fiftyfive ☆ freeze

547 10 7
                                    

by: doyuroki on ao3

~~~~~

Hanging at the quarry seemed like second nature to Richie Tozier.

He'd watch in amusement every time Bev jumped in first, Bill and Ben pushing their way to the edge until whichever one of them made it first landed ungracefully on their stomachs, pretty laughs bubbling out of Bev's mouth. Mike would go next, cheerful and always dropping in like he was light as a feather; always carefree. Stan would watch them all, unamused every time, before giving Richie a bank stare and jumping in as nonchalantly as you could from a 40 foot drop.

And every time, Eddie would look to Richie with concern, and Richie would give him a smile before reaching his hand out in the space between them. Eddie would take it, his hands small and warm in Richie's, and give him something of a grateful smile. Richie would count (only up to two because after three, Eddie got too nervous) and they'd jump, hands interlocked until the water inevitably pulled them apart.

They'd splash around and laugh, having way too much fun considering how frequently they choked on the dirty water.

Bev would float on her back after a while, sunlight shining down on her, her hair alight and freckles darkened. Ben and Bill would watch in amazement, desperately swimming alongside her. Stan would try to drift alone, too, but most days Mike would swim in happy circles around him; Stan would climb on his back and they'd drift peacefully along the quarry together, Stan's eyes on particularly high branches and pretty birds, Mike's on the pretty boy holding onto him.

Eddie would laugh at them all, leaning in close to Richie and whispering how oblivious they were, teasing fire in his eyes. He'd splash Richie with water, then, when he realized that they were too close, and Richie would fumble to wipe his glasses so he could watch Eddie throw his head back, shoulders relaxed and no wrinkles on his forehead - just happy.

And Richie would laugh in his own head. Yeah, oblivious.


...


Today was no different. They'd jumped and swam and laughed, until Eddie's fingers got wrinkly and he got out of the water first; Richie following close behind.

They were drying off when it happened.

Beverly, as usual, was laying back with her eyes closed, sunglasses slipping off her nose every so often. Bill and Ben were sitting nearby, taking turns picking songs to play on the speaker Ben had asked for for Christmas.

Stan was already fully clothed, standing somewhere on a distant patch of grass, his neck craned upwards, heavy binoculars resting on his collarbones. Mike was there, too - napping, Richie thinks, or maybe just watching Stan. Oblivious.

Eddie was sitting cross-legged in the grass. He'd found a patch of daisies and giddily settled down there, observing the flowers and picking them out occasionally. Richie made his way over, plopping down in front of Eddie, careful not to crush any of the flowers he seemed to be so fond of. Eddie looked up at him and smiled, radiant. His fingers worked at once, delicately weaving the stems of the daisies together to form some kind of rope? Mega daisy stick?

Richie asked him as much and Eddie didn't look up, mumbling something like "you'll see".

So, Richie watched - watched as Eddie's small fingers poked and prodded at the flowers until all of their stems were interlaced, forming an 'o' shape. Eddie fiddled with it until he deemed it secure, wrapping a few smaller daisies and buds where it seemed to bare. He smiled, then. Finally looking up from his work, Eddie's eyes met Richie's at once and fuck, he looked so happy.

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