No One But You ✔️ Reddie

Twenty-Two

Richie had puked after he swung the axe that killed Henry Bowers. He hadn't even thought about the sound that it would make as it buried into the skull, the sickening smack. All he had seen was his friend in danger, and a man who earlier had stabbed Eddie in the face.

Now, as they stood outside the Neibolt house, Richie felt like he could puke again. He looked over at Eddie's face, the bandage plastered over the cheek, a thin trickle of blood oozing from the wound. This was it.

As they walked in, Richie hung back just enough that he could reach over and squeeze Eddie's fingers, a small show of solidarity. Eddie looked at him. There was fear penetrating his eyes. Richie had seen that fear so many times. He hoped that today would be the last time he'd have to see it.

Entering the Neibolt house felt like going back in time. Richie remembered the hallucination of Eddie vomiting black tar, the room filled with clowns and his own coffin, his own corpse. Eddie subconsciously rubbed at his forearm, the pain of the old break crackling through his brain.

When the decapitated head of Stan sprouted tarantula legs from its eye sockets, Eddie froze up. He backed against the wall and watched as it attacked the group, attacked Richie. He couldn't comprehend the sheer level of anxiety and impending dread as he felt he was watching Richie die.

He couldn't comprehend that he might feel that same anxiety a hundred times over today, or that the result might come to fruition. He could barely cope with Stan's death, but even the idea of Richie's death made his bones ossify and his muscles seize.

He didn't hear a word of what Bill shouted in his face. All he could say was, 'Please don't be mad at me, Bill.'

Bev handed Eddie the spear, 'It kills monsters if you believe it does.'

The group reconvened at the well. The descent. They had done it before and come out alive. They prayed that they could do the same again. One by one they made their way.

Eddie and Richie were last to go. They embraced, chins resting in the crook of the other's neck. Neither had ever been so scared, neither had ever had so much to lose.

'We got this, Eds. You and me.' Richie said.

'You and me,' Eddie repeated. He kissed him, then lowered himself down the well.

The second descent was a narrow hole, into the depths of Pennywise's lair, where none of them had ever dared to tread before. Claustrophobic, Eddie stopped short.

'Who killed a psychotic clown when he was thirteen?' Richie asked.

'I did,' Eddie said, swallowing.

'Who pulled Henry Bower's knife out of his own face and stabbed him with it?'

'I did.' The wound throbbed on his cheek.

'Who married a woman ten times his body mass?'

Eddie lowered his eyelids, 'I did.'

'You're braver than you think.' Richie said, knowing he had thousands more examples.

Who kissed who first? Who dared to say 'I love you' first? Who, despite all his perfectly rational fears, endured a six-year relationship with a boy in Derry through high school? Eddie.

Who admitted that the life he was leading wasn't the one he wanted? Who let himself fall in love again, despite how much it had hurt before? Who was prepared to give up everything he had built for a chance at a relationship with Richie Tozier? Eddie.

Richie and Eddie placed their tokens in the ring for the ritual. Richie had been sceptical, but it was appearing to work. But then Pennywise's great head on a gigantic tarantula's body burst forth, and he realised it was far from over.