Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier have been married for almost fifteen years.

Technically, they’ve been legally married for only three years, when the state they lived in, Illinois, legalized gay marriage in 2013. But they’ve always considered themselves married. They’ve been referring to each other as ‘my husband’ since 2003, so that’s where they count it.

Their love story was sweet and simple. They grew up in a small town, one that neither of them enjoyed at all. They’ve known each other since they were kids, and before the age of twenty they ran off together and settled down in Chicago. They’ve been living there since.

This is the backstory the two of them give to anyone curious about how they met. The reason it lacks detail is because that’s really all the both of them could remember. Small town sucked, parents lost contact with, all for reasons they actually aren’t quite sure. They had each other, always did, and for Eddie and Richie that was kind of all that mattered.

Who cares if the past couldn’t be remembered? They had the present.

The present included date nights where Richie always tends to go a bit overboard with the romance, bouquets and reservations, even after all these years. Eddie’s packed lunches that Richie takes to work- triangle-cut sandwiches and extremely cheesy love notes that never fail to make him smile. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed, Fridays with cozy movie nights on their couch. They never got sick of one another, even sexually, still unable to keep their hands off each other for longer than a week.

That’s all that mattered. What came before that didn’t.

It was supposed to be a normal day. Richie woke up to excited kisses peppered all along his face.

He hums happily, putting a hand to Eddie’s face without having to open his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Time to get up.”

He groans, wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him in. “I can be a little bit late.”

“You actually cannot be a little bit late,” Eddie responds, but softly rubs a hand along his torso and gives him a kiss to the jaw.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles.

“No.”

“We can have a sexy little quickie,” he starts sliding his hands downwards, squeezing Eddie’s ass with both hands. He’s only in his boxers and one of Richie’s shirts.

Eddie tries to squirm out of his grasp. “No, cause when you’re late, it brings shame upon us. Shame upon me. People wonder why I’m married to someone who can’t even show up to work on time-“ he nags, but he’s only teasing, smiling while he talks.

“Quickie blowjob? Suck me off for the sake of love?”

“Annnd I’m leaving,” Eddie manages to escape his hold and begins crawling out of bed. “Come get ready.”

Richie and Eddie start their morning together, as they always do. Eddie works as a risk analyst. He complains well enough to not love his job, but he doesn’t hate his job either, and he’s good at what he does and is paid well. Richie works as a drama teacher at a high school. He spent a few years pretty famous as a comedian, and if he kept going, he could’ve been ‘B-List’ or higher. However fame was never the goal. He enjoyed his career, but eventually he wanted something quieter, to spend more time with his partner, and that he did. He prefers the quiet life.

They get dressed and Richie makes them a small breakfast, just some toast and eggs. They play footsies while they eat and Eddie hugs him from behind while he does the dishes.

“Your lunch is in the fridge,” Eddie says, but opens the fridge himself and grabs it. He hands it to him.

Richie takes a peek inside and frowns. “Why is it just fruit?”

Eddie makes an annoyed click with his tongue and leans in beside him, putting a hand to his back. “It’s not just fruit. Look, you have yoghurt, and granola-“

“Where’s your awesome homemade BLT sandwich?” He pouts.

“Your doctor said no red meats, remember?”

Richie pouts further.

“Don’t give me that,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “And if you try and buy yourself lunch today, I’ll find out, and I’ll kick your ass.”

Richie smiles widely. “Thank you baby.” And gives him a kiss.

“Have a good day,” Eddie beams up at him. “Love ya, loser.”

“Right back at ya, loser!”

-

Eddie’s driving to work, hoping his good mood isn’t faltered by his job.

He gets a phone call, and smiles to himself imagining Richie forgot to tell him something. However the call says it’s from Derry, and the moment he reads it something in him fades out completely. His smile drops and his stomach sinks.

Derry. That’s his old town, right?

His mind immediately jumps to fear- but of what? His mother? It can’t be her, she died a few years back.

He presses the button on his steering wheel and answers. “Hello?” He says awkwardly. Typically he answers with introducing himself, but he’s not thinking straight.

“Eddie, hi,” the voice sounds familiar and a complete stranger all at once. “It’s Mike.”

“Mike who?”

Something’s completely dazed him out of his surroundings, and he doesn’t even realize he’s going straight through a red light. Another vehicle slams right into the side of his car. The air bag practically punches him in the face, knocking his head back harshly.

“Eddie! Are you alright?!” The familiar (?) man asks him.

“Yeah I’m pretty good!” He lies back.

-

Richie’s in the middle of teaching a class of juniors. They’re discussing the empathy that comes with acting when his phone rings.

He keeps talking as he pulls it out to check it. “You can find many ways to connect yourself to your character. Maybe they remind you of your grandma. Maybe something the character is going through reminds you of your own issues. Maybe they remind you of…” he trails off as he looks at his phone screen.

It’s from Derry.

Why would it be from Derry?

“…home,” he finishes his sentence. His vision is starting to blur, and he can see his hands start to shake. “I’ll be right back. Talk amongst yourselves.”

He steps out without saying anything more, the students appearing confused but shrugging it off.

He stands in the school hallway, leaning against a locker. He picks up. “Who is this?” He says instantly.

“Richie, hey,” the friendly voice says. “It’s me, it’s Mike.”

“I don’t know any Mikes,” he says dryly.

“No, you- you do,” he explains. “We were friends in Derry. When we were kids? We used to be in a group called the Losers.”

Richie doesn’t answer. His anxiety picks up, and he begins to break out into a sweat. Memories flood through him like his life is flashing before his eyes- oh god, is he dying?

“We made a promise to each other. All those years ago,” he now says solemnly. “Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” Richie answers, but he’s actually unsure if he does.

“I need you to come back. All of us, we have to come back to Derry.”

“Okay.”

“Can you come back as soon as tomorrow? Tomorrow night latest?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Rich. See you then.” And he hangs up.

Richie puts the phone back in his pocket. He tries to take a deep breath, but out comes complete nausea instead. He runs to the closest garbage can and pukes right in it. He throws up so hard that his stomach clenches in pain, and he gags afterwards.

A teacher somewhere down the hall begins to approach him. “Mr. Tozier! Are you alright?”

He wants to answer, but he can’t. He collapses on his knees and pants heavily. Behind him his classroom door opens, and he can hear his students murmuring in worry.

He can feel the teacher get down beside him,  comforting hand to his back. She hands him a cloth. He can’t remember her name right now, though he wish he did, because he remembers that she’s a kind woman.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She asks quietly.

“Do you have bourbon?” He mumbles.

“No, uh, this is a school,” she chuckles nervously.

“Oh, right, sorry, I forgot,” he puts a hand to his head and winces.

“Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you did. C’mon, let’s get you to the nurse’s room,” she tries to help him up, but she’s barely even half his size, so he does most of the work on getting on his two feet.

She helps walk him to the office. One of the secretary stands up at the sight of him.

“Mr. Tozier, I was trying to call you,” she says. “Your husband. He’s been in a car accident.”

Richie’s mouth gapes open in shock. “What?”

-

Eddie opens the door to their home and is immediately hugged, drawing a small noise of surprise from the man.

Richie hugs him tightly, then holds his face with both hands. He inspects him for any injury. “Are you okay? Are you alright?”

Eddie holds his wrists. “Yes, I’m okay. The car’s in the shop though, I’m really sorry-“

“I don’t care about the car. I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathes, hugging him again.

Eddie wraps his arms around him tightly, pushing up on his toes and rubbing his back. “Are you okay? I heard what happened today. You had some kind of anxiety attack?”

Richie’s body tenses. He pulls away again. “I… I got a call.”

Eddie tenses in return. “So did I. From, uh, an old friend named-“

“Mike?”

His mouth goes dry. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember him?” He asks warily.

“Uh- a little. I think. I don’t know.”

“We were apart of some- uh, club? I think?”

Eddie chews at the inside of his cheek. “The Losers Club. That’s what we called it.”

Richie goes to sit on the couch, head in his hands. “I mean… how much do you remember?”

“Not much.”

He sighs in disbelief. “Why can’t either of us remember this?”

Eddie hesitates in answering, hoping that he’ll think of the right thing to say. “I… I really don’t know. I didn’t remember we had other friends from our home town until today. I always thought it was just you and me back then.”

“So did I,” Richie agrees. “Maybe we weren’t that close to them. Maybe this is just some kind of high school reunion of some sort.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Then what is it?”

“Richie, you keep asking me questions, but I really don’t know, honey.”

Richie scratches the back of his head, jittery. “Right. Sorry.”

Eddie notices that he’s doing all his nervous habits. Bouncing his leg, fidgeting with his hair, inspecting his hands. He moves to sit down beside him. “You okay?”

Richie nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What’s bothering you?” Eddie comfortingly rubs at his arm. “Is it about going back there?”

Richie swallows heavily. “Yes. But I can’t really explain why. I just feel… uneasy.”

Eddie scoots closer, wrapping an arm around him and leaning his head on his shoulder. “I know. Me too. But we have to go. I don’t know why, I just- something in my gut is telling me we can’t say no to this. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” he sighs glumly. “And I agree.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time, hm?” Eddie tries with a smile. “We’ll make it fun. It can be like a vacation.”

“A vacation in our dusty small town that we’ve refused to return to for decades?” He makes a joke.

“Yup! It’ll be great,” Eddie encourages. “Remember the lake? We’ll go skinny dipping.” He leans in with a flirty tone.

Richie breaks into a smile. “Sure thing, toots.”

He chuckles and kisses his shoulder. “Why don’t you start packing? I’ll look for cheap, last-minute flights.”

-

There are no affordable last minute flights, and so they drive down. It’s about a day’s drive, so they don’t get much sleep the night before in order to leave early morning.

Car trips are always fun. Especially with Richie. Eddie isn’t really a fan of driving cars anyway, he gets bad road rage and he hates traffic. Richie sings and laughs, he keeps his windows wound down in the warm weather for everyone to hear his upbeat music. He has a habit of grabbing Eddie’s palm for a kiss every hour or less and plays silly ice breakers like ‘if you had one superpower, what would it be?’

Today he was trying to be like that, really trying, but he was obviously stressed. Eddie was stressed too. So instead of a trip worth of blaring music and laughter, it was more just low volume tunes and simple conversation.

“Do you think,” Richie says when they’re only a few hours left. “Do you think they’ll be okay that we’re together?”

“I dunno man, I’m pretty out of your league. They might be a bit confused as to how the hell you got me,” Eddie teases, the question’s seriousness flying right over his head. He turns to Richie with a smirk, and it drops when he sees that his husband’s gripping the steering wheel tightly.

They’ve been living so happily, Eddie actually forgot for a second that they’re still a gay couple, and that’s apparently bad to a lot of people.

“What- you mean, because we’re two guys?” Eddie raises a brow.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“I don’t recall any of our friends expressing any… homophobic ideals. I believe we’ll be okay.”

Richie stares far ahead. “It’s a small town,” is all he says.

“Hey,” Eddie takes his fingers to Richie’s face and brushes some of his hair behind his ear. “Where are you right now? What are you thinking?”

He blinks a few times, like for a moment he was caught in a trance. “I don’t know. It’s- it’s a small town. I don’t want to put us- you especially, in any danger.”

Richie always had some insecurities with his sexuality. It gets blurrier the further Eddie goes back, still he remembers a lot. Richie was (and still is) always so loving, so affectionate, especially physical, but it took years for him to be comfortable doing it in public. Maybe it was shame, but a lot of it was paranoia, that someone was going to hurt him, or Eddie, for what they were. He got really anxious when they’d walk streets at night together, and anyone who looked at them funny would instantly sour his mood.

But those were his twenties. When he hit his thirties, he mostly got over it, and scoffed at those who questioned either of them. He ran the LGBT+ club in the high school he taught at, and referred to Eddie as his husband with no hesitation whatsoever. He learned to be okay with who he was.

It was weird, seeing him go back to old ways.

Which speaking of, Eddie didn’t even realize he was doing the same.

Just an hour away from what was home, and Richie stopped for gas. When he came back in the car, he threw Eddie a sponge cake.

Eddie looks at it in disgust. “What’s this?”

“I got you a snack,” Richie says simply.

“I can’t eat this.”

Richie’s brow raises. “Why’s that?”

“Rich, first of all, it’s from a gas station, second, I know for a fact that sponge cakes contain soy. Soy is a very common food allergy, part of the major allergens family. I could be allergic to soy, allergies can develop later in life and I can’t take that kind of risk.”

Richie stares at him in complete disbelief. “Huh?”

Eddie blinks a few times, unsure why that just came out his mouth. He hasn’t cared about things like that in a long time. The longer he was content with Richie, the easier it was to put his bad thoughts behind him. It was easy to get over his anxious, hypochondriac thoughts when instead of an extremely controlling mother he had a boyfriend who rarely took a thing seriously.

“I’m not allergic to soy, am I?” Eddie asks him, feeling disordered.

“No, you’ve never been,” Richie assures. “Everything okay, baby?”

“I think so,” he mumbles, trying to unwrap his snack. It’s fine. It’s harmless. This food isn’t bad.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it.”

“No, no it’s fine- I don’t know what I was talking about,” Eddie shrugs and starts putting it in his mouth. “I think I’ve been in the car too long. I’m getting all neurotic.”

Richie looks at him sympathetically, then grabs his hand to give his palm a kiss. That makes Eddie smile.

-

The Losers reunion went so much better than Richie and Eddie had thought it would. The two of them entered the reserved room with held hands. Richie announced their presence by banging the symbol, to which Eddie scolded him for with a light smack to the arm. Everyone was delighted to see them, and each shared their hug. The couple wondered why they were so worried in the first place.

“Wait, so, Eddie- you got married?” Bev asks tauntingly.

“Yeah, to dipshit over here,” he thumbs to Richie, who’s sitting right beside him.

“He scored some real sex appeal, if you ask me,” Richie chimes in.

“How long have you guys been together?” Ben asks cheerfully.

“Twenty-four years and three months,” Richie answers without a beat.

“Since high school,” Eddie elaborates.

“I always knew you two had a thing for each other,” Bill laughs. “Even as kids, you were always joined at the hip at all times.”

“Still are,” Eddie admits honestly with a bright smile. “I like him. I’m happy.”

“Marrying your best friend is actually the best thing one can possibly do,” Richie prides. “Though a bonus for me is his tight, compact little body-“

“Your talking privileges are over!” Eddie shouts over him. “Beep, beep, Rich.”

The others laugh. “I remember that! We all used to say that to him,” Bev giggles. “Used to call him-“

“Trashmouth!” Bill shouts.

“Trashmouth! Yes!” Eddie says with excitement. “I’ve been calling him that for years. How did I forget that was his well known title?”

“I honestly thought it was your cute little pet name for me,” Richie shrugs.

“So did I,” Eddie adds. “Gosh, I can’t believe I forgot we collectively called him that. Not just me.”

“How did you and Richie manage to remember each other?” Mike asks, strange enough.

Eddie finds the question a bit odd, smile faltering slightly, but answers anyhow. “We uh, we never left each other’s side. We left town together, we’ve always lived together. I know it’s seems surprising, but we actually get along really well.”

“He’s the Bert to my Ernie,” Richie professes.

“I’m the Thelma to his Louise,” Eddie jokes back.

“The MJ to my Spider-Man,” Richie prides.

“Why can’t I be Harry?”

“You’re totally right. You’re Harry.”

“I’m surprised your mom let you,” Bev says suddenly, in the midst of their banter.

Despite not quite understanding at the question, a pit already sits in Eddie’s stomach. His cheerful expression drops. “What do you mean?”

“Let you leave town, I mean,” Bev explains softly. “She was really hard on you. I’m glad you were able to get out of it, really, I’m proud of you.”

Eddie should say something, like ‘thank you’. But the words ring in his head like church bells.

She was really hard on you. She was, wasn’t she? What was she like again? It always made him too sad to think about her. Not only had she passed away, but they were never on the best of terms. So he didn’t really think about her. He didn’t really remember.

He’s starting to remember now, how she was. How scared he was of her. How trapped he felt with her. This town makes him feel trapped. Reminds him of how helpless he really used to be back then. He feels like a little boy all over again, spending time with his friends, but knowing soon enough he’ll have to go back home to her. Have to face the forced medications. Have to listen to her lectures that he’s very sick, in more ways than one. He feels so small, right now.

He’s snapped back to reality when he feels Richie grab his hand under the table, giving it a squeeze. Richie gives him a worried, but supportive look. He must’ve spaced out there. He wants to feel ashamed, but the way Richie’s rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand, he’d rather focus on that instead. Anything to get his mind off his old home.

“Yeah, she sucked,” Richie continues the conversation. “I can remember that much. If I’m being totally honest, she was my first choice. To elope with, I mean. Heartbreakingly enough she turned me down, so her son was the next best thing-“

“Oh my god, shut up,” Eddie groans, beginning to brighten again. He pushes the troubled thoughts behind him. The group laughs.

-

Laughter doesn’t laugh long.

This night has gone completely downhill. They remember it all now. At least they think they do, maybe there’s more, but the memories they currently hold are quite enough.

Mike explained it to them. Something happens, when you leave Derry. The further you go, the hazier it gets. Mike never left, so he remembered everything. Eddie and Richie never left each other, which is how they couldn’t forget one another, and how stray bits and pieces still followed them, like carved initials and splash fights in the lake.

Eddie wishes the pleasant memories were all he remembered. He’s glad that he remembers his friends. But it’s costly. He remembers Pennywise, and now he’s learned that there’s an inevitable death upon not only him, but Richie, if they don’t find a way to stop this inter-dimensional man-eater.

He finally remembered Stan, and it was too late, because he’s dead now. He never even got a chance to get to know who he might’ve been. He was too late. He knew it was hurting Richie just as much.

The memories of his mom are getting clearer. As are all the other traumatic memories, like breaking his arm, attacks from Bowers and his gang, fighting for his life at Neibolt.

Was Derry better to forget this whole time? It’s possible. He loves the Losers, he loves his friends, but he currently feels like if he had a chance to simply go back to his old life with Richie like this wasn’t happening, he’d just take it.

But he can’t.

Richie wakes up on his own. There’s nothing specific that wakes him, just a subconscious sense that the man beside him was up to something. He rolls over slowly, and he’s right. Eddie’s sitting up straight, staring at the bedroom door. They’re in their shared room at the Inn, having to rest for tomorrow’s day. They need it, with how overwhelming today alone was. Richie glances at the digital clock on the bedside table and sees that it’s two in the morning.

“Eds, my love,” he mumbles. “Why are you awake?”

Eddie’s startled by his voice. He hadn’t realized he had awoken. He looks down at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Richie puts a lazy hand to his lower back and rubs circles. “Come lay down. Mike said we’re up early morning. We need our beauty sleep.”

Eddie nods, but he doesn’t move. He won’t tear his eyes away from the door.

“Eddie?” He tries more gentle. “Can you come lay with me?”

“I’m scared that something’s going to happen,” he admits. “I’m scared that I’ll let my guard down, and something’s gonna get you.”

“There are no monsters in my closet,” Richie says. “Or under my bed.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. He still stares at the door. “Maybe we should go. Sneak out now. We can go home.”

“Eds, we can’t. You know that.”

Eddie frowns deeply. “I haven’t been this anxious in such a long time. I don’t like the feeling.”

At that, Richie sits up. He wraps an arm around him and peppers kisses at the top of his head. “We’re gonna be okay. Okay? It’s going to be okay. But I need you to get some sleep, baby. Whatever happens tomorrow, I really need you alert.”

Eddie lays his head on his arm, sighing heavily. “I can’t look away. IT might come. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s sweet. My short little Prince Charming. Why don’t we just take turns, hm? I’ll keep watch now, for a few hours. Just lay down.”

Eddie nods shakily. Richie stays sitting up, and Eddie lowers himself into a curled up position, resting his forehead against the side of Richie’s thigh. Richie lovingly plays with his hair until he hears him snoring.

He was right, though. He hadn’t been this anxious in a long time. Richie hadn’t seen him this anxious in a long time. Panic attacks were still common for Eddie, and he couldn’t go more than a couple months without one. But right now he was a shaky mess. He only got like this when things were really bad, like when his mom had passed away.

Richie can only hope that they’ll make their way out of this. Hope is all he’s got.

Chapter Text

Eddie returns from his terrible journey covered in sticky black vomit. Definitely not one of his better days. He misses Richie badly, feels weird to be so out of their routine, so separated from him. He misses back scratches late at night in their bed, exchanged looks of judgment at a stranger in the grocery store, watching Richie not even look up from his phone to already lift his feet up in the air so Eddie can reach with his vacuum.

Speaking of his husband, he rushes upstairs and when he opens the door there he is, packing up all of their belongings for him.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He snips, and looks at Eddie once, then a second time with widened eyes. “The hell happened to you?”

“The Leper- Richie, why the hell are you packing?”

“‘Cause we’re leaving,” he answers simply, moving to the next area to pack.

“We already talked about this,” he reminds him. “We already agreed we’re staying.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Richie, we’re not going to leave them here. We have to stay.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he retorts, getting down on his knees to fiddle with another bag. Eddie brought a lot of bags.

“You’re being really unreasonable right now,” Eddie scolds, crossing his arms.

“Look,” he seems angry, but the shake in his voice makes him non-threatening. “We’re leaving, and that’s final.”

“Oh so you’ve made the decision for the both of us then?” The shorter man sasses aggressively.

“With or without you, I’m going- I don’t care,” he snaps.

Eddie’s taken back by this. So is Richie.

“I’m sorry,” he instantly says, ducking his head shamefully. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s okay. Just, tell me what’s going on.”

Richie shrinks in on himself. The room’s silent, and they’re so distressed they seem to both be forgetting that Eddie’s still soaked in bile.

“I just want to go,” he mumbles.

“Why?”

Richie shrugs.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie pleads. He squats down to Richie’s level to look him in the eye. “Don’t start pushing me away. Not now. Not after everything. Richie, I need you. I need us to be a team, the way we always are.”

Richie looks up at him solemnly. “I can’t stay here. I don’t feel safe, I don’t feel good. I just want to go home with you. Besides our friends, I don’t want to remember anything else about this town.”

“I know,” he assures. “Believe me, I know. We’re gonna get through this, okay? Soon enough we’ll be back home. I’ll take you to that arcade place you like near downtown, hm? With the bowling alley?”

Richie brightens up some. “Date?”

“It’ll be a ‘We Survived A Psychotic Clown’ date,” Eddie smiles warmly.

Richie smiles the best he can. “Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Eddie has an urge to kiss him, like they always do after communicating, but he remembers he’s disgusting. “Can I kiss you after I intensely scrub off my entire body?”

“Yes, please don’t kiss me until after you’ve cleaned up. You smell putrid.”

“Thanks,” Eddie grins before heading into the bathroom. He pokes his head out again. “Can you go find Mike and figure out where the fuck we go from here?”

“Uhh, I think he’s at the library?” Richie thinks, scratching the back of his head.

“Well could you maybe drive up there? I tried calling him, he won’t answer.”

“You’re sending me out there on my own?” He pouts.

“Bring Ben.”

Richie groans. “No, no I’ll go.”

“Try calling him first, then if he doesn’t answer, go,” Eddie states. “You’ll be okay. If anything in the slightest happens, you call me, got it?”

Richie shuffles his feet. “I don’t like leaving you alone this much.”

“Richie, hey,” Eddie gives intimate eye contact. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

He doesn’t actually believe it, but he doesn’t want his partner to be so anxious.

Richie sighs. “Okay. Farewell stinky. Smell ya later.”

“Mhm,” Eddie smirks and mostly closes the bathroom door. Little did he know that’d be a mistake.

Twenty or thirty minutes later, he’s stabbed in the face by Bowers. Bev and Ben clean him up as best they can on the Inn steps. Bev patches up his cheek, and beforehand helps Eddie change into cleaner clothes, for he couldn’t stand the smell of them any longer, especially when he’s now bleeding at the face. Ben tries to get ahold of anyone.

“Nobody’s answering,” he grumbles into his phone. “Shit.”

“Richie’s not answering?” Eddie feels a tightness in his throat. “Where’s my cellphone? Give me my cellphone.”

“Eddie- just- hold on,” Beverly stops him from getting up with a hand to his shoulder, still finishing the bandage on his cheek. Ben speeds into the bedroom and hands him his own phone.

He tries to call, and the longer the ringing drones on, the more his heart sinks. “Do you- do you think Bowers?-“

“Richie just left not that long ago, sweetheart, Bowers wouldn’t be able to get to here and there that fast,” Bev assures.

“Well shit, for an old dude with a stab wound he moved pretty fucking quick,” Eddie fidgets with the phone in his hand, fingers shaking as he sends another text. “Richie always answers. I don’t like this.”

He starts to stand up. Both of his friends try stopping him. “Woah, hey, Eddie, you’ve just been stitched up, please-“ Ben starts.

“I don’t have time for this,” Eddie huffs. “You guys head to the library. I’ll drive around and see if I can catch any of them.” He’s thinking especially his husband, though he doesn’t admit this.

Bev gently grabs his arm. “I’ll come with you too. Is that okay Ben? Are you okay with checking the library on your own?”

Ben swallows heavily, but nods. “Of course.”

He and Beverly are driving up and down streets, looking out their windows and keeping their ringers on for any possible calls. Bev’s the one driving, as if a face wound could prevent him from driving (said out loud by Eddie himself).

“How’s your face feeling?” She tries asking.

He makes a miserable noise in response. “Hurts to talk.”

She makes a clicking noise. “I’m really sorry buddy. I hope I stitched right. Hey- when all this is over, we’ll take you to a real hospital, okay?-“

“Wait, wait, wait,” he jerks his head out the window. “Slow down. Right here.”

She does as she’s told, and leisurely moves towards what used to be Eddie’s old house. A growing ache is in his chest the longer he stares, and as he squints his eyes to get a better look, an overwhelming flashback overcomes him in an instant.

“You sure this will be okay?” Richie’s voice calls for him. In this memory he’s a young boy, freshly eighteen, and Eddie, just as young, didn’t know he could be this in love with a person.

They were pulled up in front of his childhood home. Where his mother remained to be confronted.

“My bags are already packed up in my room,” he explains. “I’ll just grab them and go, okay?”

Richie gives him a worried look. “I should maybe go in there with you-“

“I think that might make it worse,” Eddie says. “I’ll be ten minutes max- okay?”

Richie is visibly uncomfortable, but nods. Eddie gives him a faulty smile and gets out of the car.

He’s still hyping himself up on his way up the steps. He takes a breath, opens the door, and steps inside. He tries to speed down the hall as quick and quiet as he can, but the voice makes him freeze up.

“Where have you been?” She says. She glares at him, enraged on the couch, where she often is.

“You know where I was,” he does his best to sound brave. “I’m just coming to get my stuff.”

“And then what?”

He doesn’t answer, knows if he keeps going back and forth he’ll be there all day. He practically runs to his room, putting on his backpack and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Before he exits again he takes one last look at his bedroom. Remembers all the terrible memories here. How many times his mother locked him away like some prized possession. And he also remembers how many times Richie rapped a fist on his window, how they first started sharing a bed together in this very room. Their secret. He holds onto those memories tightly, and turns out the door.

He’s walking to the front door, only facing what’s ahead of him. Of course, she’ll do anything to keep him around another minute.

“So what? That’s it?” She already starts to sound hysterical. “You’re just going to leave me?”

It works. He stops in his tracks, turns to look at her. He grips his backpack strap tightly. “You were never my responsibility.”

“And he is?” She scoffs.

“We take care of each other,” he says calmly.

“Eddie, you’re sick. He’s put these, sick, disgusting ideas in your head-“

“I’m not sick. See- that’s your whole problem,” he couldn’t imagine speaking to her again after this, so might as well let it out one last time. “Your obsession with controlling me, with controlling who I am, is exactly how you lost me. I want you to know that.”

“You’re being foolish,” she grits. “You’re gonna move out at freshly eighteen? For what? Love? You’re smarter than this. You won’t last a second. You won’t survive-“

“Anything’s better than here,” he retorts.

“You think he’ll still love you a year from now?”

His body stiffens.

“He’ll leave you. Just like the rest of them,” she smiles maliciously. “The redhead girl. Bill. That- that Ben boy- they’ve all left, haven’t they? All these friends that you’ve picked over me, they left you. And that boy will leave you too. He’ll leave you alone, and dirty, and then what will you do? You’ll have no one but me, and I won’t be there.”

Eddie stares deeply at her. The crazed look in her eyes. She’s desperate, he tells himself. She’ll say anything to get her way. He takes one last look, and a final, deep breath. “Goodbye, mum.”

He slams the door and heads down the steps. He takes a nervous look over his shoulder, wondering if at any second the door will open and she’ll try chasing him out. It’s happened before. But she doesn’t.

He slumps in the passenger seat, carefully tossing his bags in the back seat.

“Everything okay?” Richie says.

The sweetness in his tone almost startles him. He turns to look at Richie, and in that moment it truly hits him that this person is going to be his new home. It’s too good to be true, yet it’s more real than ever. He cups Richie’s jaw and kisses him soft and slow. When he finally pulls away, Richie has this surprised look on his face, like he still isn’t used to it after two years of doing it already.

“Let’s go,” Eddie says quietly, taking one last look out the window at his house. It all felt extremely bittersweet.

Richie gently takes one of his hands and kisses his palm. “We’ll be okay, Eds.”

He genuinely smiles at that.

Eddie blinks away the heavy memory, and feels a great sorrow. Wherever Richie is, he needs him to be okay. He needs him.

-

He quickly meets up with Ben and Beverly at the library to find only chaos. On the floor was Mike, a dead Bowers, and some vomit that Eddie already knew was Richie’s. His husband had the tendency of getting nauseous when stressed.

“You alright?” Ben asks.

“No I’m not alright- I just fucking killed a guy!” Richie shouts.

“I was talking about Mike,” Ben replies awkwardly.

Eddie’s still letting the shock set in that there was a murdered man in his home town library, but he’s pulled out of it when Richie calls his name.

“Eddie,” he strains, practically running to him and frantically holding his face. “Eddie- Eds, baby- what happened?”

“Ow- just, easy on it,” Eddie stammers, putting his hand over top of the hand on his bandaged cheek. “I got stabbed in the face by Bowers earlier. But I’m fine-“

“Jesus Christ,” Richie grits. He keeps one hand still on Eddie’s face, but turns to threateningly point at Mike. “Y’know, we were doing just fucking fine before you called us-“

“Richie,” Eddie says sternly, grabbing ahold of his arm. “I said I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine,” Richie raises his voice. “You got stabbed in the fucking face. I just murdered someone. Bill’s fucking missing. Oh, and we have an evil clown alien craving our human flesh-“

“Richie, sit down,” he pulls him by the arm to come sit at a library table with him. The others try to get ahold of Bill on their phones. Richie buries his head in his hands and nervously bounces his leg. Eddie empathizes by rubbing his back.

“Look, we both know that I’m the king of freak outs,” Eddie starts.

“More like queen,” Richie mumbles.

“Oh now you wanna make jokes?” He raises a brow. “Moving on. Do you know how I’m still able to keep pushing through this?”

Richie manages to look at him at that.

“Because we’re going to get through this. We always do. Everything you and I have been through together, we survived it. We’ll survive this too.”

Richie responds with a sincere look on his face, and nods quietly. Eddie smiles at him adoringly. He takes his sleeve and wipes at the blood splattered all over his face.

“You got Bowers-blood on your face,” he says, and somehow manages to make it sound completely affectionate.

“Well you got Bowers-stab-wound on your face,” he retorts, but starts to smile.

“Do you think it’ll scar?” Eddie suddenly worries.

Richie hesitates. “Well-“

“Jesus,” Eddie rubs at his temple. “You won’t mind, will you?”

“You’ll still be just as mind-blowingly sexy as you always are,” Richie assures, leaning in and kissing the side of his head.

Eddie grabs ahold of his hand and squeezes. “I tried calling you. Why didn’t you pick up?” He asks softly.

Richie wriggles in his seat. “I’m sorry. I… I drove by Stan’s synagogue. I just- lost myself in there. And then I came here. I haven’t looked at my phone, I’m really sorry for that.”

Eddie looks at him sadly. “Oh Richie,” he sympathizes, and pulls him in for an awkward but comforting embrace. “I know. I miss him too. It hurts, to remember him and lose him all at once.”

“When we got married, we invited the friends we made, but I think something in us knew it wasn’t the same. That’s why neither of us had a best man,” Richie mumbles in his shoulder. “I think the reason I didn’t, was because it would’ve been Stan. I don’t think I would’ve lost contact with him, if I had the choice. I wish I had the choice.”

Eddie tangles fingers in his hair. “I know.”

“We’ll probably have to get into therapy again,” he tries to joke.

Eddie slips out a chuckle. “Oh absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Eddie was frozen.

Why the fuck was he frozen?

He’s been able to keep it together all this time- and now- at this very moment- now he decides to let it all come crashing down?

The decapitated head of a young Stanley, had come tumbling out of the fridge Pennywise once had slithered from, in front of Eddie and his broken arm all those years ago. Then, his old friend’s head began growing spider legs, and this is when Eddie’s fears overtook him completely, like that sight was just about enough for his poor stability. It began crawling to them, and while Bill and Richie had shouted and kicked at it, he had backed into a corner of the room and tried and failed not to have a panic attack.

“Eddie,” Richie had come up to him, when he thought the coast was clear. “You okay?”

But before Eddie could open his mouth to speak, Richie was attacked. He was pounced on so quickly that for a second Eddie thought maybe that was over, maybe Richie had died right there and then. But then he was screaming, screaming for someone to help him, someone to get this thing off of him. And Eddie just froze. He was so unbelievably terrified of everything going on that he shut down completely.

He couldn’t move.

Richie was going to die. They were all going to die- but Richie, his husband, was going to die. And he’s having a severe anxiety attack, and Bill’s yelling at him to help, yet he can’t move, yet he’s a coward, and why can’t he move, and why now-

Ben suddenly appears, and he stabs the spider-head repeatedly, then Bill throws it against the wall, and it’s weakly making its retreat. Richie starts coughing and wheezing, whimpering that he can’t see a thing, because his glasses have been thrown elsewhere.

It’s over. Or it’s not, because Eddie’s still frozen in the corner, staring at his lover struggling on the floor.

Bill’s in front of him, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the wall, shouting at him, but he can’t pull his eyes away from Richie.

“He could’ve f-fucking died man- y-you know that right?!” Bill yells. “Georgie’s dead, and the kid’s dead, Stan- Stanley’s dead! Y-you want Richie too?! YOU WANT RICHIE TOO?!”

“I don’t want Richie to- I don’t- I don’t-“ he stammers, feeling the tears fill his eyes. “I don’t know why I- I’m sorry.”

He watches as Mike has to try and pull Bill back from absolutely throttling him, and Beverly’s comforting Richie on the floor, and it’s too much for him. He shrinks in on himself, feeling thirteen all over again, maybe younger, and he feels pathetic for it, but can’t seem to stop himself.

“Please don’t be mad Bill,” he begs. “I was just scared.”

Bill looks at him with a mixture of pity and disappointment. “T-t-that’s what he w-wants right? Don’t give it to him.”

He turns and walks away. They all do, moving along in their painful expedition. Bev helps Richie stand on his own two feet, who stumbles towards Eddie, who’s still frozen in the corner, beginning to sob.

He holds his shoulders gently. “Eddie, hey. It’s okay, baby. I’m okay,” he whispers. “That wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.”

Eddie sniffles, feeling unworthy of any comfort, but feeling too vulnerable to give any fight to it. He lets Richie kiss his temple, then wrap an arm around him to keep them moving.

Eddie isn’t the same after that. He disassociates as they journey downward. Richie keeps a hand on him, or holds his hand as they walk, and keeps muttering reassurances to him, that it’s okay, that he’s okay, that it wasn’t his fault. Eddie wants to let the words sink in, but he feels terrible. His guilt has swallowed him whole.

He was what his mother always said. Fragile. Weak. Incapable of surviving.

They make it to the door that leads to the very bottom of the sewers. Mike goes down first. They watch Bill go second. And Eddie just cracks.

“You guys, I can’t do it,” he strains.

They all turn to look at him, Richie looking the most concerned.

“I can’t, you saw- you saw what happened up there,” he stammers. “I was gonna let you- I was gonna let my own husband die.”

He can barely look Richie in the eyes, but can still see the heartache lying there.

“I just fucking froze up. I don’t- I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he stresses. He can feel another panic attack coming along quickly, and he grabs for his inhaler, the habit he used to know so well. “If you let me go down there with you, I’ll get us all killed.”

He goes to take an inhale when Richie tries snatching the medicine right out of his hand. Eddie puts up a good fight, playing tug of war with him for it.

“Hey- hey- gimme that-“ Richie says.

“Richie-“

“Give me that- let go, you little turd-“

“Let me just-“

Richie shines the flashlight in his eyes. “Stop.”

“Alright- I got it!” Eddie says defeated, dropping his arm to his side. Richie curls his fingers around that hand, holding it.

“Listen to me,” he lowers to a softer tone. “You had a moment. Fine. But who killed a psychotic clown before he was fourteen?”

Eddie thinks hard for a moment, eyebrows furrowed tightly. “Me.”

“Who stabbed Bowers with a knife he pulled out of his own face?”

He looks to the ground modestly. “Also me.”

“Who married a guy five times his own body mass?”

Eddie’s confused for a second, then glowers up at Richie. “Me.”

“Yeah,” he nods assuringly.

Eddie can see the adoration in his eyes, how much he really means to him, even though he doesn’t feel that he deserves it. He doesn’t deserve someone as good as Richie, he never has. And yet he’s been by his side all this time. Eddie looks down to the ground, trying to let the words sink in.

Richie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re braver than you think.”

Eddie looks up at him then, feeling overwhelmed in more ways than one. “Thanks, Rich,” he mumbles.

Richie beams at him, like he’s everything. Like he isn’t getting old, or isn’t wearing a huge bloodied bandage on his face, or isn’t absolutely covered in grime and grey water. He still looks at Eddie like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

He affectionately pats his cheek, unfortunately the damaged one, making Eddie wince. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he quickly says, leaning in to very lightly kiss that cheek. “Sorry.”

-

Eddie and Richie been running for their lives through the dark cavern tunnels for the last ten minutes, eventually discovering light from the gruesome deadlights in the open center. They carefully peak behind a wall and watch as the colossal creature chases down their friends. Suddenly Mike trips on his feet and slams hard on the ground, leaving him completely helpless to IT now looming above him. It taunts him with its scratchy laughter, and begins unhinging its jaw and revealing its rows of teeth.

Richie turns to face Eddie, giving him a quick wink of assurance, a humorous way of saying things will be just fine. Eddie instantly knows what he’ll do next, and goes to grab his arm.

“Richie- wait-“ but he slips through his grasp, and it’s too late.

Richie runs out and throws a rock at Pennywise’s head. “HEY FUCK FACE!” He screams.

IT turns angrily.

“Wanna play truth or dare? Here’s a truth- you’re a sloppy bitch!” He picks up another rock to throw. “Let’s dance! Yipee-ki-yay motherf-“

And just like that, he’s caught in the deadlights.

Richie’s a witness of something indescribably horrible, but he can’t remember it when it’s over. All he knows is it shook him to his core, and in the next minute he was collapsing from a great height. The back of his head slams so hard onto the rock surface that he gets a flash of white in his vision. He groans in pain.

He can hear the sounds of choking, loud enough to echo against the cavern walls.

“Richie!” He’s being called.

The pain is sharp, surges through his skull, and he’s so dizzy that his eyes can’t stop flickering. He’s struggling to stay awake. He feels a voice he’d recognize anywhere continue to call for him, getting closer. Suddenly Eddie was crawled over top of him and trying to shake him awake.

“Hey! Richie! Wake up! Hey!” Eddie shouts, getting more distressed by each word.

Richie finally peels his eyelids back completely, staring at Eddie in bewilderment and shock.

“Yeah! There he is!” Eddie cheers. “Richie, honey, I think I killed it.”

He can still hear the sounds of pitiful struggles from what he realizes is IT himself. Eddie did it. Despite Eddie’s fears of being useful he had killed IT, this overpowered being, and he did it while saving him. Richie’s heart couldn’t feel any fuller than now.

Eddie turns his head over his shoulder once more, then turning back to Richie excitedly. “I did! I think I killed it!”

Richie begins to smile, begins to laugh in relief. He wants to tell him how proud he is, that he really was braver than he ever believed, he wanted to kiss him in triumph. He wants to do so many things, but his head’s still reeling in from the deadlights. So he just looks up at him in disbelief and adoration, so thankful that it’s over. Than can go home now. They can get past this.

“I think I killed it for real!-“

It all happens so quick.

Richie can barely register the blood splattering everywhere, until it’s there, all smeared on his lenses, found in his mouth and nostrils. There’s blood all over his face. There’s blood all over Eddie.

There’s a thick, rugged talon right through Eddie’s abdomen. He gasps harshly, head jerking back and coughing heavily. Richie looks at everything in front of him, and nothing feels real to him.

It can’t be real to him. This can’t be real. He just stares at Eddie in complete devastation, and Eddie stares right back, seeming just as devastated, though being much more in physical agony.

His shaking hands hover over his severe wound, and he looks down at it, then looks back at Richie. His eyes are so big, so sad. They got like that at the worst of times. They got like that whenever the two would be in a rough argument, and Richie said something that crossed the line, something that cut deep. For some reason, that’s what he thinks about right now.

“Richie,” Eddie struggles to speak, blood dripping from his mouth. “Richie.”

He calls for him like it’s all he knows to say, like there’s something Richie can do for him. Richie doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s frozen. He can’t move. He just stares in horror.

And only in another second, the talon still deep in him, he’s thrown across the cavern, landing with a loud thud on the other side and rolling down somewhere deeper. Pennywise’s laughter pounds in his ears. Richie feels helpless in watching, his eyes burning but too shocked to cry. He begins crawling on all fours, then moving on his feet and beginning to run in that direction.

His friends follow, all screaming for Eddie, but Richie gets there first. He slides on his heels down into the widened hole, and instantly he’s crouching down, hands already on his lover, who’s lying limp face down. He’s able to breathe again once he hears a groan come out of Eddie. His friends help roll him over, propping him up so that he’s sitting, but his back can lay against a wall.

Richie takes a good look at the state of him. There’s so much blood. His chest heaves, and he’s wheezing. It’s bad. It’s really really bad.

“Okay- okay- um-“ he shakes his jacket off his shoulders and uses it to put pressure on Eddie’s wound. The smaller man shouts in pain at the touch, breaking Richie’s heart further. He puts his free hand on his face. Eddie leans into the touch, looking up at him weakly, still struggling in every breath. “Eddie. Hey. Look at me. It’s okay. It’s- it’s not that bad. It’s okay.”

He’s trying so hard to sound chipper, but he’s stuttering, and his face feels wet, and he realizes then that he is crying, even though his face feels completely numb. He turns to his friends. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

“How are we supposed to do that right now, Richie?” Bev stresses.

Richie looks up at her in distress. Then back at Eddie. His wound looks worser by the minute.

“Not Eddie,” he mumbles, more to himself. “Not my Eddie. I can’t. I can’t-“

“I almost had it,” Eddie suddenly speaks, barely a whisper. “The leper. My hands were at its throat. I could feel him choking. And he was small. He seemed so weak.”

Richie doesn’t know what any of this means, his mind feeling on fire. But Mike seems to gather a solution from the explanation, and they come up with a plan. Richie’s not listening to any of it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything else. He just wants to take Eddie home.

-

Eddie’s looking right at him. Richie’s looking away, watching the others, because every time he takes a glance at his wounded partner the despair washes over his face all over again. His hand’s pressed tight on his deep gash, the blood staining his wedding ring. For some bittersweet reason, the sight makes Eddie smile. ‘Til death do us part and all.

He weakly grabs the hand on his abdomen, trying to squeeze it with all the strength he’s got. “I love you,” he slurs.

“Shut up,” Richie’s voice cracks.

“Rich-“

“I don’t want to hear some tragic, cliché, brink-of-death goodbye, Eds,” he strains, still not looking at him. “You’re not dying. Don’t say I love you like it’s some goodbye.”

“Hey,” he lifts his other hand with all the energy he’s got, and puts it to Richie’s cheek. Blood smears on the side of his face from his hand. He tilts Richie’s head so he can face him. Richie’s mouth is already quivering. He looks terrified.

“I love you,” Eddie croaks. “‘N it’s gonna be okay.”

Richie takes his free hand to the hand on his face. He grips Eddie’s wrist so tightly it burns, though Eddie won’t admit it. Tears begin to fall from his eyes, and his breathing hitches.

“I love you too,” he whimpers. He tries to find more words to say, but breaks down even further, his shoulders trembling. Eddie brushes away the tears with his thumb, despite feeling growingly dizzy.

Richie shakes his head frantically. “No. No, no, no, no,” he mumbles over and over. He takes a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here. I’m right here, Eddie. I love you.”

The background sound booms like thunder, and the blue deadlights above crack like lightning. They both turn their heads and watch as their friends corner the monster, as IT shrinks and cowers away from them. They shout and hurl their insults, which is looking to be the solution to its demise. Richie screams his own insults towards IT, and that’s the most he’ll contribute, because he’s not leaving his husband’s side.

It’s almost over. They’re finally, actually finishing the job. Yet nothing about it feels celebratory, not if Richie has to lose Eddie. He already lost Stan, and that grief alone was suffocating. He has no idea what he’ll do if he has to lose Eddie.

“You’re everything to me,” Richie blurts. “You know that? You’re my everything. So I- I can’t. Not you. Please. You have to fight.”

Eddie tries to make a hum in response, but it comes out hoarse and painful. He lets out a few coughs, tasting the bitterness of his own blood. “I promised you… an arcade date. It would be rude of me not to keep that promise.”

Richie manages to laugh bitterly at that. “That’s right. So you’re gonna be alright. It’s gonna be okay, my Spaghetti-Man.”

Eddie almost laughs as well. “Richie… how many times do I have to tell you. Don’t call me that…. You know I…”

And as he tries to think over what to say, he falls unconscious.

-

Eddie’s awakening comes in little spurts. For the most part he’s unable to move, but can hear voices. He keeps weakly drifting in and out of his unconscious state and he’s unsure for how long. When he finally fully awakes, he’s gagging on his feeding tube and feeling just how much pain he’s really in. They remove his tube, give him some kind of morphine, and he’s right back asleep.

He fully awakes his second time a lot calmer. He flutters his eyes open and winces at the sun peering through the cracks of the blinds. The only sounds are conversation outside of this room and the rhythmic beeping of the machines. He rolls his head to the other side, and is surprised to find that Richie is beside him so quietly. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms propped up on the bed and his head buried in them. The top of his head nudges into Eddie’s side. From his position he wasn’t sure if Richie was crying, or sleeping, or just laying here. He puts a hand in his hair and starts petting it lovingly.

Richie lifts his head up right away. The sight of him breaks Eddie’s heart. There were deep, dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes. His hair was more mess than usual, his facial hair slowly developing into a beard. His face was more sunken, he’d visibly lost weight.

Eddie started caressing his face. “Richie,” he croaks, not realizing how dry his throat really is.

Just like that, Richie grabs him a juice box by the bedside and hands it to him. He uses one hand to hold it, sucking from the straw, and the other rubs at the side of Richie’s face, petting the side burns and admiring the grown hair.

“Honey, you look terrible,” Eddie says. “When’s the last time you ate something? The last time you showered.”

He leans into the touch and sighs. “You’ve been in a coma for six days.”

The first thing that comes to Eddie’s mind is what that must’ve been like for his husband. “Baby, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been really difficult.”

He shakes his head, looking to the ground. “It’s not your fault.”

He tugs on Richie’s shirt, filled with both sorrow and desire. “Come here.”

Richie stands up, looming over him. Eddie cups his face and kisses him softly. Richie’s always slightly surprised by the tenderness it holds. Even after so many years.

“You’ve had multiple surgeries,” he explains. “They all went well. And the nurse said your stitching is healing up nicely. They say in the next week or less, you can check out.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums, rubbing at one of his arms. “That’s good.”

“You’ll have to be on bed rest for at least a month,” he goes on. “You have stick to a very specific diet- not forever, just as you heal. I got given a list of things you can’t eat- you can’t have carbonated drinks, or spicy food.”

“Not much of a loss,” Eddie tries to smile. Richie tries smiling back. Then he says, “is it over?”

Richie swallows heavily, understanding what that means. “It’s over.”

Eddie feels laughter bubbling in his throat, and he can’t help but giggle from relief. He kisses Richie three more times, and when trying a fourth he moved too roughly and winces at his abdomen. Richie holds him steady with his hands.

“Do you want to go on vacation?” He says. “I think we deserve a vacation.”

“Can vacation equal to taking work off and staying at home?” Eddie mumbles. “Because I’ve had enough traveling for a long while.”

“Your stay-at-home vacation can be you on bedrest and me spoon-feeding you yoghurt?”

“Perfect,” Eddie grins.