"What are you going to do?" Bev asks, her voice gentle and cautious.
Richie resembles a wounded animal. Prey tend to have a two track thought process when they're wounded; fight or flight. Richie might as well be an injured gazelle facing this question; what is he going to do?
Fight or flight?
"Enough about me, what about you?" Richie asks her, his hands shaking as he lights his fourth cigarette. "Has she called him yet?"
"No. He doesn't know," Bev shakes her head, strands of her honeysilk hair curling around her spotted cheeks. Freckles have a new meaning to Richie now that he's learned to love them. Though, the stars patterned on Bev's cheeks aren't nearly as beautiful as the constellations etched into Eddie's skin. "If he does, he's hiding it."
Richie bites the inside of his cheek and then takes a long drag of his cigarette. The two sit under the streetlight, their bikes collapsed on the sidewalk behind them, their favorite gas station taunting them from across the street. The note from Richie's mother lays on the wet asphalt in front of them, the snow melting through the paper and making the inked words bleed with truth.
Bev had called Richie's house and asked him to meet her there. They haven't been to the laundromat in weeks, not since Richie went and made things weird between them. But she needed to see him, they needed to talk. The note that Ben gave her this morning has been haunting her all day. She needs to share these ghosts with the only other person threatened by the danger she's being put in.
"He'll ground me," Bev says quietly. "I'll be home all the time."
"I'm sorry," Richie says. He shakes his head, his fist crumbling the cigarette. "I'm so fucking sorry. This is all my fault."
"Are you seriously trying to blame yourself for having shitty parents?" She scoffs, then asks "What, is it my fault too that my dad is such a creep? Should I cover myself up more?"
Richie winces and looks away, shaking his head. "No, that's not your fault. This is mine. They don't- They- I don't know, Bev. Maybe if I was normal, they would understand me better. I think... I think that's what the issue is. They just don't understand me, so they don't even try to," he mumbles in a low, tired voice.
When Bev and Rich first became friends, he had a shrill, piercing tone, a mouth that would not stop running, and a brain that couldn't keep up. She called him "Roadrunner" for the first half of their friendship, and that's where beep beep had stemmed from. Now, she can't remember the last time she had to use it more than once a month. Richie sure has changed throughout the course of a year, he's now weighed down by the neglect and constant shunning from everyone. Not just his parents, but the teachers in Derry who will ignore his questions during lectures because they've cast him as the class clown and assume everything he's got to say is just one big joke.
Bev reaches over to hold Richie's hand, tightly squeezing the fingers that were once so familiar to her. They're different now, they've touched so many people since the last time she held them. His fingertips have redesigned the prints to be an entirely new person, but she won't give up. Her Richie is in there somewhere, she knows it. If she has to learn the ups and downs of this new Richie as well, she will. She'll do anything it takes.
"I'm sorry," Bev says, followed by "I don't think I do, either. And don't give me that bullshit, Richie. I mean it. I don't think I understand you either."
"But you try," he tightens his grip on her hand like he's lost sight of the one person in his life to truly give a shit. "You try over and over again. I'm thankful."
"I'm not the only one," she shakes her head. "The others want to try as well. You're not alone, Richie. Not anymore."
"The others?" Richie lifts his head up to look at her. The light illuminates his face for a moment, showing her his cherry red nose freezing over in the winter cold. "Eddie?"
"Yeah," she nods. "Eddie asks me stuff about you. They all do."
"Like what?" Richie scoffs. He can't imagine a single thing about himself worth wondering about, it's not as if he's interesting or anything. Everything about Richie is on the surface, it doesn't get much deeper than bad humor and blatant insecurity.
"Well, Eddie asks me what to do when you're upset. He seems really concerned about that, he wants to help. Mike asks what to do when you get that little impulsive light behind your eyes. Apparently you make him nervous when you guys hang out. Bill asks about what kind of things you like to do for fun, you know, just normal stuff," she shrugs casually. "It just makes sense, y'know. I've known you the longest."
"I had no idea," Richie lights another cigarette. Bev gave him a new pack, and he's about to go through the whole thing in one sitting to make up for lost time. "I-I didn't think they cared that much."
"Are you kidding? They love you, idiot. Ben wants to make a D&D character for you," she scoffs. "Stop thinking so lowly of yourself, Richie. We love you."
Richie smiles, then hides his mouth with the back of his hand. He wants to say he's blushing because of the mention of Eddie, but they both know that's not true. It's because... people care.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," he laughs, chuckling to himself. "I really have no idea."
Bev cracks a smile at the sound of his harmonious chuckles. It isn't often that Richie laughs, usually because he's the one dealing the jokes, but something about the sound paired with such absurd words makes her grin with him.
"It's not funny," she says, but a giggle punctuates the end of her sentence anyway.
"I know," Richie laughs, taking his glasses off to press his palms into his eyes. "It's really, totally fucked, isn't it?"
The two burst into hysterical laughter, doubled over and holding their stomachs that ache with joy. Bev drapes over Richie's arm, clutching his shoulder tightly and trying to regain composure. Any time one of them manages to calm down, they'll look at the other one and completely lose it all over again.
It feels like mending. It feels like the last few weeks being erased and rewritten, like the two are just as close as they've always been. They're faced with quite possibly the worst scenario, yet they both find refuge in the absurdity and allow themselves to just be kids and laugh. It's important to remember how vital laughter is when you're both facing shitty parents.
"But seriously, ToTo," she finally calms down, wiping tears from her eyes and tugging on his jacket sleeve. When Richie lifts his eyes to hers, she says "What are you gonna do?"
He says the first thing that comes to his mind. "I'm going to tell Eddie that I want to go steady. Seems like the only thing that makes sense right now."
Beverly doesn't look surprised, but then again, nobody is oblivious to the fond eyes that the two boys share with one another. It's obvious by the way that Richie shares his music with Eddie and Eddie alone, and it's painfully apparent by the way that Eddie stares at Richie whenever the boy is not looking. The only time the losers have ever been shocked was by the truth that spilled out during truth or dare that exposed Richie as Stan's first kiss. They were all certain that the night would end in Eddie confessing to Richie, but the game was cut short after that terrible confession that left them all so confused. But now Richie admits it, and Bev only nods in support.
"Sometimes, that's all you've got," she shrugs. "Don't get me wrong, you're a great friend, but I'd go mental without Ben. There's something... so special about taking friendship to such a deeper level."
"Is he your best friend?" Richie asks, though he doesn't feel victimized. If Ben is Beverly's best friend, then he will genuinely feel so happy for the two and their endless trust.
"Yeah, I think so," she nods. "I'd like to say that either you or Bill are my best friends, but it's really Ben. I tell that kid everything."
"I'm glad," Richie nods. "Honesty is important."
He remembers how Stan held him by the side of the face and told him that he should let Eddie into his mind. He thinks that is a little more than true, and Richie craves to have what Beverly and Ben have. Best friends, but leveled up like the video games that Richie plays at the arcade. He wants his name to be the top score in Eddie's heart, and he's got to start with telling him the truth more often. He can't keep dumping all his issues onto Stanley or Beverly. Sure, they're trustworthy and they do offer genuine advice and reassurance, but they're not Eddie. Ultimately, at the end of the day, that's all Richie ever wants.
The two finally gather up their money to go into the gas station, stepping on the note from his mother as they go. They eat and enjoy their time together, the empty laundromat feeling as much like a home as detention halls do. They don't worry about Richie's parents or what Alvin will do when he finds out Beverly has been hanging out with a bunch of boys, they merely enjoy themselves while they're still free. Who knows when the next time that'll be?
As Richie rides his bike home, the frozen slush slapping his pant cuffs and soaking his bony ankles, he starts to think of Eddie and everything that he has learned. He really does need to be more honest, and not just about how many times he's kissed someone. Honest about everything.
So Richie turns left instead of right on Witcham street, his bike carrying him to one of those safe places his heart has determined as an additional home. It's funny how therapeutic it feels, how things may be falling apart, but it's all okay, because he will be seeing Eddie soon.
Richie props his bike against the side of the Kaspbrak house, tiptoeing around the back to where Eddie's window is located. The light is off, but that's no surprise, it's nearly one AM. Eddie went to sleep long ago, but that's not stopping Richie from hauling himself up to the window sill, pushing the window open as best as he can with one arm. Eddie's room is dark and blackened, so he doesn't see the curtains obscuring his entrance until it's too late.
Richie Tozier makes an entrance louder than a damn circus.
"Holy fuck!" Eddie immediately shouts, shooting up in bed and backing himself into the corner.
The curtains get stuck beneath Richie's weight, the whole entire rod pulling away from the wall and crashing down between the nightstand and desk. Pill bottles clatter around and roll off of their flat surfaces, books falling from the shelf, and Eddie's fish tank tilting off of it's stand from such a dull force offputting everything in the room by a few inches.
"Richie, is that you? What the fuck! What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking idiot?" Eddie drops his defensive stance when the dark figure sits up. The moon catches on the side of his face and shows Eddie these big eyes and a lovesick grin. "You fucking dumbass, you broke my god damn curtain rod! You could have killed yourself! Are you a fucking moron?"
Eddie stands up, helping the boy off the floor and turning him towards the window to inspect his face for any obvious wounds. Just as he declares Richie as safe, the two hear plump footsteps coming down the hall.
"Eddie bear? What was that noise, honey?" Mrs. Kaspbrak calls down the hall, her voice right outside the door.
Eddie's eyes widen and he looks around in panic, trying to figure out where the hell to hide Richie so that his mother won't have a heart attack. He glances back towards the open window, and Richie immediately shakes his head, pulling away from Eddie.
Eddie panics, dragging the boy to the foot of his bed and throwing his closet door open, shoving him in and pressing a finger to Richie's mouth. Just as he slams the door shut, Eddie's bedroom opens up, and the infamous mother makes her entrance.
Richie is shrouded in darkness, surrounded by the overwhelming smell of medicine and bleached clothes. His hand comes up to touch the shirts hanging beside him, the cotton well-worn and loved by Eddie's heavenly body, and Richie feels jealous.
Through the door, he can hear Sonia say "What on earth was that noise? Are you alright? What happened? Are you hurt?"
"N-No," Eddie shakes his head. "I had a nightmare, that's all, momma. I fell out of my bed. I must've pulled my curtains down too."
"Another nightmare, Eddie?" She asks, then says "Oh, what if you have a concussion! Dear, you cannot go back to bed! What if the curtain rod hit you and gave you a contusion?"
"I'm okay," Eddie persists. "Can you turn the light off? I want to go back to sleep. I have school tomorrow."
"But dear-" she says, only to get caught off by an impatient son.
"I'm really okay, mom, I feel fine! I'm tired," Eddie sounds exasperated. Richie presses his palm against the door, knowing that his boy is just on the other side. He knows that Eddie isn't ashamed of him, so he's not trying to hide Richie. This is just how things need to be in order for them to safely love each other. Richie has a feeling that he will be spending a lot of time in closets for the rest of his life.
"Oh, dear, why is your window open?" Footsteps tread across the floor, and then the sound of Eddie's window sliding shut and being locked penetrates the closet door. "You could catch a cold. You don't want that, now do you?"
"No m'am," Eddie says obediently. "Thank you."
"Of course, Eddie bear. Now you get some sleep, okay? I love you," Sonia sighs. Richie is sure that she does, but she loves him too much. That's the problem.
"I love you too, mommy," Eddie says, making Richie smile. He contains his laughter for the sake of their safety, but it sure proves to be hard.
After Sonia leaves the room, the two wait for a couple moments, before Eddie finally says "Okay. Come out, idiot."
Richie opens the door, stepping back into the room and saying "I like boys."
Eddie rolls his eyes at the awful "coming out" joke that Richie just made, but still stands on his knees at the end of the mattress to be eye-level with him. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie's shoulders and pulls him forward in a tight hug, pressing his lips to the side of Richie's head. "Nuh uh. Correction; you like one boy."
"Oh, how could I be so ignorant? Forgive me, lord Kaspbrak," Richie shakes his head at Eddie's stubbornness, yet he lets his hands settle on Eddie's waist as he says "You're entirely right. I do like a singular boy."
Eddie smiles.
"Freddie Mercury," Richie deadpans.
Eddie frowns.
"I'll kick you out," Eddie threatens, though the words hold no meaning. "I mean it, trashmouth. I'll kick you right out into the dead of the night."
"You wanna break my heart while you're at it?" Richie asks, nuzzling his nose into Eddie's neck, kissing a particularly prominent freckle.
"Hmm," Eddie pretends to ponder it for a moment, then laughs at Richie's mouth tickling him, and pushes the boy away. "No can do, looks like you're stuck with me cherishing you."
Eddie falls back onto the mattress, the blue limelight of the tank glowing on all his best features. Richie crawls over him, hovering over the boy just to get a good angle of his face. Eddie's hands slide up Richie's chest and clench onto the fabric of his t-shirt, smiling up at the dark-haired one so sleepily.
"Guess so," Richie smiles smugly. "What a shame. I'll truly be miserable spending my whole life with you."
"Is that what you want?" Eddie then asks, tilting his head to the side. His bedhead looks so entirely cute in this moment, but then again, Richie truly thinks everything about this boy is just adorable.
"Possibly," Richie shrugs, then remembers honesty. "If you let me."
Eddie smiles so hard that two dimples make an appearance in his cheeks. It's the first that Richie has ever seen them, so they take him by quite the surprise when they dip in. He didn't think it was possible to find more perfect details about Eddie, but these dimples certainly just proved him wrong.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see where life takes us, then," Eddie comments, tugging on Richie's shirt so that the boy will lie down.
Richie does so without hesitation, laying on his side and pressing his back against Eddie. The smaller boy rolls over and wraps his arm around Richie, pulling him in close and letting the tip of his nose connect with Richie's neck. It feels so, so, so entirely safe, so lovely, and so... content. That's what it is; it's content. For once in his life, Richie feels entirely at peace. Everything will be alright in this moment. For as long as Eddie holds him, the world will be okay. He truly believes it.
"My parents don't understand me," Richie whispers. The last thing he wants is for Sonia to hear voices and catch the boys canoodling like this. Eddie listens, pulling the blankets up over themselves. When Richie doesn't continue, he gently rubs the boy's lanky arm as a form of encouragement, which seems to work out for him. Richie continues, opening up and saying "I don't think they ever did. I think I have, like, ADHD, or Tourette's Syndrome or something. I wasn't... a regular kid because of this. And I wasn't supposed to be born, by the way. I was the result of a drunk prom hookup, so I think that's another reason why they don't like me. But... they haven't ever left me on my own before. Not until now. Sometimes they'd go on vacation or spend a weekend away in Bangor, but they always came home after a week. They always left money. I always had a babysitter."
"And now?" Eddie asks.
"And now I don't think they're coming back," Richie whispers. He wants to reject the words coming out of his mouth, but Stan is right. He needs to let Eddie know these things if they are to ever start a proper relationship. "They're still in town, though, so I don't think it counts as abandonment. They leave me notes and stuff. I don't know, man. I don't know what to do."
Eddie listens carefully, not interjecting with the little comments he wants to make. He knows Richie has to get everything out on the table before he starts talking, or else the boy will shut down and fail to divulge any other information. Bev told Eddie this, she said it's better to know now than have to learn the hard way. She says it's because Richie feels like what he has to say is never actually important.
"Sometimes I feel like you all hate me. I know that's irrational, but something in my brain tries its best to convince me that is a legitimate statement. And then the logic section of me gets angry with that, and then my brain is at war with itself. I never feel like I'm good enough to be hanging out with you. I don't like my jokes, but they're all I have. I'd rather have shitty humor than no personality, or worse, only be defined by my evident insecurity. Oh, that too. I'm insecure about everything, if you haven't already noticed. Really. Everything. Just now, when I was in the closet, I felt jealous of your clothes because they get to live on your body in more intimate ways than I will ever be. I only know, like, three songs by David Bowie. Sometimes I feel like Stan hates me for no reason. I'm failing math, no, wait, you already know that. I hate lemon flavored foods, and I love the feeling of-"
"Richie," Eddie exhales with a laugh. His breath ghosts against the base of Richie's neck, his lips pressed to the boy's spine. "You don't have to tell me everything just yet. We've got forever to figure it out, okay?"
"Okay," Richie nods against the pillow, his hands coming down to hold Eddie's.
Eddie hums in a sleepy tone, saying "How 'bout we skip tomorrow, okay? Just us."
"You wanna skip?" Richie asks in complete shock and surprise.
"Yeah," Eddie says in his most tired voice. "One time won't hurt. It's my turn to take you on a date."
Richie breaks into a smile, rolling over in bed to face the boy he traveled across town to see. Things start to make sense to him, like his teenage years were written for greatness. He kisses Eddie's forehead, nuzzles his nose against the other's, and finally reaches up to take his glasses off. "I'd like that," he says. "I'd like it a lot."
"Goodnight, idiot," Eddie mumbles.
"Goodnight," Richie responds, slowly watching Eddie fall asleep. It's a beautiful sight, it's like watching morning glories fold their petals up inside when the moon finally makes its entrance.
Then, right on the cusp of slumber, the smaller one mumbles through freckled lips, "I like you in a romantic way."
Richie laughs and kisses his forehead again, deciding that phrase must be their thing. Every couple has their own quirks and traditions, and that specific term must be theirs. He can't wait to recall it when they're older, Richie already planning out all the old people pranks he could play to get good chucks out of Eddie.
And it feels good. It feels good to plan your future with someone, even if they're asleep for half of it. Just the prospect of wanting a future is enough to obliterate any of the darkness creeping and living within Richie's heart.
Richie doesn't want to die before he can grow old with Eds.