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There’s a fire hot burning sensation eating away at Eddie’s torso, like burning the center of a paper as it licks towards the edges… or maybe it’s just the damp breeze flowing through the hole in Eddie’s chest.
He isn’t completely sure if he’s being honest with himself.
The rock he’s laid against is wet and cold. A drastically different sensation compared to the hot liquid that pours out of his chest like wine from his gaping wound. Eddie’s body can’t decide if it’s freezing or unbearably warm as it tries to process if it’s shutting down or not. It’s the most uncomfortable he’s ever been, even with the other Loser’s trying to be gentle when moving him and attempting to stanch his bleeding.
Then again, dying wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, Eddie thinks.
His vision blurs, not fully able to picture anything in front of him. He knows he’s still in the damn cistern and that his friends are screaming at the extraterrestrial clown. He squints his eyes shut, trying to focus on something, anything to keep his mind awake. When he opens his eyes again, everything is still fuzzy, except those bulky coke bottle glasses Richie wears.
Wait, that’s wrong.
Those aren’t his glasses anymore. His bright blue eyes don’t look like massive saucers anymore. Eddie blinks again and he can vaguely make out the edges of Richie’s face, dangerously close to his. Eddie can feel Richie’s large and clammy hands holding his face. Richie’s gently holding Eddie’s head up, shaking him to keep his focus on Richie. Not that Eddie ever needed an excuse to only focus on Richie.
Richie’s mouth is moving, but Eddie doesn’t catch any of it. He spots the corner of Richie’s mouth press into a deep frown, and Eddie just knows it’s wrong.
Richie Tozier is supposed to be smiling.
Why won’t he smile at Eddie like he always did?
“Rich-” Eddie chokes out his name. Blood and bile mixing together in his mouth. It’s thick and Eddie vaguely remembered how the sludge felt from earlier in the basement of the pharmacy. The image almost makes him puke if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie isn’t even sure he has a stomach left to produce that.
‘One last joke Trashmouth.’
“I fucked your mom,” is the joke that leaves Eddie’s mouth.
Richie chokes out a snort of laughter. He shakes his head in disbelief at Eddie.
“Eds gets off a good one.” He murmured, choking on his tears.
‘There he is...’ Eddie thinks.
Eddie watches Richie smile and he feels the world right itself again. He made him laugh. Richie should always be laughing. That’s how Eddie wanted to remember him.
Eddie felt his eyes grow heavier, barely able to keep looking at Richie.
Eddie hears a frantic voice, calling for him desperate and pleading, but it all fades to murmurs in his ears.
He wanted to tell Richie something else- but it’s too late now.
Eddie’s whole world revolved around Richie Tozier when he was thirteen. Probably even longer than that. He barely remembers a time before Richie, it’s always been Bill, Stan, Richie, and Eddie. But it more so went, Bill, Stan, RichieandEddie. Because Eddie knows the two of them came as a package deal, especially when they were kids.
He remembered hot summers, riding his bike and shouting conversations back and forth as they rode down their neighborhood streets. Staying out until it was so dark the streetlights turned on, and it forced them to go back home. The vague smell of smoke and cigarettes that Richie and Beverly would steal. Stanley reading from his book and identifying the local birds and when Richie gave him shit Stan would return with the driest and funniest quips. Much more eloquent than Eddie’s quick “Asshole” comments. Bill and Mike covered in grease while they worked on Bill’s bike trying to keep it alive for as long as possible, well into their later high school years. Mike driving everyone around in the old pick up his grandfather helped him fix up; the exhaust fumes would send Eddie in a spiral, but he had kind of loved the smell too. Ben building anything and everything. Adding new things to their clubhouse until they all were too big and needed a new space that eventually Ben also had built.
Eddie remembers it all now that he was in Derry, but he remembers Richie most of all.
The silence of those long nights when he was alone in his room as the memories of the clown terrorized him. It would eat him alive from the inside out until, inevitably, there was a clumsy knock on his window, and Richie was crawling into Eddie’s room to climb into Eddie’s bed and talk about nothing until they both fell asleep peacefully.
Richie saying something so rotten Eddie’s face would burn red from embarrassment and then his hands would find their way to Richie. Shoving him, hitting him, just to make some form of contact that could release the pressure building up inside Eddie that screamed for Richie’s attention.
They would lay on his bed sharing a comic book unbearably close and brushing their arms. Richie always loved the art and almost never read the text, but he would always wait for Eddie to catch up. Thumb playing with the edges of the page patiently as he anxiously waited for Eddie to nod that he was done. The warmth of the sun washing over Eddie’s bed made them frequently fall asleep with the comics in their hands and curling toward each other.
Eddie vividly remembers Richie’s almost compulsive need to touch Eddie. His hands were always there, holding onto Eddie, brushing against him while they read or played video games in the arcade, and how tightly he hugged Eddie. Richie basically was hanging off Eddie every chance he had when they were kids. Even when they were teens and Richie had practically doubled in height, he still tried to hang off Eddie’s much smaller frame. Eddie wasn’t much better though, especially since he spent the rest of that terrible summer with his broken arm hanging off Richie’s bike whenever he could.
The many group sleepovers that always ended with Richie and Eddie’s sleeping bags practically twisting together by the end of the night because they would be the last two to fall asleep and would laugh through the night in the silence of their friend’s slumber.
All of Eddie’s memories are just screaming: Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie.
Even when Eddie didn’t remember Richie, he was drawn to him. He saw one of Richie’s shows, forever ago- maybe in the early 2000’s. He remembers sitting in a dive bar in New York and seeing the man perform what had to be a routine he had written a million times to perfection. Eddie had to have been almost 30 and freshly engaged. He had a panic attack about marrying Myra and ended up in a random bar listening to Richie with such rapt attention that Eddie couldn’t remember what he was panicking about to begin with. The laughter that rolled through his body was addictive. He couldn’t remember laughing like that ever in his life. Not that he had many memories at that point. The first 18 or so years were lost due to the clown.
He followed Richie’s career semi closely after that, which is how he knew Richie didn’t write his own jokes after a certain point. Eddie remembers when Richie stopped being funny. The sadness that washed over him felt so familiar that it ached in his chest like he was watching a friend lose themselves. He just thought it was a far too intense attachment to some comic he saw live once, too parasocial. Turns out he was watching his best friend lose himself in some awful jokes Eddie knows Richie didn’t even find funny. When he would smile in his set it would never reach his eyes. Eddie remembered, even when he thought he didn’t, he knew. Could feel it deep somewhere in his bones that almost rattled with an unknown ache every time he watched one of Richie’s shows.
Eddie knew Richie inside and out and he finally could remember why. It only took two seconds after Richie bangs the gong at the Jade that it hits Eddie like a wave at the beach that knocks the wind out of you. He saw Richie and the lights went on in his brain.
‘It’s you, duh, it’s always been you.’
Eddie couldn’t find the words for the feelings he had as a kid. It just wasn’t on the list of options for him. He loved all of his friends and thought they would always be together. Especially after that summer. It was always going to be them, the lucky seven against the world. Against Derry.
That was, until Eddie forgot.
Eddie can’t believe he forgot, and he knows it’s the stupid clown’s fault but that doesn’t change that he remembers how in love he is with Richie fucking Tozier. Eddie’s fucking dying in the damn sewer, and he finally realizes that he loves Richie. He knows it’s different than how he loves Stan or Bev. No, Eddie was in love with Richie. It frustrates him that he won’t get to tell him now as he’s dying in this disgusting sewer because of a stupid fucking clown. What a sad joke his life turned out to be.
A turtle swims by in Eddie’s memories. The image is so jarring and then Eddie’s thrown back to that hot and awful summer of 1989. He’s swimming in the quarry and looking under the water to see a turtle. Except this turtle is looking at him. Honest to God perceiving Eddie. Why is this turtle sentient?
“Hello.” The turtle says.
Eddie gasps and starts to panic as he realizes he’s still underwater. He’s going to drown.
The turtle interrupts him, “You won’t drown, this is a memory.”
“Oh...” He murmurs. He finds he doesn’t have to wade through the water like he would keep himself afloat. He just is.
The turtle tilts its head as it swims around him in a circle. “It’s not your time friend. Why are you here?”
Eddie almost forgot, then he remembers the damn fucking clown and how he made Eddie a skewer.
The turtle nods in understanding as if it could hear Eddie’s thoughts.
“This won’t do…he needs you.”
“Richie?” Eddie asks in a small voice.
The turtle bonks Eddie on the head, “Obviously.”
Eddie thinks this turtle is sassing him, but he also feels insane that he’s talking to a turtle to begin with. He looks at the turtle in confusion as it swims down to look through the hole in Eddie’s chest.
“You must hold on. For him.”
Before Eddie can even question what the turtle is going on about, it disappears almost as quickly as it entered his memories.
Then, Eddie’s whirling down further into the depth of the quarry. It grows impossible for him to fight the current as he sinks into the dark of the water. The water that’s no longer the green he remembers but a disgustingly murky gray. He tries to swim, but it does him no good. Eddie’s swirling down down down down down, toward the sewers.
Time moves weird in this liminal space Eddie’s in.
He could be still in the cistern for all he knows. Lost, alone, and shaking in the cold from the underground belly of Derry. Left to rot with the other poor children that have been lost to Pennywise. Eddie doesn’t think that’s the case though; he feels worn and vaguely in pain, but it’s nowhere near the searing bolts he felt before. He also feels warmth. It’s not like the fierce hot pain of his blood leaking out onto his body, no, it’s like being wrapped in a hug or sitting by a fireplace. Welcoming.
Eddie is finally able to peel his eyes open and once his vision clears, he notices the sterile white walls and the uncomfortable position he’s in. There’s also a weight that feels like lead on his legs and Eddie manages to adjust himself enough to look down. He sees a head of messy black curls lying on his legs, and Eddie knows it’s Richie.
Eddie would always know what Richie looked like.
His body was screaming at him to stop moving and his head felt so fuzzy and foggy. He couldn’t remember much besides the turtle. Which seems wrong, why would he remember a turtle?
Eddie reaches out to brush down Richie’s messy curls trying to neaten them. He always loved how chaotic Richie looked, but it looks like he’s lived on this bed next to Eddie for days. Maybe weeks.
Richie makes a small noise and rolls over, facing Eddie. His face was scrunched up, and the dark circles under his eyes were telling. Eddie makes a rough assumption of time he’s been in the hospital since Richie’s sporting a fairy overgrown scraggily beard. Eddie’s hand comes up to touch his own face feeling his own stubble that he never let grow out. He grimaces at the feeling but ignore it in favor of focusing on Richie.
Eddie gently presses his thumb over Richie’s brow to soften it. Richie’s glasses were askew and still had cracks from where they broke when they fought Pennywise. Eddie shivers at the image of the clown and Richie being caught in the deadlights.
Richie murmurs again at the feeling of Eddie’s hand. He weakly attempts to brush it away.
Eddie gives a tiny snort of amusement before dissolving into a coughing fit. His lungs felt like they were working overtime and it hurt to make noises like coughing or laughing.
Richie shoots up, jolting himself awake. He rubs at his eyes roughly to wake up. He isn’t aware that Eddie’s awake as he slowly stretches his body, making plenty of popping noises as his muscles try to readjust from such an awful sleeping position. Richie groans lowly as he tries to sit up straight.
Richie finally looks towards Eddie, and his eyes practically double in size as he looks him over. Richie’s eyes are glassy as he frantically looks at every part of Eddie that’s visible.
“Eds?” His voice is tiny, warbled even. Nothing like how he normally sounds.
“Hey Rich.” Eddie’s voice is hoarse from under use; he flinches at how awful he sounds.
Richie blinks once, twice, then he’s practically crawling onto the cot Eddie’s in to wrap his arms around the smaller man in a tight embrace. Richie’s far too large and long limbed to be on the hospital bed with Eddie, especially with all the tubes that he’s hooked up to, but he’s so gentle as he bends his long limbs to hold Eddie.
“You’re awake, fuck-” Richie sobs out brokenly into Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie reaches up slowly, his arms feel like heavy noodles, and he wraps his arms around Richie and holds him close. “I’m here Rich, I’m right here.” Eddie reassures.
Richie ugly sobs until the nurse comes in and basically pries him off Eddie so she can run his vitals. Richie refuses to leave the room, no matter how insistent the nurse is, and sits in a chair next to Eddie’s bed. While the nurse pokes and prods at Eddie Richie’s hands fumble with his phone shooting off what Eddie can only assume are texts to the other Losers.
When the nurse finally leaves, she sends a glare to Richie for making her job difficult. When her back is turned Richie flips her off. Once she's around the corner and sure to be gone, Richie’s on Eddie’s bed again. This time less frantic and on top of Eddie. He sits on the edge facing him.
“You’ve been out for a while...” Richie tells him in a broken voice, his eyes still wet.
“I’m here Rich, I’m okay.” Eddie replied quietly, looking up at him.
“I lost you,” Richie murmured reaching a hand to grip Eddie’s tightly.
Eddie shakes his head, “-here, I'm here.” Eddie replies in a rough voice, squeezing Richie’s hand tightly. It still hurts to talk, but Eddie has so much to say, and he can’t find the words for any of the million thoughts in his head.
To be fair, he’s pretty sure the nurse just upped his morphine drip because Eddie’s whole body is starting to feel heavy, and his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can talk.
Richie reaches out to hold Eddie’s face, “No, you were gone-” Richie wells up and can’t finish his sentence. His voice wet as the tears slip from his eyes as he looks over Eddie.
Eddie presses his face into Richie’s hand; he gives a soft kiss to Richie’s palm before his eyes start to drift close. The morphine taking effect.
Eddie spends days in and out of consciousness because of the heavy pain killers pumping through his veins. His only knowledge of time passing is that the next time he opens his eyes Richie’s in new clothes and looks like he’s finally shaved. He wonders who dragged him out to take a shower. Eddie occasionally sees the rest of the Losers when he opens his eyes, but Richie’s always there. He isn’t sure how Richie can even be in the room with Eddie this much if he isn’t family, but he’s not complaining, but before the thought can finish Eddie’s asleep again.
When Eddie’s finally fully conscious, it’s just Richie in the room again. He feels a little more coherent now, and the pain in his chest is definitely present. Eddie hisses as he moves to sit up straight. Richie’s next to him reading a book, or skimming is probably more like it. His head turns quickly to see Eddie, and he smiles softly.
“Hey Spaghetti Man.” Richie whispers setting the book down and facing Eddie.
Eddie returns with a tiny smile. “Don’t call me that.” He says with no heat behind his words.
Richie snorts and reaches to grab Eddie’s hand, “Glad you’re back.” He whispered quietly.
Eddie gives a reassuring squeeze back; he readjusts their hands to loop his fingers through Richie’s. He hears the tiny hitch in Richie’s breathing.
“How long has it been?” Eddie asked.
Richie hums in thought, “Honestly? I’m not sure. The first three weeks were a blur and I’m only just aware of the date since you woke up a few days ago.”
“Bev could probably actually tell you how long. She’s hounded me to take a break and go to the hotel and shower repeatedly.”
Eddie makes a face of disgust, “Were you not taking care of yourself?” he asks in a worried tone.
Richie shakes his head no, “Course not,” Richie reaches his hand up to push through Eddie’s hair, “I couldn’t leave you.” He chokes out.
Eddie’s body practically vibrates from Richie’s touch and words. His chest aches and it’s not from the hole; it’s from how much he loves Richie. How he’s always loved Richie and knows he will for the rest of his life.
“I want to divorce my wife.” Eddie says before he can stop himself. It’s not exactly what he wanted to say, but it’s a start.
Richie looks at him with confusion, but a hesitant smile forms on his lips.
“You sure Eds, it’s not just the morphine talking?” Richie gives a weak chuckle.
Eddie shakes his head, “No- I know. I think I’ve known for a long time. I don’t love her.”
He tells Richie with a shaky voice, trying to muster the courage to tell him the truth of it all. The weight that presses against his heart that’s shaped like Richie.
Richie gulps dryly and nods as he listens to Eddie, “Yeah? What- what made you realize?” He asks and squeezes Eddie’s hand.
Eddie’s eyes light up as he looks up at Richie; he brings their connected hands up, and he presses his lips gently to the back of Richie’s hand.
“You.” He hums.
Richie’s blinking at Eddie in confusion, face red. His brain clearly must have short circuited because this is the most speechless Eddie has ever seen him. Eddie let Richie’s brain catch up to his confession.
Richie’s eyes start to water, “Don’t joke with me right now Eds.” Richie murmurs.
Eddie squeezes his hand again, to ground himself and hopefully Richie.
“I’m in love with you. I have been since we were thirteen, maybe longer.” Eddie admits.
Richie’s face crumbles, and his sobs are loud as he presses his face against Eddie’s neck. Eddie wraps his free arm around Richie, holding him and rubbing reassuring shapes into the man's back. He unlatches his hand from Richie’s to hold onto him better, and Richie is practically clawing to hold onto Eddie tightly.
When Richie finally pulls himself off Eddie, he’s still weeping but it’s not as loud.
“You stole my thunder you asshole, I was gonna confess first.” Richie says trying to wipe away his tears.
Eddie’s breath hitches. He thought, maybe, there’s a brief and fleeting memory of a turtle saying something about Richie needing him. That had to be a weird drug induced dream from the morphine.
He can’t believe this is real, Richie loves him too.
“You were?” Eddie asks dumbly, still unbelieving.
Richie moves to hold Eddie’s face making him look directly into his glossy eyes, “Eddie, I was going to stay there in the damn sewers with you. Ben and Mike had to haul my ass out while Bill and Stan carried you. I wasn’t leaving- not… not without you.” He tells him in a fierce tone as he stares at Eddie.
“Are you crazy?” Eddie asks him.
“For you.” Richie replies so easily, like breathing.
Eddie doesn’t think twice before he reaches forward, hand coming up to grab at the back of Richie’s neck and pulls him down to meet his lips.
Richie holds Eddie’s face and presses closer, the kiss is messy and all teeth at first, the two just desperate to finally hold one another. When they finally slot together in a way that’s more comfortable, Richie’s mouth is clumsily pressing kiss after kiss to Eddie’s lips. Eddie pulls and tugs at Richie, trying to get him impossibly closer. Richie grins into the kiss and moves to start placing them around Eddie’s face. His cheeks, his nose, his forehead, behind his ears, and down his neck.
“Rich, Richie,” Eddie giggles playing with the hair at the nape of Richie’s neck.
Richie hums in acknowledgement into Eddie’s skin.
“Richie, I love this, and I love you-” Eddie starts as Richie places a delicate kiss on the corner of Eddie’s mouth.
“I need to talk to a nurse or doctor.”
Richie finally pulls back with a soft groan but nods, “I know I know- just let me bask in this for another moment.”
Eddie rolls his eyes but places another long languid kiss to Richie’s lips.
“Please get the doctor.” Eddie asks.
Richie mocks salutes and goes off to find anyone that matches the description Eddie gave him.
3 Months Later
Eddie’s laying in the bed curling into the warmth that’s pressed against him. It’s early and he doesn’t want to move, but he really needs to go piss. He groans as he stretches, making an attempt to roll out of the warmth of the bed.
Large arms circle around his waist, pulling him back into the warmth, and Eddie grumbles. “Rich, I gotta use the bathroom.” He tries to pry himself out of Richie’s arms.
Richie pulls Eddie tightly against his chest, pressing his nose to the back of Eddie’s neck. He makes a noise that vaguely sounds like words but it’s incoherent.
Eddie worms his way out of Richie’s hold and pads off softly to the bathroom. When he returns, Richie hasn’t moved at all, still leaving the space for where Eddie previously was. He smiles softly and crawls back under the covers and wraps his own arms around Richie’s sleeping form.
Eddie presses a kiss to Richie’s jaw before tucking his head under his chin. He curls into the heat that radiates from Richie.
Richie shifts and presses a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Mornin’ Eds.” he murmurs.
Eddie tightens his grip on Richie, “No, go back to sleep, it’s too early.” Eddie groans, slurring his words into mumbles.
Richie gives a soft chuckle but doesn’t argue. He digs both of them deeper into the blankets on his overly large bed, and it’s not long before they both drift back to sleep.
When they finally wake up, it's roughly later in the morning and Eddie still feels like he could sleep. He knows Richie’s awake because he can feel his mouth pressing hot kisses to his face, neck, and chest. Eddie lazily wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulder and cards one hand through the dark hair that curls around Richie’s ears.
“Mornin’.” Richie whispers, mouth hot on Eddie’s neck.
Eddie gives a hum of approval, “Good morning.”
Richie doesn’t respond, just continues to kiss down Eddie’s chest, his mouth lingering on the puckered scar on Eddie’s torso. It still was puffy and made Eddie feel raw and exposed, but the way Richie presses gentle kisses to it made Eddie feel like he was special.
Eddie keeps running his hands through Richie’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp.
This was how he woke up almost every morning since coming out to LA to move in with Richie.
Eddie had spent around six weeks in the hospital, three of which he was in a coma and there was a solid five minutes he had technically died. He has no idea how he made it out to be honest, by all accounts he should be dead and even the doctors were surprised his heartbeat had come back. He was a miracle apparently.
In the last week Eddie was in the hospital he had called his lawyer and then his wife filing for divorce.
Eddie didn’t even originally go back to New York when he was cleared from the hospital. He wasn’t clear to fly, and Richie just threw all their stuff together in his rental car and offered Eddie to stay with him.
It was a no brainer. Of course he wanted to live with Richie.
When Eddie could finally fly, he went back to New York for the shortest 24 hours of packing up the only belongings he cares about before booking a flight to LA and waiting for Richie to pick him up. Myra had cried, screamed, and attempted to do everything to stop Eddie from leaving. His mind was set though; he only packed up what he deemed essential and left without a word. He would let his lawyer do the talking until the divorce was settled.
That was around a month ago; the divorce was still going through, and the legality of it all was not fun. It was worth it though to be with Richie. Everything Eddie had ever done was worth it to be curled in bed with Richie as he kissed him like he was the only person in the world.