time. 

“Are you sure you should be doing that on a day like this?”

Richie flinched, almost dropping the lights in his hand and having to grab onto the gutter so that he didn’t fall backwards off the ladder and crack his head open on the icy ground below. He looked over his shoulder, and though his glasses were slightly steamed up from his hot breath against the cold lenses, he could still clearly make out the figure standing at the base of his ladder. 

Eddie Kaspbrak was looking up at him, bundled up from head to toe and looking much warmer than Richie felt. His coat looked full, as though there were many many layers beneath it, and made Richie wish he had put on more than just a hoodie underneath his own winter coat. He was wearing a knitted hat that covered his ears, and with one of his gloved hands he reached up and pulled his scarf down from over his mouth, to reveal his smile and his pink cheeks. “I mean,” Eddie continued, “using a rusty, wobbly ladder that looks like it’s about to collapse any second, to put up Christmas lights on the snowiest day of the year doesn’t exactly seem like the brightest idea, don’t you think?” 

Despite the fact that just seconds earlier Richie was sure he was turning into a human-shaped ice cube, his entire body quickly flushed with warmth at the sight of the man smiling up at him. “Maybe, but I’m always up for a challenge,” Richie replied, forcing his cold and chapped lips into a smile. 

Eddie gave a skeptical raise of an eyebrow, but only shook his head as he let out a soft chuckle. “Well, just be careful up there,” he said, continuing up his driveway to his own house. “It’s supposed to start snowing soon, and I don’t want to have to be calling you an ambulance when you fall.” 

Richie laughed teasingly back, and simply lifted a hand up in response when Eddie reached his front door and sent him a wave goodbye before entering his warm home. Richie sighed, wanting nothing more than to retreat back inside himself, to hop into a hot shower and change into clothes much warmer than what he was wearing. But he also knew that if he called it quits for the day, if he left the lights how they were, even if he were to promise himself that he’d wake up bright and early the next day to finish putting them up, that realistically, it would never get finished, and his house would stay only half-decorated until after Christmas when it would be time to take them down again. 

So, forced himself to push any and all distractions from his mind, centering his focus on nothing but getting those lights up as quickly as possible. If I go fast, he thought to himself as he began stapling the lights to the edge of the roof once again, I can probably finish within the hour. If I’m lucky. 

But despite all of Richie’s determination, it was almost as though Mother Nature was dead-set on making sure that Richie had the most difficult time decorating. Within twenty minutes of Richie’s conversation with Eddie, strong gusts of wind had come along and blown snow from the roof all over Richie. And along with having to constantly shake the snow from his hair and wipe his glasses clean being incredibly annoying, the wind also nearly knocked the string of lights from Richie’s hand several times. Then there was the temperature, which seemed to be dropping by a few degrees every minute, and was slowly turning Richie’s fingers into icicles; it got to a point where Richie had scratched his thumb on a sharp, ragged edge of the roof, but hadn’t felt a thing, and didn’t even realize it had happened until he noticed the blood. 

And then, of course, came the snow. Just like Eddie predicted and had warned him about, it wasn’t long before snow started coming down around him. It wasn’t much at first, just a sprinkle of soft, sparkling white snowflakes- the kind of snow that Richie loved to watch from inside , with a warm mug of hot chocolate in his hands . But the gentle snowfall quickly turned into a snowstorm, the soft snowflakes hardening into what felt more like ice, leaving Richie’s skin cold and stinging in no time at all. 

When the sky began to grow dark and it was getting harder and harder for Richie to see where he was stapling his lights, he had positively lost all of his Christmas cheer and decided that maybe it was time to call it quits and end early after all. He had scattered a few decorations on his front lawn, hung up a wreath on the front door, and had put lights up across almost the entire front of his house- Richie thought, with only mild satisfaction, that that was good enough. 

He only had one last bit to do, to staple one last strand, and then he would be done. He looked at the edge of the roof, where the final lights would go, and did some mental calculations to determine if his arms were long enough to reach it. It would definitely be a stretch, but Richie was convinced he could make it; otherwise, he’d have to go all the way down to ground level, shift his ladder over a few inches, and then climb all the way back up, and Richie was far too tired and impatient for that. 

So, scooting over as far as he could on the ladder, Richie leaned over, the final string of lights in one hand and his trusty staple gun in the other, stretching his arms out all the way… until he could press the gun against the roof… all he had to do was pull the trigger, and then he would finally be fucking done-

And then came the biggest gust of wind Richie had felt that night. It was so strong, the sound of the harsh air rushing around him making Richie shiver just as much as the cold against his skin. He moved to grab back on to his ladder to steady himself, but his arms were so cold, frozen from the tips of his fingers to his shoulders, and snowflakes plastered onto the lenses of his glasses… and Richie’s hand missed the ladder. 

He reached out again, desperately trying to find something to grab hold of and stabilize him, but his erratic movements along with the ruthless wind was causing the ladder to shake. He dropped the lights and the staple gun, letting them fall down to the snow to prioritize regaining his own balance, but it was too late. With another harsh wave of wind, Richie’s foot slipped from the wet and snowy step of the ladder, and before he could try and grab hold of the roof one last time, he was falling. 

Richie didn’t feel himself hitting the ground. As soon as his foot left the ladder Richie prepared himself for the impact, but just as quickly as he slipped, Richie felt a sudden burst of pain across his forehead, and then the world of white snow around him turned dark.

*     *    *

When Richie came around, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer freezing.

Then came the feeling of something soft and velvety underneath his head, followed by the realization that he was lying on what felt like an extremely comfortable couch. He felt something weighted draped over his body, his fingers brushing against a warm and fluffy fabric as they curled into the material and held it closer to himself. 

It was all so soothing, so relaxing, that it almost made Richie doze back off to sleep… until a rational thought broke through that comfort, and Richie realized… 

He didn’t own a blanket that felt anywhere close to the fluffy one wrapped around him. He didn’t own the luxuriously soft velvet pillows that were cushioning his head. The couch had just woken up on felt as soft as a cloud and expensive and not at all like the old, used, and lumpy couch he had in his living room.

It was then that Richie forced himself to open up his eyes, as the realization dawned on him that he was not in his house. And while that first thought worried him, it was the next one that made things even worse, when he tried to look around to see where he was, and realized that he couldn’t see a single thing, because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He squinted his eyes, trying his best to focus on the world around him to try and make out his surroundings, but he came back with nothing but a bunch of blurry shapes- giving him absolutely no indication of where he had been taken.

He was beginning to come up with a plan for how on Earth he was going to break out of wherever it was he had been taken to while visually impaired, when he made the poor choice of sitting up, and all hopes of a sneaky escape were eliminated by a sharp dagger of pain searing through his head and down his neck. 

Richie brought a hand out from under the warmth of the blanket and up to his face, rubbing at his temples. And though he was still very much worried about where he was, it was with each ripple of pain through his skull that his memory started to resurface, and the last thing he could remember doing slowly came back to him…

With a loud groan, of embarrassment mixed with a little bit of pain, the image of putting up his Christmas lights appeared in his mind, and the last thing he could remember was losing his balance and his life flashing before his eyes, and then waking up… wherever this was. 

At that, Richie thought for a moment that maybe he was in the hospital. But that possibility was very quickly thrown out the window, and it wasn’t because Richie remembered that hospital beds and pillows were not as comfortable as what he was laying on, that hospitals did not give out warm and fuzzy blankets to their patients, that hospitals were not illuminated by the soft and gentle lighting around him, that hospitals did not have a comforting scent of cinnamon in the air. 

No, what made him realize that he was not in the hospital (and instead somewhere that Richie couldn’t quite decide between if it was much better, or much much worse) was a gentle voice speaking up from somewhere behind him. “Oh, thank god you’re awake.” 

A dark shape appeared in front of him, and Richie could vaguely make out the figure out a body. Richie watched as the shape came closer, and even when it sat down on the couch beside him, Richie’s vision was so horrendous that he still couldn’t make out anything more than some fuzzy outline of a human figure. 

But just because he couldn’t see didn’t mean that Richie couldn’t already tell exactly who it was sitting on the couch beside him. He just hoped that he was wrong, that the fall he had taken had messed with his head, as the other man on the couch continued to speak. 

“I was really starting to get worried,” he went on, his words rapid and his voice almost panicked. “I mean, it’s been over two hours, and of course I’ve been checking up on you and you seemed to be doing well, and-and your breathing, your heart rate was fine, but I was starting to think that being out for that long couldn’t mean anything good, and I- oh, shit, your glasses, here-” The figure moved, and then something was being placed in Richie’s hands. His fingers glided over the shape of his glasses, and he slowly raised them up to his face, tucked the legs behind his ears and brought the lenses in front of his eyes. In an instant his vision cleared, and after blinking a few times and digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands underneath the blanket to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, Richie realized that things were just as he had thought. 

It was Eddie who was sitting on the couch beside him.

Richie was still trying to work through his shock that he almost tuned out Eddie’s voice as he continued to ramble on. “One of the legs is a little bit loose, the left one- well, my left, your right- but I wasn’t sure if it was already like that or if it just broke now, but I guess you should be glad that you still have them at all, it took me nearly five whole minutes to find them in the snow after I-” Eddie cut off abruptly, his eyes focusing on Richie’s face, taking in the half shocked and half confused expression Richie couldn’t help. 

“Oh no,” Eddie said, sitting up a little straighter and his own expression going from slightly shaken up to fully worried. “There I go, rambling on about your glasses before even asking you if you’re okay, if-if you even remember what happened. Do you remember your name? Do you know where you are? What year is-?”

Richie held his hands up, shifting back on the couch to put some more space between himself and Eddie. “Okay, first of all, you need to stop and take a breath,” Richie finally said, surprised that he was able to get a word in. “With the way you’re freaking out I’d think that you were the one with memory loss.” Eddie gave a small smile at that, but Richie didn’t think that it was a response to his joke, and more likely out of relief that Richie didn’t seem to have sustained any major damage. “I’m okay, I think,” Richie continued, despite the fact that his head and his neck were throbbing with pain and his heart was beating against his chest at a speed that must have surely been borderlining a medical emergency. “My name is Richie Tozier, I live in Derry, Maine, it’s December nineteenth, 1990, I just probably just became the laughing stock of the entire neighborhood because I thought that putting up Christmas lights in a damn snowstorm would be a good idea, and…” He forced himself to look the other man directly in the eyes for the first time. “And you’re Eddie Kaspbrak, my neighbour.”

Except, he wasn’t just ‘ Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie’s neighbour’ . He was Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie’s funny and helpful and sweet and ridiculously attractive neighbour. He was Eddie Kaspbrak… who Richie had slowly been developing a little ( well, maybe not so little, he thought as his palms grew sweaty and the butterflies in his stomach went wild ) crush on ever since Eddie had moved into the neighborhood three months earlier. 

And now, Richie was lying on his couch. Which, under other circumstances may have been a dream come true for him, but when Richie remembered what had happened just prior to him waking up on Eddie’s couch… with heavy embarrassment, he began to wish he was anywhere else. 

Completely unaware of Richie’s internal panic, Eddie let out a soft sigh as he leaned back against the couch. “Good, that’s good,” he said with that gentle smile of his, the one that always made Richie’s heart flutter whenever Eddie would smile at him from across the street. “I may be alright at patching up injuries, but I probably wouldn’t be much good for anything more than giving you a bandaid and an ice pack.” Eddie’s eyes drifted from Richie’s face and up to the top of his head. “Speaking of which… may I? It’s been a few hours, so it’s probably time to change…” 

Richie had been so occupied with the painful ache throbbing through his head ever since he had woken up, that he hadn’t noticed the feeling of something wrapped around his head. He followed Eddie’s gaze and raised a hand to his forehead, where his fingers met the rough texture of bandages. Richie was never really queasy around blood, but when he pulled his hand away and saw the tips of his fingers lightly tinted with red, he couldn’t say that he felt too great. 

“It’s really not that bad,” Eddie said quickly, as though he could read Richie’s worried mind. “It’s a bit of a big scratch- my guess is that you hit your head on the ladder on the way down- but it’s not very deep. It probably won’t even scar.”

Richie let out a quiet laugh as Eddie reached over to the coffee table, where a small first aid kit sat. It was neatly organized, fully packed with about just as many, if not more , supplies that you’d find in a hospital. “Well, that’s a relief,” Richie said quietly as Eddie picked out a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors. “My looks are all I have going for me. I’d be out of a career if I got all scarred up.” Richie could almost hear his manager reprimanding him if he were to show up on set with a big scar on his face, about how they’d have to pay the makeup artist extra for her to cover up the blemish so it wouldn’t show on film. Half your viewers prefer your face over your jokes, Richie remembered his manager telling him the last time he came to work with a black eye and a swollen lip from a fight he had gotten into back when he was in his early twenties and just getting started in the world of comedy and acting.

Richie had made the comment mostly as a joke to himself, which was why surprise overtook him when Eddie paused his cutting of the roll of bandages in his hand, to look over to Richie with a smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too worried,” he said gently. “You’re too harsh- your material’s not all that bad. Well, some of your jokes aren’t really my taste, but overall you’ve got a pretty good talent for-”

Richie’s heart went from beating at an alarmingly fast rate, to feeling like it had stopped entirely, as all the blood in his body rushed to his face and made his cheeks almost unbearably warm. “You… you watch my show?” he interrupted. 

Eddie’s smile faltered, his eyes widening as his cheeks joined Richie’s, matching by flushing furiously to a bright pink. “I, um, well…” he started, turning back to the task at hand and continuing to cut up bandages, now with a shaky hand. “Sometimes, when it’s on. I’ve seen a couple episodes…” 

Surprise was hitting Richie just about as hard as he had hit the ground after his fall, jumpstarting his heart again and making his mind run wild. His show wasn’t exactly prime television, but it was still respectably popular, each episode raking in more viewers than Richie could have ever imagined he’d have when he first started out in showbiz. People recognized him on the street, asked for autographs, folks sent him fanmail praising him, and yet… 

None of the pride he felt about all of that came anywhere close to what he felt now, after finding out that Eddie watched his show. 

Eddie cleared his throat, setting the scissors down and picking up a bottle of rubbing alcohol along with some cotton pads. “Anyways, I should probably get that bandage changed,” he said quickly, the pink on his cheeks having calmed down a little, but still most definitely there as he continued to avoid Richie’s eyes. Richie only nodded, his mind still trying to process that Eddie had seen his show. And from the sounds of it… he had enjoyed it, as well.

Richie had to lean forward, tilting his head down slightly to allow Eddie to get to work. He peeled off the sticky bandage from Richie’s forehead, cleaning the skin with a warm cloth and dabbing the wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad. Richie had always hated this part of getting his injuries cleaned, and though he thought he was doing a decent job at hiding his wincing and pretending that it didn’t sting, Eddie was still able to pick up on it. “I’m almost done, just hold still a little longer,” he said as he pressed a freshly-soaked cotton pad against Richie’s already-stinging forehead. 

“So, as my rescuer and my witness, tell me,” Richie said, trying to distract himself from the pain, “how embarrassing was my fall? How much am I gonna have to prepare myself for all the laughing and pointing people are going to do the second I step foot outside?” 

Eddie’s expression softened, his smile faint on his lips but something a little more serious behind his eyes. “Actually, I didn’t see it happen,” he said as he began to dress Richie’s wound with the clean banadages. “I don’t think anyone did… you could have been in real trouble there, Richie.”

Richie’s eyebrows pulled together, the slight action triggering the pain in his skull once again. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, after I got home and came inside, I had work to do, so I was in my office,” Eddie explained. “I don’t like to sit for long periods of time- not good for your back or your knees, you know- so I would get up every so often, walk around the living room to stretch my legs. I’d pass by the window, and see you out there, up on the ladder… not having made much progress since the last time I checked.” Richie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t resist a small smile in response to Eddie’s teasing. Eddie shared his grin momentarily, but it faded as he continued. “Then, a while later I got up again and I saw it had started snowing, and when I looked over at your place I saw that you weren’t there. I just assumed that you had gone inside once the snow started, and I didn’t think much of it… until the next time I got up to stretch my legs and I looked out the window and noticed a pair of boots sticking out from a pile of snow on your front lawn.” Eddie paused momentarily, to take a slow breath and to reach for another bandage on the coffee table. “I ran over to your place, and sure enough there you were, knocked out and bleeding and almost entirely covered in snow. I don’t know how long you had been lying there for, but at the rate that the snow was coming down, if I left you for any longer you’d be completely buried. So, I hauled you up out of the snow and I brought you over here.” 

Richie stared at Eddie, partially in gratitude for pretty much saving his life, partially in awe for heroically, single-handedly dragging him out of danger, and partially in embarrassment at the thought of Eddie carrying him out of the snow, like he was some sort of damsel in distress. Richie couldn’t help it as an image formed in his mind, one of Eddie carrying Richie bridal-style in his arms. It was a ridiculous idea, one that he knew was absolutely not what had happened, and yet Richie still felt his face heat up again at the thought. 

Oblivious to the daydream forming in Richie’s mind, Eddie continued. “I know I probably should have called an ambulance- I mean, that’s the first thing they tell you in first aid, don’t move a person with a a head injury, call 9-1-1 right away- but you were already so cold, your lips and your fingers were practically purple, and the snow was coming down so hard I was worried that you’d completely freeze to death by the time the ambulance arrived. So, I thought it would be best if I just brought you over here, instead.” Eddie fastened the last of the bandages into place around Richie’s head, before pulling his hands away and sitting back on the couch. “There,” he said. “You’re all set.” 

Any embarrassment or amusement that Richie felt before at the thought of Eddie comically rescuing him from the snow, and subsequently taking care of him and his injuries, was immediately washed away and replaced by pure relief. He thought of the other very possible outcome of the situation: he thought of himself, lying unconscious in the cold, sinking deeper and deeper into the snow until a layer of white completely covered him. He thought about not waking up in the warmth and comfort of Eddie’s home, but rather the other possibility… of not waking up at all, of freezing away underneath all that snow until he was found days later when it would wash away, and it would be too late. Despite everything that Eddie had done to keep him warm, a freezing chill slithered down Richie’s spine. 

“Shit,” Richie said, holding the blanket closer to him. “Well, there’s my lesson learned about not checking the weather forecast before attempting to put up Christmas lights.” He forced himself to meet Eddie’s eyes, which were staring right back at him, still full of concern. “Thank you,” Richie continued, sincerity replacing the joking tone of his words. “You… you seriously saved my life.” 

The smile that Eddie replied with filled Richie with more warmth than any blanket could have given him. “Of course,” he said gently, and turned to begin packing up the first aid kit again. “Consider it… returning the favour.”

Richie arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

Eddie shrugged, twisting the bandages back into a roll. “For helping me move into this place all those months ago,” he said. “For offering your car and your time to go pick up my stuff from the storage unit when my moving truck bailed on me. For helping me get rid of that raccoon that was already living in my garage when I moved in. For lots of things.”

Richie chuckled, thinking back to all of those attempts at trying to get to know his new cute neighbour better. “None of that come anywhere close to what  you just did for me.” 

Eddie looked up at Richie, his hands still working on packing cotton pads back into a plastic bag. “Well,” he said, “if you still feel indebted, maybe you can make it up to me another time.” Richie thought he was beginning to short circuit, his mind unable to put words together, or even think clearly for a second, when Eddie continued, “After all, this house is nice, but it still has quite a lot of work to be done.” 

Richie could have slapped himself. Of course that’s what Eddie had meant. 

You better wash your mind out with soap, he told himself.

With the sting from the rubbing alcohol on his wound beginning to die down, but the throbbing pain still very much present throughout his skull, as well as his heart still racing fast in his chest and his mind running wild from what Eddie had just said, Richie started to want nothing more than to just lay down and turn in, to sleep off the day. When Eddie stood up to dispose of the used bandages and cotton pads, Richie’s gaze landed on a clock hanging on the wall, and shock ran through his system when he saw the time- it was nearly eight o’clock at night. He almost brought it up to Eddie that his clock must be broken, since Richie last remembered being outside when the sun had just started to set at around five o’clock, and there was no way it had been that long… until he remembered what Eddie had said when he had first woken up: “I was really starting to get worried. I mean, it’s been over two hours…”

Richie sat up straight on the couch, throwing the blanket off of his legs and forcing himself up. The room spun for a moment as he stood, and he blinked firmly while holding on to the back of the couch to prevent himself from falling over. “Thanks a lot for… well, everything, Eddie,” Richie said. “But it’s getting late, and I’m sure I’ve already caused enough trouble for you, I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I’ll be on my merry way-” 

Richie’s words trailed off as Eddie re-entered the living room, his hands clasped together in front of him and his eyebrows pulled together, a sort of regretful look in his eyes. “Ah, well, actually, about that…” he said nervously, looking off to the side. Richie followed his gaze, turning around to join Eddie in looking out the living room window… well, more like looking out half of the living room window. 

Eddie hadn’t been joking when he had said that the snow was coming down hard. In the time that Richie had been knocked out for, the snow had relentlessly piled up outside- and had risen halfway up the window. The streetlights outside illuminated the dark sky, and Richie looked up at the clouds above, full of snow, continuing to send down heavy sheets of snowflakes- and it didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon. 

“It’s blocked the front door as well,” Eddie said, moving across the living room to stand beside Richie and get a closer look at the window. “And with the way the snow is coming down, I don’t think we’d get very far trying to shovel our way out.” Richie noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Eddie was rubbing his hands together, almost in a nervous manner. “I know that it’s probably not ideal, but you’re more than welcome to stay the night here. At least, until the snow stops.” 

Richie thought about the whole situation. He thought about how long he’d been crushing on Eddie for, how long he had spent hopelessly pining over his neighbour he absolutely did not have a chance with. He thought about all the nights he had stayed up, with the image of a certain somebody’s big brown eyes and gentle smile unable to leave his mind. He thought about all the times he had worked himself up to finally make a move on Eddie, all the times he thought he had finally gained enough courage to pose the question he’d been dying to ask… only to chicken out at the last second, fumble on his words, and embarrass himself.

Richie thought about how long he had been waiting for something to finally happen between the two of them… but he had never expected that something to be getting snowed inside Eddie’s place.

Richie let out a breath and gathered himself to look at Eddie- and found the other man already looking up at him, his eyes wide with what Richie could almost detect as hope. “Well,” he said, resting his hands on his hips, “beats risking frostbite just to walk twenty feet across the lawn.”

Eddie nodded, his hands dropping back down to his sides and some tension melting out of his shoulders. “Speaking of, we should probably keep you warm,” he said, turning away from the window and beginning to make his way back towards the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, or tea, maybe?”

Richie gave a light shake of his head, keeping the movement gentle so as to not strain the ache in his neck, or displace the bandages Eddie had wrapped around his head. “Caffeine and I don’t go together very well,” he said. “Especially not this late at night.” 

Eddie brought a hand up to his chin in thought. “Well, that’s about all I have in the way of hot drinks… though I could just make some hot lemon water- dehydration can lead to hypothermia in some cases, when was the last time you drank something? I remember hearing that lemon water is a great way to stay hydrated, so with that and keeping you warm it would really be like hitting two birds with one stone-” 

Richie could have listened to Eddie ramble on about the benefits of hot lemon water all night long, but he figured that they could at least make something to drink first. “How about hot chocolate?” Richie suggested. 

Eddie stopped in his tracks, Richie’s words bringing him out of his worried little world of hypothermia and lemon water. He looked over at the other man, his eyebrows raised. “I don’t have any hot chocolate.” His tone was tinted with confusion at Richie’s suggestion, but also slightly apologetic, as thought he was sincerely sorry that he did not have any hot chocolate. Richie was pained at how adorable it was. 

Richie’s mouth fell open. “You don’t have hot chocolate? Seriously? In weather like this, hot chocolate is a staple!” 

Eddie have a quiet chuckle. “Well, when the weather forecast predicts a massive blizzard that could trap us inside for a couple days, hot chocolate isn’t exactly number one on my grocery list.” 

“And there’s your mistake,” Richie said, playfully pointing a finger at Eddie as he joined the other man in walking towards the kitchen. “It’s been proven that for snowstorms, stocking up on hot chocolate is just as- if not more- important than all that other stuff they tell you to buy.” 

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at that, and Richie saw the slight quiver of his lips that he could tell was from Eddie’s attemp at holding back a smile. “For some reason, I have a hard time believing that.” 

“It’s true- I’ll be sure to show you my sources another time,” Richie told him with a wink. “But, there’s more important matters to deal with now. Let’s see… do you have a chocolate bar?”

“Um… maybe? I got a gift basket from a client at work the other day for the holidays, I haven’t looked through it yet, but there’s probably some chocolate in there.” 

Richie clapped his hands together and he broke out into a grin. “Perfect,” he said. “Homemade hot chocolate, coming right up.” 

“Oh, Richie, it’s okay, you really don’t have to,” Eddie said, stepping in front of Richie with his hands raised in front of him, as though to try and herd him out of the kitchen. “I can probably figure it out myself, and you should keep resting, and besides you’re my guest after all, and what kind of person would I be if I had you prepare something-” 

Due to pretty much all of the conversations that they had had over the three months of knowing each other being rather brief, Richie had never before noticed Eddie’s tendency to fall into long tangents when he spoke. Richie sometimes did the same, mostly when he was nervous ( like when he spoke to his cute neighbour, for example!) , and though he always felt embarrassed about it once he realized what he was doing, all he could think about when Eddie began rambling about finding Richie’s glasses in the snow, or the benefits of hot lemon water, or how he would be a terrible host if he had Richie prepare drinks… was how adorable Eddie was, and how much it felt like Richie’s heart was about to burst out of his chest. 

“Hey,” he said, softly interrupting Eddie from his rant about good hostmanship, “you pretty much saved my life out there. The least I can do is make you some hot chocolate, as a thank you.” 

Eddie opened his mouth, as though he wanted to keep rejecting the idea, but after a moment’s consideration his expression softened, and he gave a slight nod. He led Richie to the kitchen, where a large basket, overflowing with various treats, sat on the counter. Richie had a quick look through assortments of cookies and chocolates in the basket, while Eddie helped him separate the goods into piles of things he could use and things he couldn’t. 

When the wintertime rolled around each year, Richie drank a probably embarrassing amount of hot chocolate for a grown man in his thirties, but it was one of the little things that made the winter bearable for him. He almost always opted for the powdered mix, the kind that would get him his drink as quickly as possible, and while it was always good, he always knew that it was never any match for the homemade kind. And as he gathered all of the chocolate in the basket that seemed the tastiest, Richie thought that Eddie only deserved the best homemade hot chocolate. 

He hadn’t made it in years, and when faced with the ingredients in front of him, for a moment Richie worried whether he would be able to do his mother’s famous recipe justice- after all, he had already determined that he was going to be serving Eddie nothing but the best , and he didn’t want to fall short on that. 

But once he got to work, and the smell of sweet chocolate and vanilla and cinnamon all mixed together in the kitchen, all of Richie perfectionist worries left his mind, and he felt like he was right back at home in his parent’s kitchen, standing up on his tip-toes to watch his mother prepare him a big mug of hot cocoa after a long day of playing out in the snow. 

Eddie mostly watched from the sidelines, offering his help every so often with cleaning up the dishes or grabbing an ingredient for Richie from the pantry. Even when Richie told him that he didn’t have to help, that he had already done so much and that he should go and take a break as well, Eddie simply brushed off his suggestions, insisting that he was enjoying his time in the kitchen. 

Eddie only seemed to fully relax when the two of them retreated back to the living room, when they sat down on the couch and Richie handed Eddie his hot chocolate, served in the largest mug Richie could find in Eddie’s kitchen. Eddie unfortunately didn’t have any whipping cream to finish off the drink, but he reassured Richie that he would make sure to stock up for next time. 

As Richie took the first sip of his drink, he tried to use his mug to cover his cheeks, in order to hide the pink blush that had spread across them at Eddie’s suggestion of a “next time”. 

Richie normally wasn’t one for giving himself big compliments, but as he drank the hot chocolate, he felt pretty proud of what he had made. Definitely nowhere near as close as Maggie Tozier’s, but Richie thought he had accomplished his goal of not horrendously messing up the recipe. 

And though he thought that the drink he had managed to throw together was tasty enough, Richie watched nervously as he waited for Eddie’s opinion. He watched as Eddie carefully blew a gentle stream of air over the drink, patiently waiting for it to lower to a temperature comfortable enough to drink, and then slowly raised the mug to his lips… 

Richie held on tightly to the handle of his own cup as Eddie took his own first sip, but any worries he had about Eddie’s thoughts on the drink promptly melted away when Eddie looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes bright and his smile wide. “Wow,,” he said. “You were right- hot chocolate definitely is a staple.” Richie grinned and raised his mug in agreement as he went back for a second sip. “You know, I don’t usually enjoy sweet things,” Eddie said, licking a drop of chocolate from his lip, “but this is quite delicious. I’ll have to get you to teach me how to make it, though I’m not very good in the kitchen…” 

Richie raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t like sweet things, but you still let me go and make a whole pot of hot chocolate? And you helped me find the biggest mug you have to serve yours in? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Eddie shrugged, looking down at the cup in his hands ( seriously, it was huge- Eddie’s hands could barely wrap all the way around it) . “Well, you seemed so excited about making it,” he said gently, hiding his sheepish smile by taking another sip. “Plus, it’s very good- and I’m not just saying that to be polite,” he added when Richie gave him a suspicious look. “It’s delicious, Richie. Thank you for making it- I mean it.” 

Richie still didn’t completely buy it; after all, he had gone the extra mile to specifically choose all the bars chocolate that would make the drink sweeter than normal, which he could only assume had to be unpleasant to someone who didn’t like sweets. But he didn’t push it any further, especially after Eddie made the gesture of taking a long, exaggerated sip of his hot chocolate to prove that he liked it. 

Sitting this close, Richie found himself noticing things about Eddie that he never had before. The soft pattern of freckles across Eddie’s nose and cheeks, like a tiny galaxy of constellations. The way that parts of his hair had a slight curl to it, while other areas did not- as if Eddie was naturally curly, but went through the trouble of straightening it out with products; it made Richie wonder what Eddie would look like with a full head of wavy hair ( adorable, probably , he figured). The slight wrinkles he had at the corners of his eyes, from what Richie could only assume was lots of laughter, the lines etched into his face from that smile .

All those details… Richie had never really noticed them before, but now, he found it hard to look away from them. And even harder to stop thinking about them.

When Richie only had a few sips of his hot chocolate left, he began to figet with the mug in his hands, and cleared his throat, interrupting the silence that had fallen between himself and Eddie. “So, Eds, can I ask you something?” 

Eddie looked up from his own cup, with a puzzled expression. Instead of answering Richie’s question, Eddie posed one of his own. “Eds?” 

Richie felt his ears grow warm, and he stammered out a reply, only realizing what he had said after Eddie had repeated it. “Uh, yeah, Eds. You know, uh, short for Eddie.” 

Eddie gave a small chuckle. “Yes, I’m aware of what nicknames are,” he said teasingly. “It’s just… no one’s ever called me that before. Usually people just stick to ‘Eddie’, you know, considering that’s already a nickname.”  

Richie almost immediately regretted what he had said, those worrisome thoughts running through his mind and telling him that he had completely embarrassed himself- not for the first time that day- by giving Eddie an unwanted nickname… but Eddie just continued to smile, and continued on. “What did you want to ask, Rich?”

That was a nickname-of-a-nickname Richie had heard many, many times, and while he always preferred ‘Richie’ over ‘Rich’ or ‘Richard’, he didn’t think that that one sounded too bad coming from Eddie. “What’s your deal?” he asked, forcing himself to speak to try and distract his mind from his racing heart. “Why’d you decide on this place to put down your roots?  I mean, Derry of all places… it’s a small town. It’s not exactly high on the list of any travel guide, and there’s not much to it to attract people to visit , let alone move here. Most people who willingly move out here are old folks who can’t afford retirement in Florida. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you to Derry?”

For a moment, Richie thought that maybe he had overstepped. After all, he and Eddie weren’t exactly close, or anything even of the sort. And though his curiosity was strong, that didn’t mean that Richie had any right to know the personal details of Eddie’s life. And yet… for the entire time he had known Eddie, he wondered the same question almost every time he saw his neighbour: Why the hell’d you move to Derry?  

Eddie thought about it, shifting on the couch so he no longer directly faced Richie. His mug was empty, but he still held on to it tightly. After a while of silence, Eddie’s reply came, spoken in a soft, slow tone. “I needed to flip my life around.” 

 Richie tilted his head in interest. His original question had technically been answered… but Eddie’s answer only left him with more. “Oh yeah?” he said. “What happened? Breakup? Mid-life crisis? You go through a sudden journey of self-discovery or something?” Richie had only been joking, especially about that last one- which was why it came as so much of a surprise to him when Eddie nodded, and replied with a weak laugh as he said, “All of the above.” 

Richie straightened up on the couch, suddenly wishing he could take back his poor attempt at a joke. “Shit, I’m sorry, Eds, I didn’t mean to-” 

But before he could go on an apologetic tangent of his own, Eddie cut Richie off with a slight wave of his hand, and shooting a genuine smile his way. “Oh, don’t be like that, we’re not throwing a pity party over here,” he said, sounding a lot more carefree about a breakup and mid-life crisis than Richie thought he would have. “It’s alright, honestly. It was all…” He took a long breath, before looking back over at Richie. “It was all for the better.” 

Richie raised an eyebrow, turning himself around on the couch towards Eddie, to show the other man that he was all ears if he wanted to continue, while also not saying anything to pressure Eddie to say anything more. Eddie seemed to be contemplating it himself, and Richie waited patiently for Eddie to make the decision, until Eddie slowly began to tell his story. 

“All my life, I had been… living it the way I thought I was supposed to be,” he said. “When I was a kid, I would always do what people told me- and when I grew up, I did the same. I lived the way that made other people happy, and for the longest time, I thought that if I did that, then I would eventually be happy too. For the longest time, I thought… I thought that everything I was doing, that how I was living was what I wanted. I convinced myself that it was. Mostly because… well, I didn’t know any different. It wasn’t until recently that I came to realize that I was really living somebody else’s life, not mine . That I wasn’t… as clichéd as it sounds, that I wasn’t being ‘the real me’. It was like I was constantly putting on a front, and it was exhausting. ”

Eddie took the final sip of his hot chocolate before setting the empty mug down on the coffee table beside him, taking a deep breath before he continued. “So, once I came to that realization- or ‘went through a journey of self-discovery’, as you put it- I decided that I had had enough of living a lie, and I decided to do something about it. I decided that I would finally take my life into my own hands, and live how I wanted to, not how anybody else wanted it.” For the frist time since he started his story, Eddie turned to look back at Richie, and he smiled. “It was the best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Richie nodded along, both in surprise at Eddie’s story as well as… awe. Amazement that Eddie had gone through what sounded like a difficult life, but had survived it. And not only survived it, but defeated it. Overcame it. Richie didn’t think that that was something that many people could do. “Wow,” was all he said in reply, which made Eddie chuckle, breaking down the serious tone that had built around them. 

“But, why’d you move here?” Richie further questioned. “I mean, after all of that, it feels like you should have ended that story by moving to someplace… well, someplace better than Derry .” 

Eddie shrugged, raising his arm to lean on the back of the couch, and resting his head against his open palm. “Well, it was sort of a spontaneous decision,” he said. “I was still quite caught in the high of leaving my old life behind, that I thought pretty much anywhere would be better than where I had just wasted all those years. I just… I wanted to get out of there more than anything, and I thought that any place would do. But I think, subconsciously, I settled on Derry, because I lived here for a while.” 

At that, Richie shot forward, his eyes wideneing. “Wait a minute, you lived here? When? I mean, I’ve lived here my entire life- how the hell’d we not meet before?” 

“Well, it was moreso visiting than actually living here,” Eddie explained. “I had an aunt who used to stay out here, and my mom and I came to visit her for the summer back when I was a kid- I was twelve, I think, so it would have been… jeez, all the way back in ‘71. I was only here for just short of two months, and I mostly kept to myself, so it’s unlikely that we ever crossed paths.” 

“Well, do you remember any of the other kids you met? Maybe I know some of them.”

“Oh, no, I never really made any friends when I was here,” Eddie said with a firm shake of his head. “I was always kind of a shy kid, and my mom… oh boy was she a strict one. She didn’t like it when I went off on my own, especially in a town she didn’t know and wasn’t familiar with. I wasn’t usually allowed out to play with the other kids by myself. Although… I do remember one time,” Eddie said with a grin, “my mom and my aunt went out for a lunch with some of their friends, and I got dropped off at the movies while they were out. I was supposed to stay there until my mom was done, but the movie I had chosen was rather boring, so I decided to take the opportunity to sneak out and go explore town on my own. Except, I didn’t make it very far, because I soon ran into what I assume were the town bullies. They chased me down the streets, all the way into the woods. I was pretty fast as a kid, but eventually, they caught up to me.”

Richie had a fairly certain idea of who the bullies that Eddie was talking about were, and thinking back to his own childhood experiences with Henry Bowers, the kid that everyone in town used to be scared of, Richie wondered why Eddie was recounting his story with a smile on his face. Nevertheless, he kept quiet and let Eddie continue. 

“They started to beat me up pretty bad,” he said, “and I was real scared. Scared of what they were doing to me, what they were going to do to me, and especially scared of what my mom was going to say when I came home with a black eye… until, another kid came to my rescue. He couldn’t have been any older than me at the time, but I remember seeing him stand up on the top of a hill nearby, and I’ll never forget what he yelled out: ‘Leave him alone, you fat ugly pig!’” Eddie gave a small laugh at the memory, a laugh that was more like a childish giggle. “I remember, I was in so much pain, and I was so scared, but when I heard that, it made me laugh. I never saw that kid again, I didn’t even really get a good look at his face, but I’ll always remember him. He really saved my ass. And all this time, I still remember what the bully yelled back to him as they let me go, he said, ‘ You’ll pay for that, Trashmouth!‘ And just like that, they left me alone and they ran off after him instead, and I remember-” 

Richie’s heart stopped in his chest. He had been enjoying listening to Eddie’s story, but with this sudden turn of events, he couldn’t help his interruption. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Did you say ‘ Trashmouth’ ?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, exactly. I always remembered it, since I never got the kid’s name, in my mind I always just thought of him as that… why? Do you think you know who it was?” 

Richie almost laughed. “Yeah, I think I do,” he said. “Trashmouth… that was my nickname growing up.” 

Richie watched as Eddie’s expression turned from curious to confused, then as his eyes grew wide in realization. “Oh my god,” he said softly. “It was you .” 

Richie opened up his arms in a wide gesture, the same thing he did every time he walked on stage to perform. “The one and only Trashmouth, live and in person.” 

“W-Wow, I… I don’t know what to say,” Eddie stammered. “For the rest of that summer, and even after my mom and I left Derry, I always wanted to find that kid again, a-and to thank him for… for saving my life.” 

Richie shrugged casually. “You’re only twenty years late, but don’t mention it,” he joked. “I had my own fair share of encounters with- how’d I put it? That ‘ fat ugly pig’ Henry Bowers, and I can tell you there were definitely times where I thought I was a goner as well-”

“No,” Eddie said, cutting off Richie and scooting closer to him on the couch, “I mean, you actually saved my life. I-I’m asthmatic, and back then, back when I was a kid, it was a whole lot worse, and when those guys were attacking me, it triggered an asthma attack. When I tried to get my inhaler, one of those bullies, he took it. They were using it as a toy, playing hot potato with it, and they wouldn’t give it back, no matter how much I was pleading. I really thought that was it for me… until you came along, and when they started chasing after you instead, they dropped my inhaler, and I was finally able to get a breath in. If you hadn’t shown up…” Eddie shivered. “ … well, I don’t want to think of what would have happened.” 

It had been so long ago, that Richie couldn’t quite remember it as precisely as Eddie… but that day was not a lost memory. He could faintly remember, walking home from the arcade one hot summers’ day and taking a shortcut through the woods, when the sound of someone crying for help, followed by Bowers’ familiar, cruel laughter rang through the air. He could remember running towards the sound, and he could certainly remember the sight of Bowers and his goons beating down on a kid not even half their size. He remembered shouting out that insult without even thinking, and he remembered his stomach dropping down into his shoes when the gang of bullies had turned onto him instead. 

But, he also remembered sitting on the edge of the bathtub as his mother cleaned up his scuffed up face that night, and thinking that it was all worth it, because at least he was able to help out that kid. 

Bringing himself back to the present, Richie met Eddie’s eyes again, which were wide with wonder and disbelief. “Well then, after everything you’ve done for me today,” Richie said, gesturing up to the bandages wrapped around his head, “consider it finally returning the favour.”

Eddie’s lips slowly broke out into a soft smile once again, and he gave a gentle nod of his head. “Alright,” he said with a laugh. “Well, sorry it took so long for me to hold up my end of the bargain.” He looked down to Richie’s hands, to the empty mug he held, and reached out for it. “Here,” he said, his soft hands brushing against Richie’s fingers as he took hold of the cup, “let me get you a refill.” 

Richie started to tell him that it was fine, that he could get it himself, but Eddie was having none of it. He was up before Richie could even finish his sentence, looking over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen with a triumphant grin tugging on his lips, and Richie couldn’t help but smile back, even after Eddie disappeared around the corner.

When Eddie returned with their cups once again filled with steaming portions of Richie’s hot chocolate, he turned the television on and suggested a movie to pass the time. Richie would have been more than happy to just continue talking to Eddie about anything and everything, but when Eddie slipped under the same blanket as Richie, and tucked his legs up onto the couch in a way that caused his knees to brush against Richie’s and their shoulders to just almost touch, Richie didn’t complain. 

The movie Eddie chose wasn’t something Richie had seen before, but it wasn’t very long into the film that Richie finished his second serving of a warm, comforting drink, and the whirlwind of that day was finally starting to catch up to him. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and though he tried his hardest to keep them open, it was a fight that he very soon realized he wasn’t going to win. 

It had been an exhausting day for his body, an exciting day for his heart and all of the strong feelings inside of him. When he finally gave up trying to fight himself to stay awake, he let his eyes fall shut, and it was soon after that that sleep overtook him, and wrapped in the warmth of Eddie’s blanket and comforted by Eddie’s presence at his side, Richie was perfectly fine with that.

*     *    *

Richie had been in the middle of a rather stressful snowstorm and Christmas lights related dream when he felt something shift at his side, and he was brought out of his sleep. When he opened up his eyes, they were heavy and stinging, and Richie brought a hand out from underneath the blanket to rub the feeling away. 

When his vision cleared and that straight-out-of-sleep disorientation faded, Richie looked around him. He was still in Eddie’s living room, with the television still on but something else playing- one of those low-budget soap operas that only played in the middle of the night. Richie was still wearing his glasses this time, and so when he looked up to the clock on the wall he was able to properly see the time, which read four in the morning. 

There was a painful strain in his neck from the position he had fallen asleep in, and an uncomfortable numbing feeling spreading across his bottom and his lower back, and Richie wanted to just roll over onto his side on the plush couch… but when he shifted his head slightly and fully took in the position he was in, he didn’t dare move. He had thought that the pillow his head was leaning against was much harder than the previous one Eddie had given him, until he realized that it wasn’t a pillow at all- but instead, Eddie’s shoulder. 

Keeping his movements slow so as to not wake the other man, Richie tilted his head up to look at Eddie, and all of a sudden he felt wide awake, the blood coursing excitedly through his body as though he had just finished running a marathon. Richie remembered falling asleep sitting straight up, with his head leaning against the back of the couch, but somehow in his slumber he had ended up sliding down the couch, leaning fully against Eddie’s body and using hos shoulder as a pillow. 

Richie might have been embarrassed for falling asleep in such a way… if it wasn’t for Eddie, who was leaning into him just as much, his arm and hand resting gently against Richie’s leg, snoring softly as slept, using Richie’s head as his own pillow as well. 

Physically, the position they had ended up in wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, and Richie knew that he would have a sore neck for the next few days from the angle his head was at- but he had no desire to move. Those few short hours that he had been asleep for hadn’t been enough to fully restore his energy, and the excitement of waking up beside Eddie was soon overtaken by 4 am exhaustion again. 

He pulled up the fluffy blanket that both he and Eddie were sharing, curled up a little closer to Eddie, and fell back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

*     *    *

The next time he woke up, Richie found himself alone on the couch. He was laying down, his head back on the soft pillow and the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, just as he had found himself the day before. He had to admit, he was a little disappointed to see that Eddie had gone, but was also slightly relieved that he didn’t have to face the embarrassment of the both of them waking up at the same time, and having to address the way they had fallen asleep. 

He lifted himself up into a sitting position, tilting his head around in all directions so try and stretch out the tightness. He stood up, groaning as he moved on to stretching out his legs and his back, before turning around to look out the window behind him. 

Sunlight shone through the window, blindingly bright against the snow. Richie was glad to see blue skies above, and although the snow was still piled halfway up the window, at least now it wasn’t getting any worse. Richie stepped away from the couch, looking around the living room and even poking his head into the kitchen to look for Eddie, but to no avail. He was about to call out his name, when the front door burst open before he could say anything.

Eddie came trudging in, a snow shovel in his hand and all bundled up, just like he had been the day before. His eyebrows were pulled together, his face scrunched in a frown as he rubbed his hands together and muttered something about the cold. But when he looked up, and saw Richie standing in front of him, all of the tension seemed to melt away, and he broke out into a smile. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” he said, his cheeks tinting pink from stepping out of the cold. “So, good news, the snow stopped this morning, and I was able to dig a path, all the way from my front door to yours.” 

“You should have woken me up,” Richie told him, stepping forward to close the front door for Eddie. “I would have helped.”

Eddie shook his head, setting the shovel down and pulling off his hat and shaking snowflakes from his hair, which was starting to curl. “You needed your rest,” Eddie told him. “Besides, I didn’t want you to have another accident out there.” 

Richie rolled his eyes at Eddie’s teasing, but he humoured Eddie with a laugh- after all, he made a good a point; Richie didn’t think he would be attempting any physical work out in the snow for a while. 

As much as Richie would have liked to stay, with the snow stopped, a clear path home, and all of his injuries carefully taken care of, he knew it was time for him to head back home. Eddie helped him get his coat and his boots, and saw him off at the door with one final goodbye. “Eds, I really can’t thank you enough for helping me out yesterday,” Richie said, zipping up his jacket. “For saving my ass, taking care of me, letting me crash on your couch… and before you say that it’s not a big deal and to not worry about it, let me assure you that it was, very much, a big deal. To be honest, I feel like I still have to make it up to you somehow.” 

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at Richie. “Well, if you’re feeling that strong about it…” he started, but his words trailed off, as though he was still trying to think of what to say next. Richie arched an eyebrow curiously, encouraging him to continue, and Eddie took a deep, preparative breath before his lips pulled into a hopeful smile. “Then you can invite me over sometime,” he finally said. “After all, you still need to teach me how to make that hot chocolate, remember?” 

It took Richie a second to realize exactly what Eddie was saying, but when he did, his heart did a loop-di-loop in his chest, and he was sure that his face had turned a pink that matched Eddie’s. “Okay,” he said, his cheeks beginning to hurt from how much he had smiled over the day he had spent with Eddie. “It’s a date.”

Eddie nodded, his expression softening with relief at Richie’s response. “It’s a date,” he repeated, taking a step back into the warmth of his home. “Get home safe, Richie.” 

“I’ll try my best,” Richie promised, beginning to walk down the path Eddie had created for him, taking his steps backwards so that he didn’t have to look away from Eddie just yet. “I’ll let out a holler if I need you to come rescue me again.” 

Eddie gave a small laugh, but Richie was too far away to hear it over the crunch of snow underneath his boots. When he had successfully made it the twenty feet across Eddie’s and his lawns and finally back to his own front door (with only one tiny slip on a patch of ice), Richie raised a gloved hand to wave goodbye to Eddie, who had remained standing at his door for Richie’s entire trek back home. Eddie returned the wave, and left Richie with one last warning smile before stepping fully back into his house, and closing the door behind him. 

Despite the freezing air moving around him, blowing against his skin and the snow underneath his boots slowly freezing his toes, as Richie stepped inside his home, his mind still full of all the memories from the night before, his heart was burning warm.