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Richie’s reached a point where he can barely look at Eddie anymore without being hit by the extreme urge to wrap himself around Eddie like an octopus so he can kidnap Eddie and lock him up in Richie’s room for the rest of their lives. The other strong contender is to run the fuck away from Eddie, very far away. It's debilitating, to say the least
He knew he was being an asshole when he turned Eddie down or canceled on him every other day. Richie knew that Eddie had noticed, but it felt safer to keep him at a distance than let him get too close. It felt really dangerous to let Eddie get too close. Eddie knew Richie too well, so it's much easier to keep him away and make sure he never found out everything Richie’s planning to take to his grave.
Not that he felt much better when he was away from Eddie. It's a constant struggle that Pennywise, unfortunately, was well aware of. He still woke up some nights with tear-soaked cheeks, trembling from bad dreams and remembering the crippling fear he’d felt trying to outrun the fucking Paul Bunyan statue. It was embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. He only hoped he wasn't as obvious to everyone else as he apparently was to IT.
It wasn't this bad before when it was just Richie and Eddie, friends forever, but recently, Eddie’s started making some noises about a girl in one of his classes. Richie listened to him like a good friend should and pretended it doesn't make him want to take a nose dive off a cliff. For a while there, Eddie hadn’t seemed much interested in girls and it had allowed Richie, in his most private fantasies, to pretend that Eddie might possibly be the same as him. Now, though, he knew he was truly alone.
It's one thing to be a loser and a completely different thing to be a gay loser. He knows people at school talk about him, snidely wondering, but as long as he never actually confirms it, he’s pretty sure he’ll be mostly okay. Every outcast gets called a fag at least once, anyway, so it's just dumb luck that they managed to be right for once. Richie, who's been collecting Playgirl magazines since he was eleven and has never, not once, felt attraction towards a woman, was unfortunately and undeniably a real, actual fag.
He hasn't told anyone. He’s never said it out loud, not even when he's completely alone. Maybe once he graduates high school, he can move somewhere really far away where nobody knows him. Somewhere where it's at least slightly less unmentionable than in Derry for a guy to have the hots for another guy. Then maybe— heavy emphasis on maybe— Richie will try to put his theoretical sexuality to the test.
Just the thought made him dizzy, so he mentally slapped himself, trying to get his head on straight. There were far more important things to focus on right now like coming up with another reason for why he can't hang out with Eddie after school today.
“Look, Eds, you know there's nothing I want more than to see your mom, but—”
“What is it this time?” Eddie demanded. “You’re going to take a four hour bath? Clean between your toes for the first time in your life? Because you should. And don't call me that.”
Richie always liked Eddie, but he especially liked when Eddie was mean. “Got it in one, Spagheds. But, no, really I—”
“I said don't call me that!” Eddie snarled. “Save your excuse. I have better things to do anyway.” With that, he turned and speed-walked away.
Richie watched him go, feeling relieved that he didn't even have to bother voicing his newest pathetic excuse out loud. But also guilty. Immeasurably guilty. Eddie had been excessively aggressive even for him and Richie knew that meant he was genuinely mad.
“I’ll see you at Bill’s house tomorrow, dude!” Richie called after him, but Eddie either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, because he didn't react. Soon, he was out of sight, so Richie turned away too.
Tomorrow was Saturday and Richie lived for the weekend. Mostly, this was because his dad’s office closed after 3 PM on Friday and didn't reopen again until 9 AM on Tuesday, so he didn't ever have to work over the weekend. Work in and of itself wouldn't be so bad if he actually got paid for his blood, sweat, and tears. His parents claimed that the allowance they gave him was more than enough for a ‘boy his age’ and 'just think of it like extra chores, Rich.' Sitting at the front desk three times a week and three hours a day as an unpaid receptionist was way more work than just extra chores. But his parents said if he did it, they could get him eye contacts, which he’s been dying for, so sit at that rickety old desk he does.
His excuse to Eddie had been something along the lines of needing to study, but he really just planned on dicking around at his house doing nothing more important than reading comics or watching TV. Maybe giving Bev a call, something he’s been doing more of lately. Then going the fuck to sleep.
His parents seemed almost happy that he’d begun spending so much time talking to a girl, even if it was a girl he couldn't see in-person. Of course, it wasn't like that between him and Beverly at all. Even if Bev liked Richie that way, which she doesn't, and even if Bill and Ben weren't already in love with her, Richie was way too bent for even a hot, cool, amazing girl like Beverly. He’d tried thinking of her that way for a bit, but it just didn't stick.
She was useful as a beard, but it was just a perk, not the reason he talked to her. It was easier, a lot of the time, to talk to someone who didn't live in Derry. Bev occasionally visited Derry, but she was mostly disconnected now from things that happened here. It felt like Richie could tell her anything and there wouldn't really be any consequences. Plus, Richie just liked Bev a lot, even if it wasn't in the way his parents wanted. She always picked up because, well, she was having a hard time making new friends and it, at the very least, left her with the free time to talk to Richie about as much as he wanted her to.
“Do you think I could come visit you in the summer?” Richie asked Bev. He'd decided, as usual, to give her a call.
“Yeah, I think so! I’d just have to check with my aunt,” Bev replied. “It’d be cool if you came to visit. There’s an ice cream place here that I think you'd like.”
“You know me, I’m Mr. Ice Cream,” Richie said. “I’m Mister Icicle, I’m Mister Ten Below.”
Bev just ignored him, a skill she'd learned to do with expertise since becoming his friend. “Do you think any of the others would want to come?”
“Oh,” Richie said. He kinda didn't want Eddie to come, but that also wasn't very fair. “Yeah, probably.”
“Why’d you say it like that? Do you think they wouldn't want to come see me?”
“No, no, no,” Richie said quickly. “Of course they would. It's just me. A me thing. I’m being… dumb.”
“You're not dumb,” she said instantly, “so what's wrong?”
“It's nothing.”
“Richie.”
“Beverly.”
“Richie.”
“Beverly.”
“Richie!”
“Jeez! Alright, lady,” Richie sighed. “It is dumb, okay? I just…" How did he word this? He had to be careful. He was always careful, but this required a little extra caution: Bev was too smart for her own good. Or, more accurately, Richie's good. A half-truth was likely the best bet, "I sometimes wish we could all… stay as kids, I guess. I feel like the others are all growing up and getting to experience things, but I’m still the same ol’ Trashmouth.”
“I’m sure that's not true,” she said kindly. “What kind of things do you mean by experience?”
“Like… dating, for one.”
“Who?” Bev demanded, clearly excited.
Richie frowned at the phone, cross that she suddenly seemed less interested in comforting him. “Well, actually, it's just Eddie. And he's not really dating her. Actually, I don't think he has a chance, but I try not to say anything so I don't hurt his poor, poor little feelings.”
“Don't say that,” Bev said quietly.
Richie felt bad immediately. “Sorry. I don't mean it in a bad way. Of course Eddie’s a catch, and if she doesn't realize it, it's her loss.” And what a loss. Richie would give a lot to be in her shoes.
“Right,” Bev affirmed, and Richie could tell she was nodding even if he couldn't see her. “So who is it? Do I know her?”
“Naw, she just moved here from the next town over. She didn't start going to school with us until this year. I don't know what the point is in moving one town over, but what the fuck do I know? I’m not an adult. I don't have a salary or a family to support.”
“So… okay, let me get this straight. You're in a twist because Eddie… likes a girl? That he’s not even dating?”
“Well, of course it sounds really stupid when you put it that way.” He couldn't explain to her why and how such a simple thing like that could hurt so much. “I even said it was dumb, but you forced me to tell you.”
“It's not dumb. I didn't say that,” Bev replied. “It's normal to feel jealous or left behind, but don't forget that everyone goes through life at their own pace. I also just don't think you have anything to be jealous of. If Eddie likes this girl and they're not even dating, all you have to do to ‘catch up’ is get your own crush. She doesn't even have to like you back.”
Well, he did have that part down. And he doubted Eddie’s ever felt anything for another person like Richie had. So in that sense, he was actually ahead, but that, obviously, wasn't what he was ‘in a twist’ over.
“You're right, as always,” was all he said. “You're so smart. We need more people like you in the workforce.”
It wasn't Bev’s fault that she couldn't arrive at the correct conclusion— he was withholding evidence from her. She’d started going to therapy since moving in with her aunt and it really, really showed. She was way too emotionally intelligent now, and it made Richie feel extra immature, but she also always seemed to know exactly what to say. If his numerous phone calls to her were any indication, Richie definitely exploited this talent of hers.
There was a pause from Bev’s end. “Are you sure you're okay? You know, if there's anything else you want to talk about, I’m always here.”
“Thanks,” he said. He meant it too. “I’ll take that into consideration. But now, ‘tis bed time.” He fake-yawned aggressively into the phone. “We shall speak again soon, m’lady.”
“Yeah, okay. Sleep well, Trashmouth.”
Richie didn't end up sleeping all that well, in the end. He’d spent far too much of the night tossing and turning and staring into the darkness above his bed. When he arrived at Bill’s house the next morning, he was the last one to show up, and everyone, already deeply involved in a conversation, greeted him only half-heartedly. He and Eddie used to show up together, but Richie had put a stop to that months ago. He’d told himself it was for the best as he’d watched the hurt flash across Eddie’s face when he said they should start going separately. They were almost adults now, Richie had said, and needed to be more independent. By 'they,' he'd really meant himself. Eddie had been upset, but he wouldn't want to be close to Richie anyway if he knew the truth. This was like a preemptive measure for if the worst possible scenario happened in which Eddie found out about— that.
Bill and Mike were goading Eddie into telling them more about his new girl. That was their new favorite thing to do, apparently, since Eddie had quietly let it slip in late October that he thought he might have a crush on Amanda from his math class. Even Ben seemed genuinely interested in hearing about it. Richie, however, was completely sick of it and wished they’d all stop. There were far more interesting things to talk about, in Richie’s opinion, like the weather or the state of the economy.
“The winter formal is in j-just a few w-w-weeks,” Bill was saying, “so if you're going to ask her, you’d better do it s-soon.”
“I’m not going to ask her to the formal!” Eddie yelled, his face red.
“Eddie doesn't have to ask her if he doesn't want to,” Richie interjected, annoyed.
“He does want to,” Bill argued.
“I think he just needs a little push,” Mike said.
“The formal seems like a lot of fun,” Ben added, which was really just the fucking cherry on top.
Eddie didn't even seem grateful for Richie’s help, so Richie huffed and turned away from the group to climb into Bill’s bean bag chair. He grabbed a comic (Batman: The Dark Knight Returns) and studiously pretended to read it as the others continued their conversation sans Richie.
“I can help you plan it if you want, Eddie,” Mike offered.
“We can m-m-make a proposal s-sign and everything,” Bill grinned, and the others laughed.
“Flowers, too!” Ben added brightly.
“Guys,” Eddie whined. “If I did all that and she said no, I would actually kill myself.”
“If she s-said no,” Bill stressed.
Eddie's only had a crush once before, when they were in third grade. He’d spent the entire first half of the school year obsessed with the girl who sat next to him in homeroom. Her name was Lisa, and she was blonde, and Richie had hated her so much, even if he hadn't quite understood why at the time. Not like he does now, anyway. Lisa had seemed to like Eddie enough until January came and then she had unceremoniously rejected Eddie in the cafeteria, claiming that she was now dating her next-door neighbor Zach. It took Eddie a while to get over her, but get over it he did, and he hadn't liked another girl since. Until now.
Richie’s third-grade hatred for Lisa had been well-known by his friends, and that had also been around the time that he developed his reputation for being creepy and sexist. His friends chalked up his neverending lack of interest in dating girls to a juvenile ‘girls have cooties’ kind of thing and they had spent all of eighth grade frequently admonishing him for it.
“You’ll n-never get a girlfriend if y-you don't change your attitude towards g-girls,” Bill had told him.
“Richie couldn't get a girlfriend even if he tried,” Eddie had scoffed.
“That's not true!” Richie had said defensively. Maybe if he tried. “For one, Eds, your mom was pretty desperate for me last night.”
“Shut up, Richie!” Eddie had screeched.
“At least stop making ‘your mom’ and pussy jokes,” Stan had said. “Please.”
“Not on your life, Stanley,” Richie had replied. “That's grade-A material right there.”
“My grandmother says those kinds of jokes are demeaning towards women,” Ben had said.
“Your grandmother can suck this dick.”
Apparently, that had finally crossed the line, so Richie never made another joke about Ben’s grandma and stuck strictly to jokes about Eddie’s mom from then on.
They stopped bringing up Richie’s supposed problem eventually, though the topic still gets thrown around occasionally. The idea that ‘Richie would never get a girlfriend because he’s too much of a creep’ was deeply embedded in the group’s psyche at this point. This also meant that they completely ignored him when he tried to say anything remotely related to girls, like with Eddie’s little Amanda predicament.
Truthfully, Richie didn't actually have a problem with girls. When he was younger, he used to resent them because he didn't understand their appeal. When he was even younger, most of his friends were girls, but he grew out of that by age six. Chasing after girls always seemed like a major waste of time, and he'd simply thought he was better than other boys for not getting braindead around girls. It was incredibly frustrating, though, watching his friends get distracted by them over and over. He’d only learned to live with it once he figured out that he's the weird one, not them. So he didn't have a problem with girls as a whole. Some of them— a lot of them— were great, actually. Like Bev. He really only had problems with girls for valid reasons or when Eddie liked one of them.
He knew he had a jealousy problem, he just didn't know what he was supposed to do about it since he couldn't control how he felt. It wasn't just a jealousy thing— although it very much was a jealousy thing— it was also a gay angst thing. An ‘I’ll never have what they get to have even though I want it so badly’ kind of thing, not a ‘girls have cooties’ thing.
After a while, Richie stopped pretending to read the comic and actually started reading it. It was pretty interesting, in truth. More interesting, at least, than listening to the others convince Eddie to pursue Amanda and decide on what the best way to woo her was. Richie, who often felt like he had his own secret identity, had always liked Batman, even if his secret was way lamer than Bruce Wayne’s (or is the secret Batman’s?). He read quickly, flipping through the pages as Batman skulked around and beat the crap out of villains.
Richie woke up in the middle of the afternoon, which is when he realized that he’d fallen asleep right there in Bill’s bean bag. Eddie was watching him carefully as Richie shifted and adjusted his glasses. A quick glance around told him the others were busy with some board game (probably Life).
“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asked. He was holding Batman in his hands, having stolen it while Richie was asleep.
“Yes,” Richie replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Not enough, maybe.”
“Getting proper, uninterrupted sleep is one of the most important things for your health,” Eddie informed him.
“Thank you, Dr. K,” Richie sighed.
Eddie continued to watch Richie with a concerned expression.
“You worry too much, Eds,” Richie countered. “And stress isn't good for your health.”
“Not my name,” Eddie muttered, turning back to the comic.
Richie’s fingers tapped against the bean bag anxiously. “Hey, Eddie.”
Eddie looked up. “Yeah?”
“Let's go join the others.”
“Okay.”
There was distance between them now. It was undeniable and it was also undeniably Richie’s fault. Maybe that guilt was what motivated him to offer to walk Eddie home when it was time to leave Bill’s house. And, of course, that he missed Eddie like crazy.
“Oh. Really?” Eddie said.
“Um, yeah. Unless you, like, don't want to,” Richie replied.
“No, that's fine. It's just been a while since we've walked back together.” Eddie sounded pensive.
Richie felt horrible. He wanted to go to the Kissing Bridge and scratch out the ‘R + E’ that he’d carved there a year ago. He wanted to go back to the way things were before, when it hadn't become just as painful as it was enjoyable to spend time with Eddie. He wanted to go back to when he could ignore his own queerness— back to when it wasn't something he thought about literally all the time. Even the ‘girls have cooties’ act was getting old fast as he, and everyone else, just kept getting older and older.
“Well, come on, then,” was all Richie said.
They walked out together and took in the orange of the setting sun.
Their conversation was stilted at first (how’s the job going, fine, how are classes for you, fine), but Richie couldn't help himself. He blurted, “Do you actually like Amanda?” before he could stop it. Partially, he was spurred, like he always was, to shock people, to draw their attention, and to be bigger and more than he really was— who was Richard Tozier if he wasn't being obnoxious?— but the other part of him was actually just dying to know the truth.
Eddie looked at Richie, then away at his shoes. “I know you think it's stupid. We don't have to talk about it.”
“I don't think it's stupid.” I think I’m stupid. And a bad friend, Richie added silently.
“You never join the others when we talk about her,” Eddie pointed out. “And you're always discouraging me from trying to even be her friend.”
Damn. Richie thought he’d been doing a better job of being at least semi-supportive. Rather than telling a white lie, it was easier to simply omit the truth or to direct a person’s line of thinking elsewhere, but maybe that wasn't cutting it. It's just too bad his friends weren't complete idiots.
“I’m sorry,” Richie said.
“It's fine,” Eddie said. “I wasn't, like, trying to guilt you.”
Eddie was fully looking at Richie now, which meant Richie, in turn, had to look away. He felt like he was burning under Eddie’s gaze.
“I think I do like her,” Eddie continued. “But I don't know her that well, either. I just sit at the same table as her in math. I don't ever see her outside the class.”
Richie just nodded in lieu of responding.
“So I don't know if I’d want to ask her to the formal,” Eddie kept going. “But the others say it could give me the chance to get to know her better.”
“Yeah, that's true.” Richie was actually dying.
Eddie was still looking at Richie, and Richie felt like a hole was being burned into the side of his face. He determinedly kept his eyes forward.
“What about you?” Eddie questioned.
“What— what about me?” Richie asked, startled. His heart rate was rising.
“You never talk about this kind of stuff. Do you like anyone right now? Or ever, actually?”
Richie held his breath, then released it. He said, “I just don't think that kind of stuff is for me.”
“What stuff?”
“Dating. Romance. Marriage.” Girls, he didn't say.
“Oh,” Eddie said. “We weren't talking about marriage.”
“I— I know,” Richie stuttered.
“You’ve thought that far ahead?” Eddie asked. “About marriage and all that. You don't want to get married?”
Richie shrugged, because it wasn't a question of whether he wanted it or not. He could get married to a woman, but it would be messy, to say the least. Maybe he could marry some dyke and then neither of them would be happy, but they also wouldn't have to pretend to be.
“I’d like to get married some day,” Eddie said. His words were dreamy, but his face was serious. “I like the idea. That you love someone and they love you back.”
“You don't have to get married to love someone,” Richie said. “Or for them to love you back.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, albeit hesitatingly, “but then why wouldn't you marry them?”
Richie wanted to tear his hair out. “It's not always the right thing to do. Like, maybe you love someone that's already married to someone else. Or you don't live near them or your schedules don't align or you want different things in life. Maybe you can't get married.”
“Okay, but,” Eddie interjected, “do you agree or do you not agree that the idea of being in love and that person being in love with you back... sounds nice?”
Richie’s palms were sweating like crazy, and his heart rate could be felt not just in his chest, but in his face too. “Yeah,” he answered softly, “it sounds nice.”
He glanced at Eddie for a fraction of a second, meeting his eyes briefly, before quickly swiveling his gaze back to the view in front.
“See,” Eddie said quietly, “you want it too.”
Richie shrugged again, swinging his arms awkwardly. He didn't want to continue this conversation anymore.
“Um,” Eddie said, “do you want to sleep over tonight? Or, I mean, I could sleep over at your place.”
And Richie wanted, so badly, to go back to when it was normal to sleep over at Eddie’s or for Eddie to sleep over at Richie’s, but he couldn’t. He just couldn't. “I can't, Eds.”
Eddie looked crushed. “Oh, okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Richie said, an echo of earlier, but he knew it wasn't enough.
“No, it's fine. I’ll just see you later then.”
“Yeah.”
Richie always felt so empty just after Eddie left.
He’d decided to spend the rest of the day by himself at the arcade and got all the way up to the entrance before he felt like he was going to throw up. He turned away instead. He hadn't been back inside the arcade since he’d played Street Fighter with Connor, cousin of Henry Bowers, and subsequently been jeered out the doors.
He missed the arcade though. Before all that bullshit with Henry and Connor had happened, it used to be his favorite place. He’d liked being mindlessly absorbed into the machines inside, spending hours in the darkness while the sun had been so bright outside. He used to go with Bill and Eddie as Stan had claimed he was tired of the place after just one visit. Sometimes it was the three of them, Bill and Richie and Eddie, but more often it was just Bill and Richie or Richie and Eddie. Richie knew Bill liked the competition and the games themselves and had only stopped going after Georgie had been taken. Eddie never seemed to like the games as much nor was he any good at them, but he’d always gone when Richie asked. The only reason he stopped going was because Richie stopped.
Richie ran back the way he came without even stepping a foot inside the arcade. He crossed the Kissing Bridge, as he often did, and stopped at his carving. He usually tried not to stop there, paranoid about who might see him looking at it, but, at the moment, the urge was too strong.
R + E. ‘Richie plus Eddie.’
Richie traced the letters with his fingers, and then he did actually throw up, over the side of the bridge. He wiped his mouth and kept walking, turning away from the carving.