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Eddie truly hated this plan, he realized. Every second, every moment of borrowed time felt like a haunting waiting to happen. He felt it in his bones, in the spiders crawling across his skin. He felt the utter wrongness of this plan in the back of his mind like a ticking time bomb waiting for the worst time to strike.
He passed Richie for the 50th time this day, pacing scuffs into the ground with how often he walked back and forth. Anything to stop his traitor brain from imagining every single worst-case scenario in existence. His diseased mind was just begging for the opportunity to torture him more. He had to think of something positive, right?
Like when this is all over, when they’re finally safe. Maybe he can watch that horror movie Beverly has been begging him to watch. If his mother knew that he was eating handfuls of greasy popcorn from the movie theater, that he was tempting cancer and whatever life-threatening disease was on her radar by daring to drink a sip of some sugar-filled carbonated nightmare of a drink, she’d probably drop dead right in front of him.
It’ll be so dangerous. Eddie might beat himself up over it for the next few days, but they’ll be alive. They’ll be free. He’ll laugh so damn hard that soda might just squirt out of his nose. Everything will be just fine.
This isn’t permanent. Richie’s going to be fine, right? Because he has to. Before the Losers, before his life changed, he used to believe that Richie finally shutting up and disappearing would be a miracle. The angels will sing choir songs, the sun will shine brighter, and maybe the universe will finally take pity on poor Eddie Kaspbrak.
Now it feels like some sort of divine punishment. Everything felt wrong inside. And it was all his fault. If only he were a better friend and caught the signs quicker. If only he was smart enough to think of a better fucking plan than risking Richie’s life. If only this suffocating town didn’t find a new way to snuff out any source of light that could make living a little more bearable. If only.
“Richie– you don’t- you don’t have to do this. You know that, right? The Losers would understand if you called it off.” Eddie finally spits out, giving up on his pacing to sit in front of Richie. His Richie.
Richie’s hands were gripping his headphones so tight his knuckles were white as he watched– no, more like stared through– Eddie. He was practically frozen in place, the only signs of life being the small labored breaths struggling to escape from his mouth.
Eddie moved before he could even think, his hands already cupping Richie’s cheeks. “Rich? Richie, what’s wrong? Richie this isn’t fucking funny, can you hear me?” Eddie asked, his voice lingering from concern to desperation.
If this were a less pressing time, Eddie would’ve been awfully concerned at how close they were. Boys aren’t supposed to hold each other like Eddie’s holding Richie. That’s what his mother always said. What the newspapers always said. What the whole damn town said. But Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care, as he subconsciously stroked his thumb against Richie’s cheek.
No one’s going to hurt them. It’s just Eddie and Richie.
It took too long before Richie came back into reality, his dark eyes finally flickering up to meet Eddie’s. He adjusted his glasses quickly, trying to blink away the haze.
“Eds?” Richie asked hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if this was some sort of illusion or dream.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. A-Are you okay? Are you hurt? Because you weren’t answering me, you froze and I didn’t know what to do. Was it… was it Vecna? Fuck, I knew this was a shitty plan; I fucking knew it. It’s not worth… it’s just not worth it. We don’t even know if we can damage Vecna, what if we’re risking your life for nothing-” Eddie rambled on, his hands still pressed against Richie’s cheeks.
Richie watched him rant, his eyes fluttering closed at the warmth of Eddie’s hands. They were soft, so damn soft and warm. They felt like home and for a mere second he could believe that maybe everything will be okay. That he got to live another day. That maybe after this, they could defeat Vecna. Richie might just be able to sleep again.
Richie grabbed Eddie’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. God, he wishes he didn’t. “We don’t have a choice, Eds. We can’t risk… anyone else getting hurt by Vecna. Unless that stick up your ass magically turns into a plan in the next 5 seconds, this is all we got.”
Eddie deflated instantly, his hands limp in Richie’s hold. “Of course I don’t, if I did we wouldn’t be doing this-”
“It’s my mind, Eds. I’ll just… y’know, think about all those long nights with your mom and he’ll bail. Works every time. I’ve had bowel movements scarier than that wrinkly ballsack.” Richie joked, letting go of Eddie’s wrists.
Eddie exhaled sharply, rubbing at his face. “Yeah well that wrinkly bastard has fucking powers and can snap you like a glowstick. This is like beyond serious–like end of the world type serious. You could die. Why does it feel like I’m the only one scared here? Because I’m like terrified out of my mind and it feels like you don’t understand what’s at stake here.”
“Why would I be scared? You’re here.” Richie said honestly. He paused, his voice smaller now. “I have my music and I have you, how could it go wrong?”
“Because we’re fighting against something that we barely even understand, Richie!” Eddie snapped. “Something stronger than us– with weird mindfuck powers. We’re out of our depth.”
Richie laughed, sharp and humorless. “You think worrying and hiding away is going to fix everything? You think music is going to save me forever?” His hands curled into fists. “Even if it does, there will be more. More victims, more death, more pain, more suffering.”
He swallowed. “What happens when he goes after Bill? or Stan, Bev, Ben, Mike?”
“I don’t know!” Eddie shouted back, his hands gripping his hair like he was trying to pull the answers from his brain.
“What happens when he goes after you?” Richie says finally, his lip trembling. He stepped closer to Eddie–serious for once in his damn life.
Eddie froze.
Wide hazel eyes met teary, dark ones.
“Because I’d rather die 10 times over than to watch Vecna kill you or anyone else because I was a coward.”
Richie’s jaw clenched. “I’ve been a coward every single day of my life and I will not be the reason that you die.”
Eddie swallowed, feeling like there was a lump in his throat. “About what you said earlier… i-in the woods. I-”
“It’s fine.” Richie cut him off, walking away from Eddie to sit back down on the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, leaning his elbows on his knees.
Eddie huffed. “Richie, come on. Seriously, just be honest with me-”
“I was honest with you. I think you know how that went.” Richie said softly– not unkind but disappointed. He knew it would happen, but hoped anyway. Hope was the cruelest thing to ever happen to Richie.
His eyes briefly flicker up to meet Eddie’s. “It’s okay, Eds. Seriously.”
“I always knew there was something… off with you.” Eddie said thoughtfully, tilting his head. “The way you look at me.”
Richie stayed quiet for once, a small frown on his face. Was it that obvious?
Eddie smiled. “You can’t help that you’re different. You always were different than the others.”
“It’s not like I want to be different. I didn’t ask for any of this, okay?” Richie said frantically.
“All the jokes, the bravado. It was all fake, wasn’t it?” Eddie asked softly. “To distract you from… your feelings. Did it work?”
“No. I-It didn’t.” Richie’s eyes burned, his voice wavering.
“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. I know what you are.”
Richie’s heart dropped in his chest. “What? Eddie-”
“You’re a disease.” He said simply.
“There’s something broken in you, Rich. There always has been.” His voice was steady, calm, like this was just a fact of nature.
“But pretending? It doesn’t change what you are.” Eddie’s lip stretched into a sinister smirk as Richie stumbled away from him.
“You're not Eddie.” Richie wiped a tear from his cheek.
“You can’t just pretend that what you feel is love.”
A small beat.
“You’re sick.”
Not-Eddie’s eyes rolled back to a cloudy white.
“No.” Richie breathed.
“Richie, be careful. Please.” The real Eddie begged, his voice muffled like Richie was trying to hear him through water.
Richie watched, perplexed as not-Eddie smiled at him.
Clinical. Wrong.
So wrong.
“Let’s fix you-” A pause. “Together.”
Richie shook his head.
Blood rushed out of Richie’s face as Eddie– or Vecna now– started towards him.
He didn’t wait long.
His legs moved before his brain could catch up.
Vecna stalked behind him with long, steady strides.
Richie stumbled around the haunted mansion, turning corner to corner.
It felt endless.
“Is this a fucking maze?” Richie asked himself, sweat beading off his brow.
“Don’t be scared, Richard. You wanted this.” Vecna comforted, his steps loud as he chased after him.
A long hallway. Filled with picture frames on the wall.
Not just any pictures. Pictures with his family, his friends. Except something was missing.
“They would be better off without you, Richard.” Vecna said gently.
Richie slowly walked towards the picture at the end of the wall.
It was the Losers. When they took that stupid picture in the photo booth. This one was sillier than the others, but something was wrong.
Richie was missing.
In every single picture, Richie was missing.
Like he was never there at all.
Richie sniffled. “What the hell is this?”
“Your future.” Vecna said simply, stopping behind Richie.
Richie’s eyes fluttered closed.
“Don’t fight your destiny, Richard.”
“Maybe it is my future. But, I want you to know something.” Richie said quietly, his finger trailing across the faces of his friends in the framed photo.
“Our name may be a bit… misleading. But, if I die. W-When I die, the losers.” Richie turned to face Vecna, adjusting his glasses with shaky hands. “They will fucking kill you. We’ve beaten monsters far more dangerous than you.”
“They’ll find your weakness.” Richie let himself cry–the first time in weeks– tears sliding down the curves of his face. “And they won’t hesitate. Not a moment. I won’t… die in vain.”
“We’ll see about that, Richard.” Vecna reached his hand out, a strong suffocating force wrapped around Richie’s throat.
“Richie can you hear me? Just hold on.” Eddie pleaded, his voice distant and warped. “Don’t you die on me, asshole.”
He gasped for breath, his eyes wide and terrified as Vecna stepped uncomfortably closer.
“Do you hear him calling out for you?” Vecna murmured. “Your Eddie?”
Richie gasped in pain as Vecna slammed him against the wall with an invisible force. His feet kicked out uselessly against the air.
“Don’t– don’t you dare-” Richie clenched his teeth as the pressure around his throat tightened. “Don’t fucking touch him-”
“He would be so easy to break.” Vecna says calmly. “So scared. So weak.”
“Just. Like. You.”
Vecna slammed Richie against the wall hard enough for him to tear through the wooden panels, the wood splintering as Richie’s body crashed through it. His body went weightless for a moment, before slamming down hard on the ground.
Richie groaned in pain, sucking in gulps full of air. He glanced up at the hole in the wall, his eyes meeting Vecna’s.
An ice chill ran down his spine.
He swallowed.
Vecna tilted his head at Richie through the gape in the wall, before walking off out of view.
Richie jumped when he felt a hand reaching out for him from the soil.
Its hands were gray and veiny, desperately scrambling towards Richie.
“What the fuck!-” Richie gasped as another hand broke through the soil, managing to lock onto his ankle with inhuman-like grip.
He scrambled to his feet with hurried frantic motions, trying his best to shake off the hand.
Richie shouted as the hands pulled him down, his back hitting the ground with a hard thump.
“No! NO!” He clawed at the ground, trying to find enough purchase to pull himself back up.
The clock chimed as Richie attempted to kick out.
Eventually, he took a moment to glance up.
And froze.
In Loving Memory of
Richard Tozier
March 7, 1970 - July 2, 1986
Beloved Son & Friend
“Are you brave, Richard?” Vecna asked softly, watching with empty eyes as Richie screamed and struggled.
“Or were you just looking for a heroic way to kill yourself?”
Richie sobbed as he heard music starting to play.
He knew it was too late.
He clawed at the dirt until his fingers were split and bleeding, his lungs burning, tired arms begging for mercy.
He didn’t stop.
Not until the soil swallowed him whole.
The only thing left unburied…
was his bloody, broken hand.
Richie floated gently in the air, headphones secured tightly over his head.
Eddie waited. And waited. And waited.
Nothing was happening.
He knew the headphones had to be working, he could hear the muffled sound of them playing.
But the only damn thing happening was the stupid lights that kept flickering.
And Eddie knew what it meant.
Music was playing, but Richie wasn’t waking up.
It had to be Vecna.
“He’s not-” Eddie swallowed. “He’s not waking up.”
“Why isn’t he waking up? Why isn’t he-”
He looked so peaceful, his hair floating in the air.
But Richie was never peaceful.
“Rich, can you hear me?” Eddie asked softly. Then louder, his voice breaking. “Wake up.”
Eddie felt his stomach churn as he watched, but he couldn’t look away.
He needed to be there when Richie woke up.
“Rich, wake up.” Eddie’s voice cracked. He slowly reached his hand out, hesitating before holding Richie’s hand.
It was cold. So fucking cold.
Wake Up.
Wake up.
WAKE UP.
Eddie squeezed tighter, like he could transfer his warmth to Richie.
“You’re scaring me, Richie.” Eddie held onto Richie’s shoulders, gnawing on his trembling lip. He held on so tight his nails were digging into Richie’s shoulder.
“You promised to come back. You promised!” Eddie’s vision blurred as more tears slid down his face.
“Wherever you are, just pl-please. Come back to us.” He finally wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders, Eddie’s head resting on his chest.
He could still hear his heartbeat.
“Okay, alright. That’s good, right? You’re alive.” Eddie fluttered his eyes closed. “You’re going to be okay, I just need you to- come back.”
His heartbeat.
Eddie struggled to hear it through Richie’s shirt.
But it was there. It was faint. Weak.
Why didn’t Eddie stop him?
Why did he let Richie do this?
Why? Why? Why?
“I know this is my fault.”
Eddie clammy hand tightened around Richie’s.
“I-I’m s-so sorry.”
I let you down, Richie.
“I should have said something. Said anything.” Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “But I didn’t, because I was a coward.”
Eddie counted each thump of Richie’s heartbeat.
1…2…3…
The beat faltered.
“No, no, no, just stay with me.” Eddie begged, rocking them slowly back and forth.
4…5…6…
“Do you hear me?”
“I’m- I’m the coward. Not you.”
Eddie cried, a wet spot growing on Richie’s shirt.
“Never you.”
“You’re my hero, Rich.” Eddie whispered, like he wanted Richie and Richie only to hear it. Blood started to drip from Richie’s nose.
Eddie sniffled, brushing Richie’s curls from his eyes.
Now that he was closer, he could watch Richie in a way he never have been before.
He could see the slight flutter of his eyelashes.
The subtle twitch of his lips.
The small, rapid inhales from his nose.
Eddie felt hope slowly creep in.
Eddie didn’t want hope.
Hope could be delusional at best, cruel at worse.
It was easy to be tricked by hope.
Eddie’s lips stretched into a hesitant, but relieved, smile.
“Richie?” Eddie asked hesitantly.
He was still unnaturally quiet and still, but there was something different.
Before he could think it over, Richie’s was yanked up in the air by an invisible force.
Instinctively, Eddie reached out for Richie.
A second too slow.
Gravity unkindly pulled Eddie back down, his knees buckling from under him before his head cracked against the wooden floorboards.
Pain struck at the back of his head, Eddie cried out in pain.
He didn’t have time to care about that, though, even when blood seeped out of the wound at the back of his head.
“E-Eddie!”
Bill slams the door open as he runs inside, Stanley close behind. “We he-heard a noise, are you okay?”
Eddie didn’t speak a word.
He couldn’t tear any attention away from Richie.
“You d-didn’t answer y-your r-radio, Eddie! W-What’s wr-wrong with-” Bill questioned Eddie as they both rushed to Eddie’s side.
Bill grabbed Eddie’s shoulder and for a second, Eddie’s eyes met his. His eyes were red from crying, lips pulled into a trembling pout. He looked like he was trying to– struggling to respond, but his mouth just opened and closed, no words coming out.
“I’m-”
A sharp, splintering sound split through the air.
Eddie’s head naturally snapped towards the sound.
A part of him wish he didn’t.
His legs threatened to give out as he watched Richie’s body contort.
No.
Please no.
Eddie’s vision snagged on Richie’s arm, the way it bent in a way the human body isn’t capable.
His entire body collapsed on itself, his knees relenting and falling to the floor.
Bill fell to the ground with Eddie, grabbing his shoulders. “Eddie, lo-look at m-me! Don’t-”
Eddie shook, fighting against Bill’s grip on him. “Bill! We have to- we have to do something-”
There was not a damn thing they could do.
Bill always took control when a situation fell into chaos. It’s what Eddie admired about him most. The control when others would panic. The strength when others would give up. But as Eddie watched Bill fight back tears in his eyes, he knew there was nothing they could do.
Eddie didn’t know what to do.
And neither did Bill.
Bill’s hands moved to Eddie’s cheek, trying to force Eddie’s eyes away from the gruesome sight in front of them.
His hands were warm, but shaking uncontrollably.
Eddie flinched at the sinister noise, a broken whimper escaping him.
Another snap.
Stanley ran off to the side, gagging into a corner of the room.
“Eddie, j-just keep your eyes on m-me.” Bill begged, tears pooling in his own eyes.
“Make it– stop, Bill. P-Please just make- just make it stop.” Eddie pleaded, his voice brittle and strained.
“Eddie-”
And another.
Eddie choked on his own tears, his chest jerking uncontrollably.
“Eddie, I n-need you t-to.” Bill swallowed. “D-Damn it. L-Look at m-me. Breathe– you need to– Eddie, just-”
“I CAN’T” Eddie shouted, squeezing his eyes shut.
Snap.
Richie’s body, which once was floating in the air, dropped carelessly back to the ground. The lights stopped flickering for the last time, the only light illuminating Richie’s broken body.
For a moment, nobody moves.
Nobody breathes.
“Eddie? Eddie!--” Richie's body lay motionless on the floor, limbs painfully bent and twisted in a way it shouldn’t be.“Where are you?-- Please, I c-can’t move.”
Eddie gasped, immediately crawled over to Richie, the wood biting into his knees.
“Call the a-ambulance, now!” Bill ordered Stanley, following right behind Eddie.
“Eddie?” Richie asked again, hesitant and scared.
Eddie felt his eyes burn again.
He never heard Richie be so scared in his life.
“I’m– I’m here,” Eddie answered, his shaky breath betraying how terrified he was.
“I can’t– I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.” Richie cried, his face scrunched up in pain.
“Everything hurts.” Richie sobbed, his breath hitching as Eddie adjusted Richie’s head onto his lap.
“I know– I know, but… just- just hold on a little longer.” Eddie comforted, raking his fingers through Richie’s curls. Richie’s breathing slowed, steadily breathing through his nose.
“He said… he said he was going to-to come after you.” Richie struggled to say, wincing in pain.
“He’s just trying to scare you-” Eddie countered, shaking his head.
“Promise you won’t go after him, Eds.” Richie said. “Not for me.”
Eddie faltered, his hand stilled in Richie’s hair. His other hand slowly curled into a tight fist, nails digging deep into the skin of his palm.
Richie couldn’t see it, not in his blind state. Eddie could hide it easily. But, not from Bill. Bill could read Eddie better than anyone. He noticed the way Eddie’s nose flared and the muscle in his jaw tightening.
And he knew.
Nobody– not even Richie– could stop him. Eddie won’t stop until Vecna’s burning in hell.
He didn’t say a word.
“Please don’t stop touching me.” Richie whimpered. “Please.”
Eddie’s hand trailed down Richie’s face, cupping his cheek. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.” Eddie smiled, nodding.
“I’m so tired,” Richie admitted softly.
Eddie sucked in a breath.
“J-Just keep t-talking, Richie.” Bill offered.
Eddie could hear the loud sirens in the distance, the tenseness of his shoulders relaxing.
Help is coming.
Richie’s going to be okay.
He’s talking and—breathing. He’s just hurt.
He’s going to make it.
Eddie uncurled his fists to press two fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. And there it was. Weak. Slow. But it was there. Relief hit like a truck, tears slipping down his face.
“I-If… some-something happens–” Richie trails off, exhaling like it took effort to speak.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Richie. Ever again.” Eddie argued.
“Eddie… j-just listen.” Richie gasped for breath. “I meant… every word.”
“Tell me after you get help, why can’t you tell me after-”
“I love you.”
Eddie drew a deep breath, readying the words he’d been waiting to say since Richie’s trance with Vecna.
He won’t be a coward this time.
He’ll tell the truth. That Eddie couldn’t live a day without Richie. That the world seemed brighter with Richie in it.
Before he could speak, Richie went limp, his weight sagging into Eddie’s arms.
“Richie? Richie!” Eddie grabbed both of his shoulders, pulling him up.
Eddie shook him violently, Richie’s glasses slipping off his nose. “Richie!”
Eddie checked the pulse in his neck again.
Nothing. Empty. Gone.
Eddie curled into himself, fists slamming down on the floor. “No…no… no.” He said to himself, breath coming hard and fast.
The rest of the Losers, Stan, Bev, Ben, and Mike ran inside, stumbling over each other in their haste.
“Is he?-” Beverly asked, one shaky step after another.
Eddie slowly uncovered himself from his arms, staring at Richie lying on the floor. His chest wasn’t moving. His body was still.
Eddie’s fingers gripped his own hair, nails tearing into his scalp.
“Oh god, Richie-” Stan’s shoulders sagged, squeezing his eyes shut.
A moment of silence.
His eyes snagged at Richie’s broken glasses, lying askew on the ground.
Then a bloodcurdling scream tore through Eddie’s throat, searing and raw. He screamed until his throat was shredded, until there was nothing left but the burning in his lungs.