Chapter Text
“…but seriously, Eddie, you should totally ask her out this year.”
Bev’s voice yanked Eddie out of his thoughts, and he blinked in confusion.
He’d tuned them out somewhere around the moment they started talking about Stan’s new girlfriend (drawing random figures in the sand had been far more interesting to Eddie), but now, apparently, the conversation had moved on — to him.
“Huh?”
Bev rolled her eyes. “The girl from our English class? The one who kept asking for your notes last year?” She shook her head with a chuckle. “Were you even listening?”
Eddie forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, Bevvie. So what about the girl?”
“You should ask her out,” Bev repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s cute, and she definitely likes you.”
Stan, still lying on his back, lifted a lazy hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he glanced at Eddie.
“And very much, I suppose,” he mused, “because your notes are total shit.”
Bev sat up to smack him on the shoulder. “His notes are just fine!”
“Yeah,” Richie snorted, flashing a grin. “Compared to yours, they are.”
“Fuck you!” Bev scooped up a handful of sand and tossed it at Richie — aggressively, but carefully enough not to get it at Eddie, who shared the blanket with Bev’s new nemesis.
Richie immediately jumped up, promising her an excruciating death from drowning, but Bev was already on her feet, laughing as she darted away from him.
Bill shook his head at them and turned to Eddie with a soft smile.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you might fall for her after a date or two. And even if you don’t, it can still be fun.”
Fun, Eddie thought. Yeah, I fucking wish.
A few years ago, maybe he could’ve made himself believe that. Maybe he could’ve even gone along with it, agreed to a date or two, let himself pretend. But he was past that now.
And these conversations were getting so fucking tiring.
Eddie straightened his back and took a deep breath.
“Uh, okay, look,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I know you guys mean well, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to out myself like this, because it’s kinda fucking hard, you know? But…”
Everyone turned their heads, listening.
Richie froze in place, his arms wrapped around Bev — he’d been preparing to carry her to the water. She no longer tried to free herself.
They were both staring at Eddie now, waiting.
Eddie realised his hands were shaking.
It worsened each second, until he finally had to clench them together, trying to keep himself still.
And his heart — it was pounding so loudly, he was sure everyone else could hear it as well.
Would this change things? Would they still want to be his friends?
Words tightened his neck, suffocating him, and Eddie had to force them out.
It was too late to back off now.
“…but it’s getting pretty exhausting to hear these fucking suggestions over and over again, so I will just get this over with.”
His friends waited in silence.
“I don’t think I like girls. Not like that. So, it would be nice if you just stopped with this “let’s set Eddie up” thing. Please?”
Eddie kept his eyes locked on his hands.
He counted every second, waiting for someone — anyone — to respond.
But the silence stretched, thick and unbearable.
Why is everyone so fucking quiet? he forced himself to look up. They must hate me now.
Richie’s arms let Bev go, both of them just standing dumbstruck.
Stan propped up on his elbow, his head tilted slightly. Eddie’s chest tightened. Was he angry? Disappointed? Disgusted?
But then Eddie recognized the look. It was the same one Stan wore whenever he worked on a Statistics problem — he was deep in thought.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Thank you for telling us — that must have been pretty difficult. And it’s probably worth saying out loud — this won’t change anything in our friendship.”
Mike and Ben nodded eagerly, their expressions warm and supportive.
Bev’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Eddie thought she might cry. Instead, she darted towards him and threw her arms around his neck: “Oh, Eddie! I am so proud of you, you can’t even imagine.”
Bill followed her and pulled Eddie into a hug as soon as Bev let go. “We are proud of you.”
Stan reached out, smiling reassuringly as he clapped Eddie on the knee. “You should’ve told us sooner, really.”
Mike and Ben followed Bill’s lead, moving from their blankets onto Eddie’s to give him a hug.
And then, there was Richie.
He didn’t move. He didn’t say anything. His eyes were glued to the sand around his feet.
Eddie felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. That was exactly what he was afraid of.
The others must’ve noticed too because the warmth of the moment suddenly felt uneasy, and everyone looked back at Richie.
“So, are you, like, gay?” he finally blurted out. “Should we start looking for boyfriends for you now?”
An awkward laugh escaped him.
Stan furrowed his brow, quickly getting up. “What the fuck, Richie? That’s not funny.”
“It’s just a joke,” Richie said quickly, but he still avoided looking at Eddie. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his shoulders tense. “Whatever. Actually, shit— I totally forgot, but I gotta be somewhere.”
Before anyone could respond, he hurried towards his bike, throwing a hasty “See you guys later” over his shoulder as he pedalled off.
The silence he left behind was thick and uncomfortable. Eddie’s chest felt tight, his pulse thudding loudly in his ears.
The Losers exchanged glances, unsure what to say.
“Don’t pay attention to that dickwad, Eddie,” Bill said gently. “He’s probably pissed you didn’t tell him first. You know how he is. He’ll come around.”
Eddie nodded, forcing a smile, but his chest ached nonetheless.
Bill told him Richie would come around, and, in a way, he did.
He had been weird till the end of that day, avoiding not only Eddie, but the Losers altogether (even Bev), but then he went to his usual self.
Or, if you had asked Eddie, almost his usual self.
The change was nuanced, barely visible.
Richie still cracked his stupid jokes about Eddie’s height and Mrs. Kaspbrak, and when they were sitting at lunch, he was always next to Eddie, occasionally leaning on his shoulder, nudging him over his “rabbit food” diet, ruffling Eddie’s hair just to piss him off.
If you didn’t look too closely, nothing had changed.
But Eddie was looking closely and he didn’t like what he saw.
Richie started avoiding being alone with him.
He no longer lingered after group hangouts, waiting for everyone else to leave so they could spend more time together — just the two of them; he stopped sneaking through Eddie’s window to stay the night when the arguments in his own house got too heated.
And maybe Eddie was imagining it.
Maybe he was being paranoid, overanalysing every little thing — after all, it’s been barely a few weeks, and the school year had just started.
Maybe Richie was just busy with classes.
But maybe he wasn’t.
And this tiny, barely visible change — Eddie tried to act like it didn’t bother him. He told himself it didn’t matter, even if he wasn’t imagining anything.
But it did matter. Of course, it did.
Because Richie was his best friend, because the thought of Richie being — what, afraid? disgusted? — made Eddie feel sick.
Was Richie concerned that Eddie would make a move on him? Was Eddie, now that he was out, suddenly a threat?
Eddie didn’t want to believe that, but it wasn’t like there were many other explanations.
Was it even worth it? the thought circled relentlessly in his head. Was it worth it to come out?
Maybe he should’ve just shut up. Let them keep setting him up with girls, laughed it off, played along.
So they nagged him about dating a girl throughout the summer — so what?
It’s not like those suggestions were hurting him.
Maybe they would’ve stopped on their own.
Eddie sighed and shook his head as if he was trying to shake these thoughts out.
It was no use imagining what would have been — he couldn’t change the past.
Richie was still his best friend, wasn’t he?
And nothing else mattered.