#( truly some questions asked by some richie guy )

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |12|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killing, Talks of Murder

Word Count: 2.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Tara ran off almost instantly after Mindy said the shrine would be the killers lair, then pointed out this wasn’t a normal Stab movie. Sam moved to go after her sister, despite trying to play everything as normal and as if the attack last year changed nothing, she knew Tara was struggling. Kirby waved her off though and said she’d check on Tara herself. Sam frowned but she knew it was probably better if Kirby went, she had been through this before and every time Sam tried to talk to Tara it almost always ended in an argument.

Sam turned back to the display case that contained the cloak of Billy Loomis. Her eyes trailed from the white mask down to the blood knife at the bottom. So, many lives were ruined just by Billy putting on a stupid costume. She wasn’t sure who could possibly be after them this time, though she didn’t expect her boyfriend to be the bad guy last time either. Whoever was coming after them did their research though, they had everything from each of the Ghostface attacks, going back all the way to the very beginning. She noticed there was even a small display about Sidney’s mom, the murder that started it all.

Sam didn’t know how to protect everyone. Two random kids were killed, which Sam couldn’t care too much about because they were apparently planning to kill her and her sister, but then she was attacked at the gym, she only survived because of you. Since then, the attack at the bodega and then the attack at the apartment, everyone had only survived because of you. She didn’t know where they’d be without you, who else would be dead. She knew she still had to be cautious around you, but you were proving more and more that you were trustworthy and nothing like Richie.

The floor creaked behind her, and she froze. She slowly lifted her head to see you through the glass, standing behind her. You hadn’t said a word, you hadn’t pressed her for answers too hard, answers you rightly deserved. She owed you an explanation about everything, who she was and why this was all happening. You knew who she was, but Sam owed it to you to tell you everything from her own mouth.

“Are you okay?” You asked, finally breaking the silence.

Sam turned around and saw you looking at her with nothing but concern. She wasn’t sure how you could see all of this, see this mess that went all the way back to her birth father and not flinch. There was still no judgement in your eyes, you were looking at Sam with the same kindness you always had. Your first question since seeing all this wasn’t to demand an explanation or ask who any of these people were, you just asked if she was okay, you truly were too good for her.

“Why are you still here?” Sam asked as she spun around. “You’ve been cut and stabbed,” she gestured at you. “Shot at, almost died three times all for some stranger who goes to your gym.” She shrugged, you might have been too good for her, but you also seemed to be crazy.

You only smiled at her words, making her furrow her brow. Maybe you really were her type, you were definitely crazy. “I assure you; this is nothing compared to what I’ve been through,” you said. “And you’re not just some girl from my gym anymore, I think I know you well enough to not want you to get murdered.”

Sam shook her head. You were military, special forces at that, you had definitely seen some things. With the way you handled yourself, first with the knife, then the gun, and then even in the apartment you used your surroundings to your advantage, nearly choking Ghostface out with a curtain. You could more than handle yourself, Sam could only imagine what you would do with the right equipment and an actual plan instead of getting caught off guard. But this wasn’t some war zone, you were at home, you shouldn’t be fighting for your life like this.

“You don’t know me,” Sam mumbled. “Not really, but if you insist on sticking around you should probably know what you’re getting into.” Sam walked across the stage and took a seat, letting her legs hang off the edge. You slightly followed after her, taking a seat right next to her but leaving enough space so the two of you weren’t touching.

Sam stared across the theater, Ethan was walking around, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around, Bailey stared at a few of the displays, furrowing his brow at the sight of some things. She looked to the side to see Gale staring longingly at one of the displays, Sam could only assume it had something to do with Dewey. Then there was Mindy, crouched down as she tried to comfort Anika off to the far end, with Chad standing a couple feet away, his arms crossed as his own eyes scanned over the group.

Sam clenched her hands into fists. She had heard a bunch of crap about her life and her family ever since that world learned the truth. She had known the truth since she was a teenager, she had spoken the words more than once. For some reason just opening her mouth to tell you seemed impossible. You could go online right now and find several articles talking about what she was about to tell you, saying the words out loud shouldn’t be a big deal.

“Whatever you say,” you said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. “I promise you; it won’t change anything.”

Sam glanced at you and saw nothing but patience and understanding in your eyes. No one could really say nothing would change until they knew whatever it was, but you truly believed what you were saying. Sam knew she shouldn’t doubt you, you knew the rumors, you knew the basics, and you still stuck around. Everyone who learned the truth though ran and when they didn’t run it was usually because they had an ulterior motive, or they betrayed her.

“When I was younger, I learned my father wasn’t who I thought he was,” Sam let out a shaky breath as she got started. “My real father is Billy Loomis.” She could hear you suck in a breath at the name. “He’s the one who inspired all this,” she gestured around the room. “A year ago, my sister was attacked, by her best friend.” Sam shook her head, there were times she still couldn’t believe last year happened. Amber had never liked her growing up, but she always just figured Amber was an angry kid, she never imagined the girl would be a serial killer.

“Turns out it was all a ploy to lure me back home,” Sam let out humorless chuckle. “My now ex,” she wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t believe she had fallen for Richie, he had been so sweet and charming, that should have been the first indicator that something was wrong with him. “Set it up. He manipulated me, pretended to love me, then he tried to kill me,” she shook her head. “Oh, and he was apparently cheating on me the whole time with Amber.”

“Your ex, that was-”

“Richie,” Sam cut you off. “He tracked me down, became my co-worker, then friend, and then…”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“And it was all to make a stupid movie,” she scoffed. “He’s dead. I made sure of that. So, is Amber.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam looked at you with a furrowed brow, after everything she just said she wasn’t expecting another, I’m sorry’. “He might have been an asshole and a psychopath.” Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at your bluntness. “But whatever you felt for him was real, that doesn’t just automatically end because of what he did. It’s okay to be hurt or even feel bad about it.”

Sam nodded, no one had ever told her that before, well her therapist did but she dismissed it at the time. “But I don’t feel bad,” Sam whispered. “I don’t feel bad one bit,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle. “It felt good to kill him after what he did to me.”

Sam rested her head in her hand as she looked at you. You were looking down at the ground with your eyebrow scrunched up in concentration. “Someone started rumors about me online,” Sam said, making you look up, your brow still scrunched together. “Saying I set the whole thing up last year, that I killed my boyfriend, and he was actually the hero.” Sam shook her head, despite Sidney being there, despite all the police statements, the world seemed to believe some random reddit user over the facts.

“The world sees me as just another killer,” Sam shrugged. “Just like my father.” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “Now you know what a mess my life is,” she scoffed. “Why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with me.”

She thought back to the kiss the two of you shared just the other day. She had stopped it; she said she couldn’t. She told herself it was because she couldn’t fully trust you, she didn’t want to risk getting involved with someone else. The truth was she didn’t want to bring someone into her life, it was such a mess, she didn’t want someone else having to deal with the looks and the comments. You certainly didn’t deserve to be with someone like that, you were too good for all that, you deserved to have someone normal, someone who wouldn’t potentially get you stabbed every other day.

You had been silent most of the time and when Sam looked at you, she saw you nodding along. “Your life is a mess,” you finally said. Sam couldn’t help but smile, you were still as blunt as ever, she found she kind of liked that about you.

“About a year ago I was shot,” you said, your voice becoming distant as if you were going back to the memory. Sam furrowed her brow, she had seen the scars all over your body, she knew you had been shot before, she never imagined one of those injuries was so recent though. “Centimeters from my heart.” You kept touching a spot over your heart, Sam could only assume it was where you were shot. “It’s why I’m in town.”

“But you seem fine,” Sam said. Kirby said it was odd you were in town for longer than usual, that you were stationed in North Carolina. Kirby also said you were still active duty, if you had been injured enough to be discharged then that would be one thing but if you were healed and still active duty it didn’t make sense for you to be home for so long.

“Physically I am,” you rasped out. You were looking across the theater, but it was clear your mind was somewhere else. “But up here,” you tapped your head. “Haven’t been cleared,” you clenched your jaw.

“You seem pretty sane to me,” Sam offered. You were the most stable person she had met, which maybe she wasn’t the best judge in that department knowing her track record.

You huffed out a laugh at that. “Well, not according to my therapist. She won’t clear me until I talk about what happened.” Sam thought back to when you had told her you had a therapy appointment, you had said it was mandatory, that meant you were ordered to see your therapist, it wasn’t something you willingly went to like she did.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” If you had been seeing your therapist this long and it still didn’t seem like you were any closer to getting clear that meant you probably hadn’t talked about whatever it was yet. Sam might have been comfortable seeing a therapist and wanted to talk about her issues, but she knew that wasn’t the case for everyone, her sister in particular refused to see a therapist or talk about what happened in any meaningful way.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s been long enough.” Sam remained silent as she nodded, she would give you as much time as you needed. “We had been deployed for a few months, it was supposed to just be a peacekeeping mission,” you shook your head. “Had done plenty of them before, meant to help build relations, and make connections. But then…”

You blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, but you never let them fall. “A local militia attacked, we were caught off guard, we’re meant to always be prepared but it had been months without incident,” you continued. You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice as unwavering as possible. “My whole team was killed, my brothers,” you buried your head in your hands.

Sam sucked in a breath; out of everything she was expecting you to say it certainly wasn’t that. She couldn’t imagine the guilt you must be living with being the only survivor of something like that. The only reason she was as okay as she was was because of her sister and Chad and Mindy, without them she couldn’t imagine what she’d be like. They might not have liked to talk about what happened, but they relied on each other, they leaned on each other when one was struggling, and they celebrated together when something good happened.

“I was meant to die that day,” you whispered. “I should have,” you shook your head. You pressed your palm against your eyes before finally lifting your head again. “Somehow the bullet missed my heart, and the rescue team got to me just before I bled out.”

Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times. She wasn’t even sure where to begin with something like this, she was pretty sure there was nothing she could say to comfort you.

“See?” you said, giving her a tired smile. “I got just as much baggage as you.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “But I promise you, I’m much more screwed up, you don’t want any of this,” you gestured at yourself. “Coming into your life. Trust me,” you whispered. “It’s you who’s better off not getting involved with me.”

Sam opened and closed her hand. She wanted nothing more than to reach for you, to try and comfort you. She didn’t believe you; she was definitely not better off without you. You didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you, you weren’t to blame for your team dying. Ever since Sam had met you, all you had done was prove how good you were, you protected her, you joined the group to help protect everyone when you didn’t even know them. You told her your story as if you were warning her to stay away but it only proved to her that you truly were one of the good ones.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

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@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler @marsyay78

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xxi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Richie's gone. Sam and Tara rush to the police station, and R gets a visit from someone she hoped to never see again.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Mention of sex, violence.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: it's here! GF final reveal. as mentioned previously, I'm going to try keep the blog spoiler free for the next 48 hours, so won't be posting spoilery asks, but please still feel free to send them through! I'll post them a little later :))))) hope you all enjoy, and I hope your theory was correct!

Nobody says anything for a good twenty seconds.

The Sheriff’s face is stony. Serious. 

You feel as if your heart has just dropped down into your stomach. 

Tara’s hand grips tight on your hip. 

Sam blinks, mouth open like a fish out of water. 

And then it’s her who breaks the silence. 

“He’s gone?” 

She blinks once more. Her words turn into a splutter. 

“But he’s dead.” 

The Sheriff swallows. You almost feel bad for her, the way she wrings her hat in her hands like she’s standing in front of a courthouse of jurors. 

“He was admitted to the morgue,” She explains, voice soft, “There was a fifteen minute window where the Coroner was off shift. We think it happened then.” 

“You think what happened?” You ask, heartbeat hammering loudly in your ears, “You think he got up and walked out?” 

“No,” Says the Sheriff, a little impatient, “He was dead. He’s definitely dead-” 

“And you lost him?” Tara asks, her voice rising, “You lost a dead guy?”

The Sheriff looks at Sam. 

“Perhaps we should do this somewhere more private?” 

“Absolutely not,” Sneers Tara, “You don’t exactly have a track record of asking the right questions, Sheriff.” 

Except she does. And you know it. You touch Tara’s arm, try to quiet her. 

Let’s not piss off the person who can haul you right back to jail, the look in your eyes says. 

But Sam crosses her arms. 

“Tara stays. She’s right, Sheriff. First you try to pin six murders on her, then you lose the actual culprit. The dead culprit.”  

The Sheriff purses her lips. 

“I’m not here to argue,” She says, directing a pointed look at your girlfriend, “But I am here to find out what happened. Whoever Richie was working with likely took his body. Why? I don’t know. But I need answers. And fast.” 

Sam furrows her brow. 

“I don’t know who he was working with,” She says, “I didn’t even know what he was doing in his spare time. Hell, I had no idea who he truly was.”

She sounds a little agonized. Like it’s her fault her boyfriend almost had her sister killed. 

“But you knew him.” Says the Sheriff, “You knew his patterns, his friends, his routine. If we can pin down some names, we might be able to find the culprit.” 

She stands a little taller. 

“And I’d like you to come down to the station and help me figure it out. Please.”  

Sam looks at Tara, a little torn.

“I need to be here with my sister.” She says. 

“Your sister will be fine,” Says the Sheriff, “I can arrange for a squad car. Two, if you need it. She’ll be safe, Sam. They won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Fuck that,” Says Tara, “We’re coming. Down to the station. Sam, I’m not letting you talk to them alone.”

There’s fire in her voice. Fire that usually only sparks when it comes to you. You blink, a little surprised. Sam seems to be surprised by it too, going off the look on her face. 

“That really isn’t necessary.” Cuts in the Sheriff, hurriedly, “Tara, it’s really better if I talk to Sam alone-”

“You’re not talking to Sam without me,” Growls Tara. 

The Sheriff blinks, her shoulders drawn tight like she’s gearing for a fight. And then she slumps them. 

“Alright,” She says, voice even, “What matters is finding Richie and his partner. Tara can be with you.” 

Sam swallows. She nods, only slightly. 

“I’ll get my jacket.” 

-

You’re halfway into climbing into the Sheriff’s squad car when a familiar Ford Focus pulls into the driveway. 

It’s your Mom’s car. You spot her behind the wheel, looking a little forlorn as she hurries to step out. 

And then you see your Dad. Face pinched. Annoyed. Like this is the last place he wants to be. 

“One second,” You tell the Sheriff, and before she can protest, you’re climbing out of the backseat and stepping out onto the drive. 

“YN,” Says your Mom, a little out of breath as she approaches. 

Your Dad hovers by the car, scowl on his face as he surveys Tara in the backseat of the squad car. Your Mom’s eyes widen. 

“She’s not been arrested again?” 

“No, Mom,” You huff, “The Sheriff just needs Sam’s help on something, that’s all.” 

“Oh,” Says your Mom. Then her voice softens, “Darling, please. Come home with us. We all need to talk.” 

“I don’t think so, Mom.” You begin, “Not when Dad’s acting- crazy, like this.” 

You look over at him. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Tara. Glaring, eyes frosted over. Like he hates her more than anyone else in the world. 

“Dad has agreed to listen,” Your Mom begs, “Please, sweetheart. He knows he overreacted about the- sex,” Her voice drops, like she’s just said something scandalous, “But the other things - the arrest. The manslaughter?”

“Self-defense,” You say immediately. 

Your Mom swallows. 

“The self-defense. We need to talk about it. You’re still our daughter. Our only daughter. And we’re worried about you.” 

You shoot a look over to the squad car. 

The Sheriff is watching, her eyes pinched. Sam’s watching your Dad, but Tara is looking at you. 

“Babe?” She says from the car, voice soft, “What is it?” 

It isn’t the worst idea in the world. They’re still your parents, after all. You don’t want this - your Dad angry at you. Angry at Tara. You don’t want to ruin your relationship with them if it can be salvaged. 

Your Mom blinks, desperation in her eyes. You soften, pursing your lips. 

“I’m going to go with my parents,” You tell Tara, “My Mom is right. We should talk.” 

Tara sits up. She pries off her seatbelt immediately. 

“I’ll come.” Tara says, climbing out of the car. 

“No.” Your Dad growls from the car. You ignore him. Rub your hands over Tara’s forearms. 

“Babe, it’s fine. You need to go with Sam,” You remind her. You lower your voice, “You need to be in there, make sure she’s okay. Like you said." 

Tara looks at you, conflicted.

“But, babe-” 

“I’ll be fine,” You assure, “I’ll be with my parents. You and Sam can come and pick me up from the house when you’re done.”

“But Ghostface-”

“Isn’t going to attack me in broad daylight,” You say, “Besides. My Dad’s arsenal is almost as big as Sam’s. Remember?” 

Tara looks at your Dad, a little doubtful. 

“She’ll be fine, Tara, I’ll send in a squad car.” Says The Sheriff, looking over the rim of her sunglasses at you, “But if you want to go, I don’t mind talking to Sam alone-” 

Her tone of voice suggests she very much wants Tara to stay with you. Tara picks it up the same moment you do. Her eyes narrow. Sam's an easy target - Richie's girlfriend, perhaps she could even be sold as his partner in crime.

“You’re not talking to Sam without me,” She says, voice a growl. She shimmies out of the backseat and presses a kiss to your lips, “Keep your phone on,” She says, “Text me every five minutes, okay?” 

You nod. 

“Okay, babe.” You assure, offering her a small smile. 

She kisses you once more. 

“And be careful.” 

-

The drive back to your parents house is in silence. 

You sit in the back seat, twiddling your thumbs. Your Mom drives, your Dad stewing in silence. 

When you arrive at the house, it isn’t much better. 

“I’ll make tea,” Says your Mom, hurrying off to the kitchen as you and your Dad settle down on the sofa. His lip twitches, like he has something he wants to say, but you get in first. 

“You owe Tara an apology,” You say, eyes narrowed, “She has a bruise on her arm the size of Iowa-” 

“She’s lucky that’s all she got,” Says your Dad. 

You stare at him for a moment. Then stand. 

“I’m not talking to you if you’re going to be like this,” You say, voice hot. 

Your Dad hesitates. Then puts his arm out to draw you back down. 

“I’m sorry,” He says, and although it’s through gritted teeth, he does sound like he means it, “I shouldn’t have grabbed her. I’ll apologize to her.” 

You blink. 

“Thank you.” 

Your Mom reemerges, cups of hot tea in hand. 

“Darling,” She says, “Please. Sit down.” 

You settle back into your seat, phone buzzing in your hand. It’s Tara. 

In Sheriff’s office with Sam, waiting for her to come back, it reads. 

Then. It buzzes again. 

You ok baby? 

Fine, you message back, Dad said he’s sorry for grabbing u. 

I’ll believe it when I hear it, Tara sends back. 

Your Mom clears her throat. 

“YN,” She says, “Can you put the phone down please? We need to talk.” 

And talk you do. 

Your Dad stays quiet while your Mom outlines her concerns. The plan, the manslaughter. Tara’s arrest. Her concerns are valid. 

Yes, Tara had been arrested for murder. Murders that she had committed. 

Yes, you’d set up a foolhardy plan with Tara’s friends to capture Ghostface. 

And yes, you’d gone into that school knowing you were about to take someone’s life. And done exactly that. 

You watch as your Mother tries to understand. And know there’s nothing you can say to quell her fears. 

“I think we need to get you into therapy.” Says your Mom, chewing her lip, “We should have done it earlier. I’m sorry we didn’t do it earlier.” 

You blink. 

“I don’t want to talk to a shrink,” You argue. 

You don’t want to talk to anyone about this. Talking led to answers, answers that you very much need to keep buried. For your sake, just as much as Tara’s. 

“Please, honey,” Begs your Mom, “You haven’t been coping, that much is obvious.”

“I’m fine,” You say, leaning forward, “As fine as I can be. I know you’re upset about the plan, but Mom- it was the only way. I mean, look what he was doing to us. Dad carries around a shotgun like it’s his wallet, Tara was going out of her mind, and poor Sam is one more attack away from a nervous breakdown-” 

“Exactly why you should talk to someone,” Says your Dad, quietly, “This isn’t normal, YN. Normal eighteen year olds are worried about which colleges they’re going to get into. Not about if they’re going to be attacked in their homes in the middle of the night.” 

He pauses. 

“And it wouldn’t hurt Tara to go, either.” 

Annoyance flares up in your chest. 

“Can you stop going after Tara?” You say, suddenly on edge, “She’s done nothing to you, Dad. All she’s done is protect me, and you’re acting like she’s been abusing me or something-” 

“There’s something not right about her,” Your Dad says. His brows furrow, like there’s something he just can’t quite work out, “YN, she treats you like you belong to her.” 

“I do belong to her,” You say immediately, and then regret it almost instantly. Your Dad’s face contorts in anger. Hurriedly, you walk it back, “I mean, she belongs to me too. I’m her girlfriend. And she’s mine.” 

“Honey.” Your Mom is looking at your Dad, a serious look in her eye. Like she’s trying to warn him off saying the wrong thing. 

You watch his fists ball. 

“Nobody belongs to anyone,” Your Dad says, “You’re not a piece of property. See, this is exactly what I mean. Any shrink worth his weight will tell you the same.” 

“I’m not talking to a shrink,” You say, voice raising, “You can’t make me.” 

Your Dad stands. His voice is like thunder. 

“You’re my child and you’ll do what I say,” He says, familiar vein popping out of his forehead.  

You sink back into your seat, crossing your arms, “I thought I didn’t belong to anyone?” You say, voice flat. 

Your Dad takes a deep breath. The way he usually does before he’s about to launch into a tirade. 

His hand raises, and he points a finger at you. 

And then his face freezes. 

It’s unmistakable. A loud shattering, like a glass has been dropped. Your Mom’s face falls. You blink, head turning to see where it had come from. 

“What was that?” Your Dad says, turning from you, suddenly on guard. 

It had sounded from the kitchen. Butterflies soar within your stomach, but not the good kind. The kind that feel like you’re being eaten from the inside out. 

The back of your neck prickles. And then your heart almost leaps out of your chest as you feel your phone buzzing in your hands. 

It’s Tara. Her pretty smile flashes across the screen. You gulp, silencing your phone with a click of your button. 

“The gun,” Hisses your Mom, “Get the gun.” 

Your Dad fumbles around behind the sofa. He pulls out his shotgun, posies it against his chest. 

“Who’s there?” He calls out, but his voice shakes, “I’m armed. I have a weapon.”

Silence. 

Your Mom grabs you by the arm, pulls you back against the wall. 

“Stay here,” Your Dad says, cocking the shotgun. 

“Dad, don’t-” You hiss, as you grab your phone. It’s buzzing again, Tara’s name flashing across the screen, “I’m going to call the police.” 

But he doesn’t listen. 

He draws closer to the kitchen, step by step. Your Mom’s eyes are wide, fearful, as she clings onto your arm for dear life. 

You press your phone to your ear, answer Tara’s call. 

“Babe-” She says, voice urgent, “Stay where you are, I know who Ghostface is.” 

But you barely hear her. Your heartbeat is thundering in your ears, fire flooding through your veins. 

“He’s in the house,” You say, breath caught in the back of your throat, “Tara, he’s here-” 

The crunch of your Dad’s boots against the kitchen tile. You watch as he disappears out of sight. Tears spill wet down your cheeks. Your Mom’s grip on your hand is so hard you feel as if she might pull it clean off. 

“Baby, I’m coming,” Tara says. She’s out of breath, like she’s running, “Sam- drive.”

“Call the police, Tara, please,” You whisper, voice a beg, “Call the police right now.” 

“Stay on the line, babe,” Tara says. You hear the click of the car door, and Sam’s voice. Urgent. Desperate, “We’re coming right now. We figured it out - Ghostface is-” 

But you don’t hear what she says. 

Your Dad disappears into the kitchen for less than a second. Another loud crash sounds, then your Dad cries out. 

The shotgun blasts. 

Your Mom screams. 

Your ears ring as you drop your phone to the floor, the screen smashing instantly. 

“Dad?” You call out, hands shaking as you move your Mom behind you, “Dad, say something. Are you okay?” 

But he doesn’t say a thing. 

Blood pounds through your body. Your mother starts to cry. Adrenaline floods through you. 

And suddenly you know exactly what you need to do. 

“Run.” You tell your Mom. 

Your legs feel like jelly as you sprint through the living room, your Mom close behind. You make it to the foyer, looking behind you wildly in an attempt to see if anyone’s behind you. You press your hand against the handle and attempt to draw it open. 

But it stays firm, locked. 

“It’s the alarm system,” Says your Mother, face thick with tears, “The house is on lockdown, Daddy set it up to go through our phones.” 

“So get your phone out.” You hiss. 

She fumbles around in her pockets and draws out her phone. You watch the hallway. It’s quiet. Eerie. No sign of your Dad, and no sign of anyone else. You eye the living room window, thinking. 

“It won’t unlock,” Your mother says, voice frantic. 

You seize the phone from her hands, fiddle around in the app. UNLOCK is near the center, a bright green button. You press it once. Then twice, but nothing happens. 

As if it’s been overridden. 

“Window,” You mumble, “Mom, get to the window. I’ll break it.” 

It happens in a flash. 

One moment you’re dropping her phone to the floor, in an effort to grab her hand and run. 

And the next, you see him. 

Black cloak. Mask pulled over his face. 

Your Dad’s shotgun in his hands. Blood coated over his gloves, gleaming in the daylight. 

“Run!” You scream out. 

Your Mother sprints. Ghostface raises the weapon, lets out a single shot that rings out heavy into the air. It misses, flies off into the wall behind you. 

“Don’t move.” Says Ghostface, voice contorted, “Move and you die.” 

But you don’t listen. The gun isn’t reloaded - you don’t know much about weapons, but you’ve seen your Dad shoot it before. You tear off, ignoring his angry cry out as you follow your Mom into the living room. 

Your Mom grabs a nearby lamp, flings it wildly at the window. It shatters, almost as loudly as the shotgun. Pieces of broken glass litter the carpet, but it's the least of your worries. 

You leap over the couch, take your Mother’s hand and lead her to the window. 

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him again. 

He’s loading pellets into the shotgun, and then, with a quiet click, he raises it once more. 

But he doesn’t point it at you. 

“Mom!” You scream. 

Another blast sounds out. You grip either side of your head, ears ringing painfully at the sound. Your mother screams, and then falls to the floor. 

Blood spills thick and fast onto the carpet. 

You drop down, watch in horror as you catch sight of the wound. It’s gory, bloody, half of her leg blasted clean off. She wails, eyes wide in agony, clutching at her leg as if it will fall off if she lets go. 

“Mom.” You sob. You grip her shoulders, in a feeble attempt to drag her to the window. 

You should run. You should leave her and run. 

But you can’t. 

She’s your Mother. 

And it’s just the distraction Ghostface needs. 

Your Mom looks up at you, mouth open in horror as sees him, looming behind you.  

“YN!” She cries out. 

But you don’t turn in time. 

You feel the hard press as the back of the shotgun slams against your head. 

And then everything turns black. 

-

You feel like you’re floating. 

Over the earth, mind dizzy, like you’ve been launched into space without an oxygen mask. 

There are stars behind your eyes. The back of your head aches, unpleasantly. You can feel something wet against the back of your neck, trickling down underneath your shirt. You groan, move your hand to wipe it away. 

And then you realize your hands are bound behind your back. 

Panic surges through you as you remember your last moments of consciousness. 

Your Dad, walking into the kitchen with a shotgun. The bang of the bullet. 

Your Mom, screaming, writhing in pain on the living room floor, shotgun pellet in her leg. 

Ghostface. 

You open your eyes, chest heaving. 

Everything’s fuzzy, blurred. It hurts to look. The room is dark, save for a single ceiling lamp, flickering as if it’s down to its last few minutes of light. You squint, trying to make out your surroundings. 

You’re in a basement, maybe. It’s dirty, dusty. Unused. Somewhere completely unfamiliar. 

A wave of nausea floods through you. 

Your head pounds. The wetness seeping down onto the back of your neck is blood, you realize all at once. 

Your phone is broken, gone. 

And Ghostface stands in front of you, shimmering dagger in his hands. 

You tug at your restraints, hysteria surging through you. 

Ghostface has taken you somewhere. To his house, maybe. To somewhere the police, and Tara won’t be able to find you. There’s no sign of your mother, or your father. 

It’s quiet. 

The only sounds are the desperate fidgeting of your hands and the heavy noise of his breathing. 

But it’s hopeless. 

Your hands are bound too tight. You have no weapon, and you feel light. Dizzy. Like even if you managed to stand you’d pass out instantly. 

It’s the end, you realize all at once. 

He has you. And this is how you’re going to die. 

You swallow, squint a little harder, ignoring the waves of sickness that flood through you. 

And suddenly you only want to know one thing. 

“Who are you?” You mumble, “Please. Tell me what you want.”  

“Who am I?” Ghostface says. He tilts his head, and you can hear the sneer in his voice. He drops his dagger, then curls his fingers around the edge of the mask. 

It pulls off in one clean swipe. 

Gone is the mystery. The unfamiliarity. 

Your heart drops. 

You’ve seen this face before. Not once or twice. 

You’ve seen this face so many times in the last twenty-four hours. You remember never wanting to see it again. 

But she’s here. 

She has you here. 

Blood streaming down your neck, hands bound so tight your fingertips are starting to lose feeling. 

She stands a little taller, drops her robes and tosses the mask to the floor. 

Blonde hair, wide blue eyes. 

The spitting image of him. 

Sheriff’s badge pressed to her chest. 

And suddenly it all falls into place. 

She leans in, until she’s so close you can see the untamed lunacy in her eyes. She looks wild, deranged as she tilts the blade against your cheek. 

There’s nothing in her eyes but pure, unadulterated hatred. 

And then her lips curls as she spits out:  “I’m the mother of the boy you murdered.”

[tilvcei]

► 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓

⭢ In which: you and your boyfriend, including your friend get attacked at the house. but you get brutally injured. and one ghostface in particular seems to regret hurting you but— for some reason is mainly after your boyfriend.

☆ | warning(s): blood , stabbing , gore[?]

☆ | note: I really didn’t know how I was going to do this but I made sure to add some extra details to the whole setting and stuff. also, your boyfriend name is Mandy, go with it please :D [i tried lol] also, enjoy!

☆ | gender: they/them (reader)

☆ | REMINDER: Mandy is NOT apart of the scream franchise, he’s just an add in and an oc of mines!! this is all fiction which is not real, don’t take this seriously.

It was just a normal night at sam’s house. it made you a bit more safer, having Mandy — your boyfriend with you, add that as a extra point cause he was protective of you. Ethan was here too, probably as a tag along or a friend, you didn’t know.

But, for some reason— he was extremely nice to you. well, you don’t see it as weird it’s just..odd. you’ve known him for a minute but other than that there was nothing between the two of you.

Mandy has been with you since day one. even after what happened in woodsboro, everyone getting killed. the Amber and Richie situation, and all that crazy stuff.

Anika turned it to the news station, you just found out that Jason carvey had died and someone else, was it all happening again? this is the main reason you had ran away from woodsboro. to get away from this bullshit.

Mandy wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. if you had seen Ethan’s intense stare at the both of you, then you’d feel a shiver run down your spine.

Oh, how much he hated how that wasn’t you positioned in-between his legs sitting there. it wasn’t fair. why couldn’t that be him? why? it wasn’t fair.

"So, it’s happening all over again?" you questioned, a tremble in your voice, showing how truly scared you were. Mandy placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"No it’s not. we’re gonna be fine. I swear." Mandy whispered to you, you wrapped your arms around his arm and squeezed it tightly.

Ethan glanced over at Mandy while taking a swig of his beer, then he looked away with a scoff.

Mandy turned to him, "somethin’ wrong landry?" he questioned, he’s been suspicious of Ethan since— forever. Him and Chad being the only two males that were friends and then Ethan decided to come in the picture? kind of odd.

"Oh? n-no! uh, nothings wrong." Ethan said, blushing a bit when he noticed you staring at him with a small smile, "leave him alone Mandy, he’s just watching tv." you said with a little giggle.

Ethan felt a smile form on his lips from your giggle, god he loved hearing your voice so much. which is why he was annoyed Mandy got to hear it all the damn time.

"I wasn’t trying to be an asshole, sorry man." Mandy apologized to Ethan, Ethan nodded, "Nah it’s cool, you did nothing wrong." he replied.

Then something clicked, "wait a sec, aren’t you supposed to be at econ?" asked Mandy.

Well shit. there’s a little mess up right there.

"Ah, shit. right! thanks man." Ethan said and grabbed his jacket and backpack, hurrying out the door.

You watched as he left, a frown appearing on your lips. you just hoped he was okay, that’s all. nothing more to it.

———

After a few hours of watching the news, a scratch was heard from the front door, making you stop in your tracks. where the hell was that coming from?

"Hey, guys?" you called out, everyone who was in the kitchen looked at you in confusion, Mandy was the first to stand up and walk over to you, then next was tara.

Tara put a hand on your shoulder, "what, what’s wrong?" she questioned, you didn’t answer and felt your hands shaking in fear. why did you feel so scared?

Something didn’t feel right.

Chad, Sam, Mindy, and Anika appeared too. Mandy turned to you with a look of concern, if anything his freckles were distracting you.

You gripped his hand tightly and pointed at the door, everyone followed your gaze and their eyes landed on the door.

"I hear something. I don’t know what it sounded like but I heard screaming too." you explained, but then you jumped when more banging sounds came from the door and screaming.

Was a massacre happening in there or what? Mandy pushed you behind him while you were still holding his hand tightly.

"Run." Mindy said. and right after she said that, the door busted open and you saw Quinn’s dead body fall ontop of Anika who screamed.

There stood ghostface in the door way, making his way towards all of you. your feet moved faster than you thought it would as you started running.

"This shit again?" Mandy muttered under his breath, annoyed that nobody could get a break from this thing.

He himself started running, ghostface turned his attention to mindy and Anika, mindy tried hitting him but he/she dodged it and stabbed her in the arm, you heard her scream.

Mindy fell to the ground and her back hit the couch, "Get the fuck away from her!" yelled Anika as she wrapped her arms around his leg and hitting it.

Ghostface looked down at her, even though you couldn’t see it you knew somehow he/she was glaring.

Ghostface grabbed Anika by the neck, cutting off her oxygen as he/she did so, his/her grip getting tighter around her neck. you let out a horrified gasp and watched as ghostface brought his knife out.

he/she aimed it right at her stomach, plunging the knife in and twisting her guts while he/she did so. you felt like you were about to throw up, her screams echoed in the room.

Do something. stop standing there.

you searched the kitchen for a knife, when you grabbed it- you had so much fear that you even accidentally cut yourself.

You ran back inside the livingroom, you slipped on one foot but you caught yourself, "leave her the hell alone!" you yelled, stabbing ghostface in his/her shoulder.

he/she flinched before turning to you, his/her actions were slow, like he/she was eyeing you up and down to see if you were a threat. and you could’ve swore..you heard a deep chuckle- was he/she, laughing?

He/she dropped Anika to the ground, the girl groaned in pain and you could hear her sobbing.

Ghostface was slowly starting to make his/her way towards you now. but no, you weren’t gonna let your guard down that easily. not at all.

Mandy appeared with Sam, they were watching ghostface closely, if he or she were to attack they’d be prepared.

"On three..we attack, okay?" Sam whispered to Mandy, he nodded, "got it." he replied.

Ghostface grabbed you by the arm and threw the knife to the ground, "to hell with it, now!" Sam yelled, Mandy and Sam came from behind ghostface and attacked him.

Sam put ghostface in a headlock while Mandy got the knife out of his hands— but somehow this ghostface seemed to be stronger..? as well as more aggressive.

"(Y/n), go, run now!" Sam yelled, you hurried and started running. you heard what sounded like a 'No' come from ghostface.

Mandy froze and so did sam, what did he/she just say? how-

This gave ghostface a chance to hit sam with a right hook to the face, knocking her to the ground. Ghostface swiped Mandy underneath his feet causing him to fall.

"Pretty boys die first, huh?" said the ghostface, tilting its head, Mandy didn’t respond and instead punched him/her in the gut, "fuck you, man!" Mandy yelled.

When you heard Mandy yell, you stopped in your tracks, Anika and Mindy where hiding in a room and trying to get the window open, Anika sat on the bed, clutching her bleeding stomach.

No, you couldn’t leave him. he was the only thing keeping you sane.

Running out of the room you grabbed a brick and started running towards ghostface who was sitting on Mandy’s waist, Mandy tried getting out of his grasp.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" you shouted, before anyone could process anything, you hit ghostface in the head, you watched as he/she fell to the ground.

You helped mandy up, sam helping you as well. Mandy was quick to wrap his arms around you in a hug, "you okay, (Y/n)?" he asked, you nodded.

Sam wrapped a protective arm around you and mandy, watching ghostface closely to see if he/she would get back up again.

And he/she did.

The knife was supposed to aim for mandy but instead…

It hit you. right in the stomach. you let out a scream in pain, the ghostface was quick to recoil in surprise.

"Shit, run! Mandy, get the knife!" sam yelled as she sent a kick to ghostface as he/she fell back

You ran into the room Mindy and Anika were in, Mandy holding you in his arms as he was applying pressure to your wound.

"We have to go, sam you first. also your, uh, Jiminy cricket boyfriend is there." Mandy joked, "it is not the time to be joking mandy. But I’ll admit; it was funny." Sam said with a small but quick chuckle.

Sam was the first to go, mindy was holding the dresser against the door so ghostface wouldn’t get in.

you didn’t have much time because the quicker he or she was in here, the quicker he/she’d slaughter you all in this room.

"M-Mandy, you go. I’ll be right behind you, ok?" you said, groaning in pain when the pain from your stomach didn’t stop.

Mandy shook his head, "No, no. you go." he said, you turned to him with a irritated glare.

"Now is not the time to be the hero. just go, please!" you begged, mandy felt tears form in his eyes as they fell down.

You only nodded at him, he placed a quick kiss to your lips before making his way to the window.

he hurried and got to the other side, not even looking down. Sam and her boyfriend helped her inside.

Next was mindy, you didn’t hear her and anika’s conversation. you sat there in the corner clutching your stomach painfully.

"(Y/n), y-you have to go. th-they’ll be in here soon, go." Anika ordered, you made your way over to her before pulling her into a hug, "I’ll be right behind you." she whispered.

once you let go, you made your way towards the window. Anika did was she told you, she said she’d be right behind you.

You moved back a little to let her go first, she gave you a curt nod, even though the ladder was creaking you had to go. and you couldn’t look down either.

You noticed sam, mindy, and Mandy’s eyes widen, "(Y/n), anika, you both have got to hurry right now." Mindy said frantically while she was sobbing.

Your stomach was still hurting, "c’mon (Y/n) I’m right here, okay? don’t look back either." Mandy said, a sob escaping his mouth as tears fell from his eyes.

"Mandy, I’m scared." you said. even though you didn’t want to continue you knew you’d have to.

You weren’t supposed to turn around but you did, and when you did you saw ghostface right there. staring you and Anika down.

"(Y/N), ANIKA, YOU BOTH HAVE TO HURRY." Mindy yelled, you tried crawling but your hands were staring to slip.

And that’s when you felt it, a hand wrapped itself around your ankle in a tight grip, the grip being so tight it caused your ankle to bleed.

"No, let me go! let me go!" you yelled, ghostface started dragging you backwards and towards him/her, whoever the hell it was.

"C’mere pretty thing." The voice was raspy and rough, who the hell was under that mask? you started sobbing.

"Get away from— me!" you yelled, kicking the person in the face. Anika pushed you in front of her and this seemed to have enraged whoever was under that ghostface mask.

"Come on, I got you." Mandy whispered, holding his hand out for you to reach, you desperately tried grasping his hand, but your fingers kept slipping each time.

Ghostface started shaking the ladder and pushing it side by side, anika started screaming, "I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die!" Anika screamed.

Then, as the ladder kept shaking, it tilted, causing you to almost fall. Anika on the other hand…she wasn’t as lucky.

You heard her scream and then a loud bang was heard, she fell to the ground with thud.

Mandy and sam held onto your hand and hauled you up and into the window, you hid your face in Mandy’s chest. his arms wrapping around you as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

He felt eyes bore into the two of you, he slowly turned around to see the ghostface staring at you two. he could feel the anger radiating off of the person.

Who. was. that?

Part two? Idk, hope you enjoyed!

[4ortherecord]

way too far gone

rafe cameron x barry

summary: rafe needs a piece too, and it isn’t fucking funny.

warnings: dom/sub undertones?, rafe is condescending (obviously), fade to black kinda, the beginning of a bj, not proofread

note: I’ve yet to see anything that puts writes barry in a non-dominant way which I can understand but I need to fulfill my delusions so. 18+ ofc

It was just a joke between bros alright? Rafe never actually meant to go through with it, until of course, he was handing Barry two hundred dollar bills and Barry got this sweet almost devious look on his face while he got down onto his knees. 

See, while Barry giggled about the idea of him with a glock, Rafe was staring. In fact, rafe had been staring for awhile, at Barry's little habits and his shiny ass pirate tooth.

For example, although it looked sweat-drenched most of the time,  Barry actually cared quite a bit about his hair. He took at least an hour a day to brush it out and had a variety of at least moderately high costing hair products. It made rafe laugh, thinking about Big Bad Barry robbing people only to go spend said money on hair products of all things.

Rafe noticed other things too, like the slightly droopy look of Barry's eyes when rafe complimented him about his mechanic skills. Or how his lips got especially loose after one too many hits of his blunt, talking about how much he loved soft things, and that one especially soft stuffed bunny he has stashed in his room. 

So, instead of being normal allies/friends rafe decided to make it weird. Rafe had a thing about making Barry giggle so of course, he can't be blamed that he spoke without thinking. "Why is it so unbelievable that I could need a gun?" Rafe snarled, he personally doesn't find the humor in his situation so to see Barry so outwardly making fun of him, oh that set him off.

"Oh no, don't go all Country-Club-Killa on me Richie Rich!" Barry exclaimed with quite a bit of mirth in his tone, as he leaned back in fake horror. "Barry." While the other man was giggling his ass off, Rafe was silently seething. But even then he couldn't help but remind that little voice in the back of his head that, No, it's not normal to be so happy about someone making fun of him.  "I'm sorry rafe, but I'm just curious on what you exactly need a piece for." he held out his hands in a peaceful manner to show that he was done joking around and was looking for a genuine answer from his ally.

"Listen man, are you gonna help me out or not? Jesus, do I need to pay you for it or something?" Rafe exasperated, tiredly running his hand through his hair to get ahold on his nerves.

"Rafe, there are many many things I'll do for cash, but I'm truly curious on why you of all people need a gun. If I get some money and the added bonus of messing with you, then that's unfortunately not a deal I can pass up."

"So what will, you do for money? You've told me before that you've had people give you BJ's in exchange for drugs right? so what would it take for you to be on the giving side." Rafe lowered his voice, somewhat insecure in his questioning.  "Well, why do you wanna know, country-club? You tryna' change your currency?" the brown eyed man questioned confidently, raising his eyebrow for emphasis.

Rafe stared. Taking in his, bright pink lips and big brown eyes, wondering what it would be like to have those lips around his length and those eyes staring up at him while tears crowded the edges of them and eventually flowed over.

Suddenly the nature around Barry's trailer, that so easily fell into the background, was louder than ever before.

"I'm a curious guy, alright? If there's a question to be asked, I'm gonna ask it." Rafe took on a slightly defensive tone and lowered his head into the space between his spread knees. "Right, and this line of questioning has nothing to do with you possibly getting your dick wet?" Barry looked on knowingly, leering at rafe.

With Barry's churlish, almost derisive tone coming in to play, rafe had the urge to snap back him. Show him that rafe was not one to disregard, that this snappy little attitude he showed would not be rewarded any longer.

To tug at brown strands until the recipient was crying and begging for the other man to not stop, to gag him until drool was seeping from his mouth, to keep him there so long that he got sleepy in the eyes and to kiss him sweetly after.

"Why do you care, anyway? What, got some fantasies of your own you feel like sharing, Barry?"

The space between them was quieted as they both thought through their options. One, rafe could laugh it off while being slightly condescending, Barry could go back to his book and ignore rafe until he got the hint and walked away, or they could give in to tension that had been brewing since Barry claimed ownership over rafe.  They chose.  Rafe surged forward, pushing himself into Barry's space on the couch as he grasped the back of the other man's neck to make their lips finally meet together in a swift motion. 

Heated turned soft as they kissed, exploring this new territory in their growing relationship. As the kiss went on, they both easily lost themselves to it, becoming placid. 

Rafe slowly pulled away from the kiss, taking Barry's lip with him just to watch it snap back into place. Eyes low, he pulled out two hundred dollar bills and placed them into Barry's nearest hand. Barry took a little time to react but when he did his slightly dazed expression didn't change

He put the two hundreds in his pocket, looked up momentarily and slid down to the floor, occupying the space between rafe's legs. 

Rafe wished he could say he couldn't believe this was happening right now but, if not now, when? With all their touchiness and barely veiled affection, even their screaming matches held sexual tension. The way Barry got a little too clingy while high around rafe was something on its own but the way rafe yearned for it as well?-

Rafe lost his train of thought as Barry began to unzip and unbutton his pants.

The idea that he'd finally get to see Barry on his knees for him, big brown eyes teary and bright pink lips around him, it was a heaven of it's own.

All at once, Barry pulled down the elastic top of his boxers so they would rest under his balls and his dick would be fully on display.

Barry leaned up and began kissing down rafe's navel, pausing to kiss each side of his hips before making it to his prize.

Rafe's dick was (unsurprisingly) pretty. He had a optimum amount of public hair, clearly groomed but not overly so. He was cut and the tip was a garish shade of red, contrasting with the slight pinkish hue of his skin.

The girth of his cock was thick (the tips of barry's fingers couldn't even touch) but not anything super special in the length department, reaching just about 7 inches. 

Barry took it into his hand and just sat there for a little, trying to get his fill. Eventually rafe began to get impatient, to stave this off he took one hand into Barry's mass of hair and began to undo the bun it had been settled into, he pulled the ponytail holder out and easily slid it around his wrist. 

"Hey, uh, you ever done this before?" Rafe's breathing was shaky and it took all his brain power to speak..

"Once or twice, but I ain't no dick-sucking warrior, if that's what you askin'." 

"No, I was just wondering because, you look kinda', intimidated." Even with his shallow breathing rafe was able to let out a small chuckle at the prospect of barry being afraid of his cock of all things.

"Me, intimidated by, you? You musta' lost your mind rafe. Ain't nothing about you intimidating to me." Barry lazily said, trying to give off a guise of indifference, but it was quickly broken when rafe realized Barry's ears were inflamed and he refused to make eye contact instead focusing on the pretty pretty pink head of rafe's slobbering dick.

"So what, you just sittin' there droolin' at it for fun?" Rafe tilted his head, questioning.

"Drooling? The only thing drooling here is your dick, rafe, cause apparently you can't get enough of seein' me on my knees."  Barry sassed, momentarily tightening his lax grip on rafe's cock.

Rafe hissed, inadvertently yanking on Barry's hair and Barry had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning.

Barry decided it was time he get his mouth on rafe's annoyingly pretty cock before he did something stupid like beg for rafe to pull his hair again.

END

[tenaciousjalapeno]

Testing the Cat Lady, Part 2

2/?

Pairing: LA Buggy the Clown x Reader

Summary: Captain Buggy drags you back to his ship to show you around your new home

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1,600

A/N: Tried to match the energy of the emotionally drained character, so hopefully that shines through

The door that Buggy takes you through leads straight back to his colorful ship, where the crew leisurely sprawls across the main deck. “Listen up, freaks,” he shouts, instantly drawing the attention of his crew. “This little looker and the furball are the newest members of the show. We’re going to show them a warm welcome, got it?” Cabaji and Bear-boy arrive, rolling a barrel of whiskey to their captain’s side. “Why don’t you introduce yourself,” Buggy quietly urges you with a nudge forward. As much as you don’t want to, the emotional blows the man has put you through has wrung any and all fight out of you. At least for today. You nervously stutter out both your and Mango’s names to the crowd. It looks to be about twenty people, give or take. They give a collective welcoming shout in return.

Several pairs of hungry eyes scan your body up and down. Being ogled at is nothing new to you, but something about so many people – pirates, at that – doing it at once sends a shiver down your spine. Luckily, this doesn’t go unnoticed by your new captain. “Touch either of them, and you lose your hands,” he coldly states to the crew. All of their gazes immediately drop. Buggy tells you that he’ll give you a tour after he gets some other work done, then disappears back into the tent.

Everyone seems friendly enough and bombards you with questions throughout the afternoon. The whole situation is a bit overwhelming, but nothing you can’t handle. Mango stays settled in your lap the entire time, which helps ease your tension. Not much, but enough. From listening in on some nearby conversations you learn that Bear-boy is the Mohji that Buggy spoke of earlier. If it weren’t for him, you could very well be sitting here with a cat-sized hole in your heart. A wave of guilt washes over you, and you decide that apologizing to the poor guy is the least you could do to make up for his bandaged arms. “Hey! Mohji, right?” you ask after striding over to him.

He nervously eyes Mango, but smiles warmly at you nonetheless. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Uh, so Captain Buggy said you’re kind of responsible for keeping Mango safe. I wanted to say thanks, and sorry on behalf of this guy.” Mango crawls his way up your shoulder as you speak and stares at Mohji with distrust.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says, brushing the matter off with a wave of his hand. “I would’ve done the same if I was in his boots. I’m actually glad to have him around! Now Richie finally has another cat to keep him company.”

You perk up at his words. “You’ve got a cat too?” No matter how many cats you’ve seen in your days, you’re always excited to meet a new one.

“Yeah, he’s my best buddy! Come on, I’ll show you.” With that, Mohji leads you back to the tent. Pulling back the curtain to a side room, your heart hits the floor. Holy shit! It wasn’t a cat. It was a lion. A big one. He lays comfortably on a blanket and barely acknowledges your entrance. To your shock, Mohji seems completely at ease around Richie and goes as far as rubbing the massive beast’s exposed belly. Even more to your shock, Mango is also unfazed. He leaps down from your shoulders and confidently struts over to the lion that is, no joke, easily a hundred times his size. After a minute of sniffing each other, Mango curls up against Richie for a nap. That cat of yours has always been brave, but sometimes he leaves you truly gob smacked.

You sigh and shake your head at the little orange cat. Once your heart settles, you pelt Mohji with dozens of questions about his, ehh, strange choice of pet. He seems ecstatic to finally have a new person to show Richie off to. Gods know that it isn’t often that they get a new member to the crew. Engrossed in the conversation, you don’t notice that with each question, he inches closer and closer, until a voice shouts behind you.

“Back off, Mohji. Remember what I said about losing your hands?” Buggy enters the tent, surprising the both of you. His face bares a wide smile, but his voice is edging on hostile. The combination is frightening, but at least he seems to be looking out for you. Kind of. Maybe?

“Y-yes captain! I was j-just introducing these two to Richie,” Mohji stutters out fearfully.

Your captain circles the cowering man. “That better be all it was. You,” he says, turning back and setting his watercolor eyes on you, “Grab the furball. I’m going to show you around.” You nod and hoist Mango into your arms. Buggy leads you back toward the ship and yells behind him to Mohji, “Not everyone who likes cats wants to see your dick!” The statement leaves you flustered. Being able to tell if people were flirting with you or not was a gift that you weren’t exactly graced with. In fact, it’s gotten you into a lot of trouble in the past, but it looks like the captain has saved you this time around. You almost consider thanking him, but you’re still too caught up on the whole “capturing you and forcing you to join his crew” thing to show any gratitude.

He takes you to the lower deck of the ship, pointing out the kitchen, laundry, storage rooms, and other main areas before stopping abruptly at a door. You nearly stumble into him, but he catches you by the shoulder and steadies you. The contact makes you blush, but you dismiss it as a weird fear response. After all, he did threaten to kill your cat just this morning. Though you pegged him as an idiot before, the ordeal really drove home that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. “This’ll be your room,” Buggy states, opening the door and motioning for you to step in. It’s small, but surprisingly clean and even has its own bathroom. You survey the room from its center, taking a minute to fully soak it in.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Buggy huffs, snapping you back to reality. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an expectant look in his picturesque eyes. Try as you might not to notice, the position does a great job of framing his biceps. The sight makes your stomach flip. As cruel and intimidating as he is, it’s impossible to deny that he’s, well, nice to look at. Even with the clown nose.

“Oh, no. It’s nice,” you hurriedly say. “I guess I was just expecting a shared quarters or something.”

He looks away and shifts his weight. “Well, there is, but I figured since you’ve got that guy, you might need your own space so he doesn’t bother anyone. That and I don’t trust some of those other shitheads around you.”

With a puzzled look, you try to ask, “What do you-,” before he cuts you off.

“Anyway, we’ll talk about my plans for you in the morning. My room is next door if you need me. Don’t bother me unless it’s important,” he says gruffly before heading to his own room. Rude. That blue-haired clown’s mood swings today are really leaving you in a daze.

Closing the door, you see that two little bowls and a large bag of cat food rest on the floor behind it. Once again, you blush, though you don’t know what to dismiss this one as. You set Mango down and fill his bowl with food, which he eagerly starts crunching on.

Familiarizing yourself with your new home, you take another look over everything. A dresser against the wall reminds you that you’re going to be in need of some new clothes, seeing as everything in your house is probably trashed. Still, you decide to open it up and check out the drawers. To your pleasant surprise, it’s filled with your clothes as well as a few of your other personal belongings. A smile spreads widely across your face and you let out a small fit of giggles. Never in a hundred years did you think you’d be so happy to see your clothes, books, and dinged-up old lute. It clicks that this is probably what he was referring to when he said that he had other work. Maybe he’s not as evil as I thought.

In the room next door, Buggy leans over the counter in his own personal bathroom, washing grease paint from his face. He’s lost in his own thoughts. Uncharacteristically, he actually felt guilty about his show earlier. Countless people had been tortured by his own two hands and malicious methods over the years, but never before did he show an ounce of remorse. In fact, it had become something of a hobby at this point. The screams and tears he’d elicit typically brought him satisfaction, but something about yours stirred a foreign feeling in him. Maybe it was just how small you looked standing there, or maybe it was the desperation in your watery doe eyes. Maybe it was any number of things. Fucked if he knew.

 Through the wall, he can hear your giggles, to which he responds with a low groan. “Damn shidiot,” he mumbles to his reflection.

[eroticwound]

I love your thoughts on The Bear. Particularly the Berzatto siblings. I was wondering if you could talk about Mikey. And possibly his relationship with Richie. Outside of the internet when I talk to peers about the show people are quick to demonize or dislike Mikey. They cite his behavior with Lee and his taking part in ganging up on Carmy with Donna as reasons why. Also, how Richie was so desperate to get away from the beef.

I would love to hear your opinion about how this could be someone’s impression of Mikey. And how you would describe Mikey to someone who maybe isn’t seeing the whole picture? Or just how you would describe Mikey as a person in general.

And do you think his relationship with Richie was very one sided? Do you think it was always Mikey in the lead? I’ve read some fic that truly makes Mikey terrible to Richie.

Hi anon. Thanks for this incredibly thought out ask. Cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoy getting questions like this :)

Michael Berzatto is a complicated guy and he’s a guy we don’t get a lot of screen time with. That’s by design. He’s the character haunting this narrative. Mikey is the Laura Palmer of The Bear (I have that disease where I see everything through the prism of Twin Peaks), and as such we get to know him mostly through people’s grief. Through their imperfect memories. We’re left missing him just as much as any other character. And while I would love a feature length movie showing Mikey’s last days a la Fire Walk with Me, I very much doubt we will get that. So we’re left to figure out this complicated character with scraps.

For these reasons, I do get why people don't understand Mikey. As you mention, they are literally not given anything close to a whole picture. In fact the screen time we have most with him is during Fishes, when he is quite literally at his worst. If people only saw scenes where Carmen was yelling at people in the kitchen or where Richie was being sexist to Syd, I'm sure they'd have a poor opinion of them as well (in fact, being in this fandom after the first season, I can confirm that most of tumblr disliked Richie).

The healthiest we see Michael is in the Ceres flashback in season 1. He’s exactly how everyone describes him: loud, brash, funny. Both Carmy and Richie are just having the best time, completely immersed in the story he's telling. Even Nat’s having a great time, though both brothers stop her from adding raisins, which is Donna’s recipe for the dish they're making (side note, I find it so interesting that Nat is the one trying to follow their mom’s recipe. She's still trying to please Donna, to garner favor, whereas the boys, who Donna relies on in the kitchen and emotionally, feel fine deviating from Donna’s recipe). Even beyond the Ceres flashback, we do get flashes of what makes Mikey great in Fishes: the opening is him checking in on Natalie, he's really sweet and engaging with Carmen in the pantry, and even though Carmy doesn't take Mikey and Richie trying to set him up with Claire well, it's still proof that Mikey cares.

The thing is Mikey is mentally ill, like Donna and like Carmen. He’s dealing with some sort of chemical imbalance (depression or bipolar) on top of the severe parentification he got from Donna. I talk about it at length in my unfinished series delving into the partentification of the Berzatto siblings. As I point out in those posts, Mikey is actually the sibling getting the worst of the parentification, which is a form of abuse where there is a role-reversal between parent and child. Nat can't morph herself easily to accommodate Donna's dysfunction (she un-normalizes it), so she gets Donna's ire instead. Carmen was also parentified, especially when Mikey was out of the house growing up (they have such an age gap), but Mikey was the oldest. He has high EQ and can morph himself to accommodate Donna's dysfunction. It has in fact shaped him into the person he is. Which is someone who is trying to avoid all of the bad: bad outbursts from Donna, bad feelings from his siblings, bad reactions from outsiders to their family dynamic. He's also trying very hard to avoid the bad emotions he's feeling. Michael is looking to avoid all of this through any means necessary, which includes using alcohol and drugs. As I mention in that parentification meta series, using substances is quite literally the only way he's managing his distress.

I want to talk about each point you mention people citing as to why they don't like Michael. But first, I want to preface it by pointing out that Michael has been forced to move back in with Donna. His failed business ventures and poor mental health have forced him back into this scenario that is NOT GOOD FOR HIM. That scene where Cousin Michelle says to Carm that it's not good for him to be in this environment? Well, it's not good for any of the Berzatto siblings. And throughout the episode, you can tell how exhausted Mikey is by it. By having to fulfill his role as Donna's pseudo-partner.

So let's start with Michael and Donna ganging up on Carmen in the kitchen. When Donna and Mikey do this they are functioning as a parental unit. This is the perfect example of Mikey's parentification at work, of Michael acting as Donna's partner. It's what he's been trained to do to maintain the delicate ecosystem of that house. Donna's emotional state is given top priority. Everyone else's emotions fall to the wayside in light of what she's feeling, otherwise you get fallout like her crashing her car into the house. Mikey talks to Nat about this at the start of the episode:

What do you think she's at right now? A 4? A 5? She's not at a 6.

The siblings literally have a rating system for Donna's moods. They're all trying to avoid escalation above all else. Michael in particular. So in that scene with Carm in the kitchen, Mikey is trying to keep things from escalating. This is something Carmen knows too—hell, it's the first thing Carmen asks Mikey to do in Fishes:

Hey Mikey can you come inside and be you for a little bit, I don't know how to deal with these people.

Carmy needs Michael to come fill his role of buffer between guests and their family. Carmy, notably, gets Donna duty—a role I'm sure Mikey filled before Carmen came along. I say this based on Donna calling Carmen "Michael" when he's trying to coax her to the dinner table at the end of the episode. She's implying talking to her like this is what Michael does. When the people you know irl cite this moment, unfortunately this is the rebuttal: this is Mikey's role. Donna needs his emotional support. Otherwise she'd be more abusive towards Nat and Carm. Michael is doing it for the greater good.

As for Lee, that's another great example of soooo much being implied. Lee, along with Cicero, were best friends with their father, and it is heavily implied that Lee and Donna had a fling or two after their dad fucks off (whether Mr. Berzatto is dead or a deadbeat, who’s to say?). When Lee is helping Donna clean shit off the floor, Mikey grabs a beer from the fridge and asks if they are "doing this again." Basically, Lee and Donna have been romantic before. This means Lee would have been around erratically growing up. And it's clear Michael and Lee have a historic antagonism because of this. Lee's first interaction with Michael in the episode has him threatening to "lay [Michael] out." This screams to me that Lee stepped into the man of the house role, and that Mikey and him had altercations that got physically violent. That's why Mikey says at the dinner table, "I can throw forks cuz this is my father's house." That feels very much like something a kid would say to a man who is trying to replace a missing father. And it's especially heated, because it is Michael who has had to consistently step into the man of the house role for Donna and for his siblings! Michael couldn't leave like Lee when Donna and him broke up. Living with Donna and keeping his siblings ok is daily life for Michael.

So all through the episode, Lee is poking a bear (Mikey Bear to be exact). Lee calls him out about telling the same old stories, embarrasses him in front of everyone by revealing he's borrowed money from Cicero and had to move back in with Donna. Lee has been explicitly disrespecting him. And maybe if Mikey was in a better place, he would have been able to roll with it, but as I mentioned before, Mikey is not in a good place. He's depressed, he's been drinking and taking something (pain pills?) to manage the stress he's under. Him throwing forks is not a lucid reaction. Frankly, if people don't also blame Lee for that outburst, then they really weren't paying attention during the episode.

Finally, onto the Richie portion of your question. Richie’s family is something I would *love* to get more canon info about. All we know is that he's not Italian but Polish, his home life wasn’t great, his dad sucked, and Donna allowed him over so often that he’s practically her fourth child.

Richie and Michael grew up together. They're best friends, practically family. It's why Richie is "cousin." Michael's relationship with Richie is his closest relationship. Everyone says Mikey was their best friend, but Mikey's actual best friend was Richie. Period. And there's some complicated jealousy between Carmen and Richie because of what each is to Michael: Carmy's jealous of Richie and Michael's genuine closeness, and Richie is jealous that Mikey has special regard for Carmen as his actual brother. You see this jealousy in the very first episode of the show during that first walk-in fight: Richie was there for Mikey, buried Mikey and took care of Donna, and yet Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen. Left the money in cans for Carmen, so he could fulfill their dream restaurant together. There's honestly some great fic out there that goes into this jealousy. I'll come back to link it if I can find it.

Bottom line is that Richie was the closest person in Mikey's life. They have the same humor, the same life experiences. They had each other's backs. So when you ask if Richie and Michael's relationship was one-sided, I'm going to answer with a resounding no. They're literally besties. It's just by Fishes, Michael has deteriorated. His depression and drug abuse and failures have shrunk his life. Just compare where they're both at: Michael's moved back in with his mom, is single, and is telling the same old stories from their youth. Richie, on the other hand, might have anxiety (the xanax from Dogs <3), but he's in a stable and loving relationship and has a child on the way. That's why Richie asks Cicero for a job—not to get away from Mikey, but to make more money for his expanding family. And yes, he wants to amount to something more than working at a sandwich shop, but hell, so does Mikey. Neither of them want that for the rest of their lives. It's why Michael tried other business ventures. They fail, so he's stuck at The Beef. But it's a weight around his neck bringing him down. He says as much to Carmen when they're in the pantry:

Yeah but the place is no good, Carmy. It's a fucking nightmare. Like trust me I'm doing you a favor.

He even tries to set it on fire for the insurance money! Only Carmen sees the potential.

As for whether it was always Mikey taking the lead, I do think there's some merit to that. Mikey is talked about as more charming than Richie. You see it in Ceres when the edit compares Mikey telling the Bill Murray story to Richie telling the Bill Murray story to his date. Mikey is loud and funny and can "dial a room." Richie can too, but I think Mikey has more finesse. Still, they rely on each other. They back each other up. Michael would hook people with the stories, and Richie would embellish and inject at the right points or reel Mikey in when needed. They supported each other and worked together. I think any fic you might be reading that's demonizing Michael isn't accurate to his character and is actually falling into a pretty common fic trope: if the focus is Character A, then a fic author will cast Character B as the villain in order to serve whatever they're writing, twisting and embellishing the traits of Character B until they’re barely recognizable. Could Mikey be dismissive and hard to contain? Sure, but I don't think that means he didn't love Richie, or was undemonstrative with his affections. Even when Michael was out of it on drugs, they still had a very close relationship—Richie says so. In fact, everything Richie says about Michael supports this. I see zero support in canon for their relationship being one-sided. I'll say it again, they loved each other.

So this is how I would describe Mikey: loud, funny, obnoxious. He could dial a room. He cared deeply for his family, friends, and employees. He suffered parentification and has some sort of chemical imbalance. In fact, because he was charming and loud and funny, people could ignore his deterioration. Even Richie says, "he was Mikey Bear! I thought he'd come out of it," because he was able to come out of it up to that point. But after decades of not treating the problem, the only solution Michael could see was killing himself. He's a complicated character. He's a tragic character. He's the Laura Palmer of The Bear.

[likidpigeon]

live commentary watching the bear **spoilers**

sydney sucks so far. who the fuck wrote her character. so frustrating to watch.

update: tbh sometimes the kitchen lingo takes away from the experience because i have no idea what they're saying. But that's on me, i'm sure anyone with kitchen experience is jizzing their pants hearing all those words pop up in the show like "hey i know that!!"

update: carmy has got some ISSUES bro what the fuck do you mean you sleepwalked and started cooking plastic-wrapped food and almost burnt your apartment down. and WHY was that just said sorta offhand at the end of the episode? idk sometimes i feel like they do so much editing and weird cuts that it makes the story hard to follow. Still, that''s on me and i can appreciate the artistry and work it takes to put something like that together.

update: crying at the s1 finale so bittersweet

update: on s2. sydney is so harsh to her dad, i know its because she's frustrated with constantly trying to prove herself and be thought of as independent by her dad, but jeez louise she can be a little loud with it. Like he's just asking her questions about the restaurant and shes like "OMG dad!!!!! stop grilling me!!!". Also, a note on the acting, Stop fake stuttering for every single sentence. It doesn't make it more believable it just makes it more frustrating to watch.

update: s2e6. WOW. truly incredible imo. the dialogue is so unnaturally-natural (in the whole show, but especially in this episode) to the point where I can't-not love it. It truly encapsulates what it's like to be in a large, dysfunctional family on a day where you are supposed to love them and appreciate them, but can't get one moment to really do so. PLUS this episode was a literal walk of fame. Bob Odenkirk??? Sarah Paulson?? John Mulaney?? JAMIE LEE CURTIS???? SHANE FROM THE WALKING DEAD????(/j). but for real this episode was jawdropping and left so many questions unanswered. I can't wait to see what season 3 has in store for the family's storyline and how they are going to tell it. yay!

update: taylor swift triumph moment i think YES!!!!!!! Honestly really like richie as a character so far. Stubborn and a little too proud but comes around.

update: claire is so sweet why carmy gotta do her like that and why are they setting it up for him to get with syd when he spent the whole first season undermining her and being borderline verbally abusive. like syd girl you can do better and carmy you needa sort some shit out before you go hurting clairebear and yelling at everyone (syd especially). Call the damn fridge guy! all jokes aside i really liked this episode. I think richie popped OFF and the whole thing with pete and the bears' mom was so strange yet so emotional and gutwrenching (especially for such an 'insignificant' scene). i love pete he seems like such a caring and genuine person and I wish everyone gave him more credit. like, just because y'all got the life sucked outta you already doesn't mean you have to do it to him too.

[reipasento]

🎁🚗💰

Muse skillset symbol meme

🎁 — giving presents to others

"What kind of 'skill' do you even need to give out presents?" Words spoken from someone who truly never had anyone in his life to give any presents to before. "There's no trick about it, so what's there to know? But first of all... A person needs to deserve that kind of thing! I won't randomly spend money on stuff for some ungrateful and undeserving folks, you know?"

(ooc) I think you'd really really need a high status in Shin's life for him to pick out a good present for you. Even when you befriend him in the extra mode, he says a stupid line like "Don't worry dinner's on me" while handing you a bento box where the date's already kinda expired. I do think it's what he usually eats himself (since he works in a convenience store) but that's still such an awful present to give away lmao... What a shithead.

🚗 — driving

Ah, that one was a wound point. "That's..." No way he could have afford driving lessons before, not to mention a car! "I intended to get my license, but uh... things happened! But hey, that's life, right?"

(ooc) I think he'd love to drive- less walking and being all comfortable after all. Alas, a distant dream for someone like him. If he COULD drive however, I see him as a safe driver before anything. Can't damage that car, that's gonna be expensive!!! ALSO no one would be allowed to touch his car ever.

💰 — finance

"My spending habits? Like any responsible adult, of course I have some savings on the side." It was not much, but no need to talk about that part. "I know how to spend my money wisely, unlike some other infantile adults."

(ooc) Okay, you know. He can totally save up but according to official sketches, he just ends up with impulse purchases anyway. Be it delicious food he craves or some nerd merch junk. He's not even half as much of a responsible adult as he says he is lol. But I do think he usually lives a rater frugal lifestyle (since he has no other choice, mostly)

[bookloveravenue]

CU Hockey Book 3: Goal Lines & First Times by Eden Finley & Saxon James

COHEN

It turns out making out with my best friend in high school could be considered gay. Who knew? Apparently, everyone but me.

Now that it’s been pointed out, I can’t help reliving it in my head. Repeatedly. Goodbye Denial Town, hello Confusionville.

When my path leads me down the gay dating app route, I don’t expect to meet anyone I like, but then I meet him.

He can’t be more opposite than me. He’s smart, he hates hockey, and he identifies as demi—something I’ve never heard of.

Yet I can’t deny something’s there. Something I want to explore in person. If only I could get him to agree.

SETH

All my life, I’ve felt broken.

Sick of being asked if I could be gay by ex-girlfriends, friends, and even my parents, I join a gay dating app to prove a point.

I don’t expect to find what’s always been missing. A real connection.

The problem is, I’m too scared to meet him in person. He’s a hockey player, and I fear when he finds out my twin plays for the NHL, I’ll be overshadowed by my overachieving brother. Again.

Worse yet, what happens if we meet and that connection isn’t the same?

When I tell him I’m not ready, he’s disappointed but supportive. Fate, on the other hand, isn’t as accepting.

I had no idea the person I’ve been falling for is someone I already know.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/56225260-goal-lines-first-times

********

November 3, 2022

My Review: 5/5 Stars

Cohen and Seth's turn and it was so good! Seth is really tired of everyone questioning his sexuality. It's hard enough for him to figure it out, he doesn't really appreciate everyone's opinion. So when his latest girlfriend breaks up with him, he can't help but blurt out a legitimate reason why. And is surprised when she gives him some pretty solid insight. This leads to creating an online dating profile. He can figure out his sexuality and get that emotional connection first before actually meeting anyone in person. It takes off the pressure of the physical parts of the relationship, while also getting to know someone. Too bad online dating isn't easy. At least until he meets Richie. Richie aka Cohen has come to learn that perhaps kissing your guy best friend in high school isn't exactly normal. And he is having his own struggle of figuring out his identity. And when his best friend suggests a dating app, he goes for it. And meets Seth. But he doesn't know it is Seth. Seth isn't keen on releasing his name and Cohen calls him Einstein. And everyone on campus calls Richie by his last name Cohen. So when his profile says Richie, it's safe to say Seth has no clue. As they spend months and months texting and getting to know one another, they start to realize that perhaps they do have a connection. But both are willing to take it slow as they figure themselves out. And when it comes close to wanting to meet... well, it's not in the way either expect! I loved their story! Each of them have a journey to find out who they are and what they want. And when they get to know someone and connect, they start to realize that gender doesn't matter for either. It's really who that person is inside. Such a sweet story! Seth and Cohen fit so well together even when they crossed paths before knowing who other truly was. Loving this series and I'm on to the next one!

[wolffininthestars]

Bittersweet Series

Arcade Mayhem

Jenna walked the streets leading Ava to The Beef. It wasn’t unusual to be heading to the restaurant, where she grew up, just after Mikey’s passing and Carmy taking it over well Jenna was nervous to go. Nervous to see Carmy and have that high school crush flutter back in.

Ava started tugging at her coat pulling Jenna back to reality. “JJ is it Halloween?”

That’s when she saw a bunch of middle aged men dressed up standing in line to get inside.

“Freaks.” She mumbled under her breath as she tapped on the door smiling when Tina opened it.

That’s when she heard Richie and Carmy fighting as they came into the room.

“Why the fuck would you turn this into a arcade competition? Jesus Cousin.”

“Daddy said a bad word.”

That’s when Richie noticed his little girl smiling and waving at him.

“Hi baby.”, Richie walked over, glaring at his niece, placing his hands over Ava’s ears,”What the fuck is she doing here?”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her uncle as she noticed Carmy’s smirk but she was brought back out of her thoughts when Richie coughed.

“Aunt Tiff…” Richie eyed her knowing how she wasn’t supposed to call Tiffany her aunt anymore, at least not around him. “Tiff asked me to babysit and Ava loves the video games here.”

“See good for business!” Carmy grinned as he ran a hand threw his hair mildly amused.

Jenna eyed Carmy. “A five year old liking to play a video game, where her dad works and you having lined up crazy freaks are not the same. This is not San Diego comic con!”

“See, even JJ thinks it’s a bad idea.” Richie shouted. “She would know, making me buy all that shit for Dungeons and Dragons when she was younger.”

Carmy looked at Jenna. “D&D huh?”

Jenna lowered her head. “It was because of a boy.”

The boy had been Carmy, he had just left and Jenna had basically tried to find another boy to crush over and ended up liking a nerd. Turns out D&D was not the game for her and she was asked to leave the campaign after she killed half her teammates with a spell that backfired.

“Also Uncle you bought me those things without me even asking.”

Richie just put his hands up in defense,as if he didn’t know it was true, while walking into the kitchen.

Richie helped raise Jenna with his brother Marcus in prison. He would have done anything for the kid as he felt that she was his own daughter half of the time.

She truly felt like his first born daughter most of the time. Ava was more like a little sister to her and that meant the world to Jenna. In her books family was everything.

Jenna leaned down looking at Ava. “Can’t play the game right now Av’s. Go to uncle Mikey’s,” Jenna stopped talking as she looked at Carmen regret in her eyes. “Go to the office and get your coloring book.”

Carmy just glared at her, knowing that she upset him, but Ava, clueless to it all, walked to the office. That’s when Carmy quickly walked outside.

It was always like Carmen not to speak about his feelings. Most of the time it was Jenna who tried to get it out of him but usually failed. This time she knew to let him go off and figure it out on his own.

Carmy would often go off to reflect and calm down when they were younger. It wasn’t anything new. Now he was outside yelling at the cosplayers.

Jenna watched in horror when some guy started punching Carmy. “Uncle Richie!”

Before she even knew what was happening Jenna heard the gun go off. Of course her uncle would bring out his weapon.

Jenna heard Ava yelling questioning what was going on. “Stay in the back Av’s!”

She knew what it was like seeing your father holding a gun. Jenna was about three when it first happened and she didn’t want Ava to see this. Her baby cousin didn’t need anymore of a traumatic childhood then she already has.

Too many times Jenna had seen her father leave in handcuffs. She knew Ava had seen Richie and Tiff fighting before the divorce. All she wanted was to keep Ava safe and away from the pain.

Jenna sat in the dining area of The Beef while the morons played the video game. Ava was into the tournament watching as she colored.

She got up motioning to Sweeps if he would keep an eye on her cousin with his nod she made her way back into the office.

Carmy sat quietly with his hands holding his head up on the desk. He was mad at Mikey for leaving this place to him, mad that he was back, but mostly mad that he didn’t know how to fix this place.

He smelt her vanilla scent that she always wore, not even turning around to acknowledge her presence.

“I wondered what was in that box.”, motioning to the open blue cardboard box that he now knew held Ava’s toys.

“Mikey always seemed to buy something new every few weeks and hid it in there for Av’s.”

Carmy sighed, making Jenna put her hands on his shoulders. At first she held them in place but when Carmen relaxed into her touch she started rubbing his shoulders.

“You did good today.”

He huffed, “Barely made a profit more like it.”

“A little profit is better than how it was before.”

Carmy shook his head. “Says you butterfingers. What did you say that this wasn’t comic con? Of course you knew about that with your D&D playing days.”

Jenna lightly smacked his shoulders. “D&D campaigns and by the way thanks for that. You left me here to fend for myself.”

“We never hung out, Jens.” Carmy turned around now looking at her. “You were an annoying fourteen year old girl.”

Truth be told, Carmy never had any real close friends, just Mikey and his group. Jenna was probably the only real friend he had that he wasn’t related to.

She gave him a look. “I didn’t see you hanging out with anyone else?” Jenna leaned on the desk. “We walked home together, did homework together…” Carmen chuckled as she continued. “Okay I did homework and had to kick you under the table to focus on yours. We might have not had the normal stigma of friendship but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice your absence.”

Carmen looked into her blueish green eyes and they were hurt he could tell. He never really thought that she saw him as a true friend. He was lying to himself about their friendship.

Carmy now felt uncomfortable and anxious. His breathing picked up as he fiddled with his hands.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

Jenna put her hands in his own. “We were kids, Carmy I get it. Having a younger girl follow you around doesn’t scream the best kind of friendship.”

Her hands slowly left his, though Carmy wished they would have stayed like that longer. She always seemed to calm him down. Jenna ruffled his hair and sighed. “Go get some sleep Carebear. You look like you need it.”

He chuckled. “Ouch that one hurt Butterfingers.” She was at the door frame before he called out. “Jens.” Her eyes bore into his like they were hoping for him to say what she dreamt of. “Ah I guess thanks for being my friend.”

Jenna gave him a small smile and nod as she turned away. Friendship was a good start.

[occasionaloneshots]

Flowers and Birds

Losers club x Platonic! Fem. Reader (Mainly Stan based, won’t lie)

Watching her cry was something new to the Losers but they would all be there for her. Based off of my Being the Youngest Loser headcanons (I am adoring of my own headcanons and I’ll probably use them again) 

CW: De*th mention/de*th anniversary/birthday of a de*d loved one, pennywise canon mention, Sort of a hurt/comfort maybe you’d call it more mutual comfort?, the word “suffocating”, a (Y/n) who cries early in (I know a lot of people hate that but I’m sensitive and also will cry over “Are you okay”, so sorry)

Word Count: 1.4K

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    The losers club was a safe place for (Y/n), that was something she quickly learned. And in theory she knew that they would understand her being upset about things. Feelings weren’t a silent topic, she had seen Stan and Eddie cry at least twice in the year she knew them, but she didn’t want to show hers around them. She wasn’t exactly sure why she didn’t want them too see her when she was upset. Maybe it was because she was the only girl in the group or maybe it was because they all called her the baby. But regardless of the reason, the girl was stubborn about it. She could handling being with the guys for a few hours, put on a fake smile for them, then she could go home and sob while ignore her jewelry box like it was the plague. Backing out of plans was never something she did, it would tip off the guys that something was wrong. She shouldn’t be alone all day today anyway, right?

      So she put on her best fake smile as she climbed down the clubhouse ladder. The voice of Richie Tozier met her ears as soon as her feet hit the ground. “That’s where that shirt went, thief!” “You gave it to her last time we were at the quarry smart guy,” Eddie’s voice quips back just as fast and on any other day she would laugh about it. “Do you want it back, Rich?” He paused, looking deep in thought, “No, go ahead and keep it. looks better on you anyway. Plus people will think I have a really hot girlfriend.” The wink that followed the words actually earned him a slight smile back. “As if anyone would believe she’s your girlfriend, Richie. People already think she’s kidding when she says that she’s friends with us,” Stan scoffs over at the dark haired boy. He turns back to give her a smile, face falling as he looked at her, “Are you okay, (Y/n)?” 

      The question seemed to break a dam in her. She knew if anyone asked that she would break down and Stan was on the list of people who could read her like an open book. And suddenly she was tearing up, looking away from him but accidently locking eyes with Bill. “Hey, w-what happened?” The second question had her sobbing, she didn’t fully know what triggered it. Before she knew it she could feel some one on all sides of her. Mike rubbing her back and Richie cupping her cheek, Stan and Bill both holding her arms to keep her steady. Eddie trying to force a tissue into her hand and Ben resting a hand on her shoulder. And she was thankful for the fact that she had friends who were that worried about her, but the six of them adding to the already existing heat of the clubhouse and the heat being created in her face made her feel like she was suffocating. “Can I,” she takes a shaky breath, “Can I get a little space?” The guys nod, backing away, she did however take the tissue Eddie was trying to give her. 

      “What ha-happened?” “It’s June tenth,” she gave Bill a sad look, being met with a soft look from him. “Oh,” his voice was soft as he reached back out for her and the girl leans into him. Shaking hands finding their way to the back of his shirt, clinging to the fabric. (Y/n)’s face was pressed into his chest, not crying as hard now but still sniffling, a few tears joining them. “What’s June tenth?”  Bill looks over to Ben with a soft smile, “It’s her sister’s birthday.” It’s also the day that clown got her, (Y/n) thought, finding her fists tightening more around the fabric of his flannel. “You have a sister? Why haven’t we met her?” Ben’s cheery voice held a hint of confusion. Why would someone cry over a sibling’s birthday? “She disappeared on her birthday two years ago,” (Y/n) took a deep breath, “They found her body near the end of that summer with uh,” her eyes cut up to Bill’s, “The other kids who disappeared that year.” Then came the pity. It was a small town, she assumed the other kids remembered the missing posters but then again there was so many who could blame them. 

       Bill rubs her back, not wanting to talk about it, she couldn’t see the way the six boys shared a panicked look. “Hey (Y/n), you want to go get some fresh air?” Stan’s voice was shaky, desperate to get out of the new energy that had been introduced in the clubhouse. “Yeah, yeah, please,” she nods, patting Bill’s arm. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head before softly pushing her over to Stan. The leader falls back into his seat beside Mike from before, watching the two leave. (Y/n) swears that she hears a soft “do you think she knows about it” from what she thinks is Eddie’s voice but then again maybe she was imagining  it, projecting. Stan lead her towards the park, neither trying to make small talk. And when they got there, he just fell to the ground, legs crossing as he did, almost as if it was habit. The girl followed his actions before pausing, “Would it make you uncomfortable if I laid on you?” Stan shook his head, honestly desperate for some sort of comforting touch. So she laid with her head on his crossed legs,  looking up at his face as she pulled her legs up towards her. 

       “Do you want to talk about her?” The boy was obviously on edge and it bothered her. Did she cause that? “Not really no, the wound’s still kinda open, you know?” He reaches up to touch the scars that line the sides of his face, “Yeah, I get that.” She watches the motion in confusion, “How did you get those?” His shoulders stiffen, “Oh uh, dog attack when I was a baby, I’m still kind of freaked out by them.” She nods, reaching over to grab his bird book off the grass beside them. Stan watches as the girl opens it, laying the bird book on her own chest, “What type do you normally see out here?” He lets out a soft laugh, “Good job changing the subject.” The girl pouts, “No I’m serious, I wanna hear about them, we never hang out alone.” The boy’s dark eyes sparkle a little, the stressed energy seeming to relax off of him in a way that made a small smile rise to her lips. 

     The duo wasn’t sure how long they were there before their friends showed up if they’re honest. Both sort of lost in their own activity. Stan was trying to explain to her what birds were native to their part of Maine but the girl in his lap was honestly lost on the difference between them. Most of them looked like little brown birds to her but she was trying at some point. Now however she was plucking the little flowers (weeds if she was being honest) out of the grass around them, trying to balance them in his curls. Stan trying not to laugh at her actions. “Good to see you two calmed down,” Mike’s voice made them both look up at him. “He’s very comforting,” She nods, “What are you two doing here?” “You two have been gone for two hours. We came to make sure you were okay,” Ben rubs his arm as he speaks, careful of how he choses his words. 

     “We were ga-going back to my how-house to watch a movie, do you ta-two want to join us?” “What movie?” The girl sits up as Stan moves his book from it’s resting place on her. “D-Do you want to choose?” She smiles at him, “You have the Little Mermaid?” “A Disney movie? You really are the baby,” Eddie shakes his head. The girl scoff as she stands up, reaching out to help Stan up, “That’s tough talk for a guy who cried while we watched Dumbo last week, Eddie.” He sputters about to respond before Richie cuts in, “That’s so sweet, our little ones watch Disney movies together Mike, we truly are dads now.” The other boy rolls his eyes, “Sure, you guys ready to go watch a movie now?” (Y/n) and Stan didn’t realize it then, but flowers and birds would soon become their escapes for when they were stressed, and it lead to a closeness that made her feel safe to cry around the boys, her boys. 

[fuji09]

What's your take on Richie's sexuality?

I'm just curious. Because if we go miniseries/book he's definitely more bi (to me) but the movies push for him to seem gay and just gay

I actually like both versions, and think both takes are valid, plus you get more content if you're not picky (the part of me that projects will always appreciate bi hcs though) so I was just curious since you're like the one IT blog I follow right now lol

(Oh, and what's your hcs for the other Losers sexualities? If you'd like to share)

Oh this question, this question made me so excited to answer it! Also I am honored to be the only IT blog you follow at the moment.

My take is that Richie Tozier is bisexual. We have plenty of evidence in the book that he struggles with finding Eddie attractive in the same way he finds Bev attractive. He's confused by it and feels like a monster, hence the werewolf being such a key element in his character and arc. He's afraid of being affectionate with his friends because he doesn't want it to be taken that he's gay.

He falls in love with a woman named Sandy as an adult. When he comes back to Derry, sees the first love of his life, those feelings return, which is why he kissed Eddie on the cheek when he died, kicked the door, and when Bev asked him why he did it, he just said he didn't know, which is where "but he knew well enough", came from.

Richie felt romantic and sexual attraction towards men and women. He fell in love with one man, Eddie, and one woman, Sandy, that we know of.

I feel like Andy decided to give Eddie's gay arc (from the book) to Richie in the movie as an easier move than touching on Richie’s bisexual werewolf arc.

In the miniseries, both the actors for adult Eddie and Richie believed Richie to be bi and Eddie to be gay and tried to portray that as best as they could since they were told they weren't allowed to make it explicitly clear that they were in love with each other. Also there is evidence of Eddie actually being homoromantic asexual, in the book and miniseries.

My HCs for the other loser's sexualities would be:

Eddie: Gay. Totally 100% gay af and in love with Richie Tozier. Sure he finds other men attractive, but his one true love is Richie, plus they can gawk (respectfully) at hotties together!

Bill: Bisexual. I think Bill is an awkward bisexual. He just has that vibe of being shy around guys and girls and don't even get him started on nonbinary people. He blushes big time around nonbinary people because hello!? Have you seen nonbinary people?! Cute af!

Mike: Omnisexual. Out of all the losers, I feel like he would identify as omnisexual since he is attracted to multiple people of multiple genders and one day says screw it, I haven't found any gender I haven't been attracted to, but pansexual doesn't feel right. So he does some research and when he finds omnisexual, he realizes that this is it. This is his sexuality.

Stan: Pansexual. I truly feel like Stan would love whoever he felt attraction to, no matter what gender or lack thereof the person was. Stan is more attracted to a person's personality and their heart. Also loving birds and puzzles is a huge bonus!

Ben: Straight. I know, I know, but hear me out. I totally get other people HC him as bi or pan, but I honestly love the idea of a good, sweet, respectful straight man. It's rare to see that in media honestly. He only ever loves Bev, but honestly I could see him being a little bi-curious. Maybe experiment in college and realize it wasn't for him, and that's totally ok.

Bev: Asexual. More towards the grey-ace part of the ace spectrum, she knows people are attractive, she enjoys sex, but she just doesn't desire it or have sexual attraction for anyone. She loves Ben, thinks he's a total hunk, and enjoys sleeping with him, but it's more him asking her if she is up for sex and if she is, great! If she isn't, also great! Double the cuddle time it is!

Well, there you have it! I really hope this doesn't cause any discourse, everyone's HC or how they view a character is valid. If some want to see Richie as gay because of the movie, they can.

I wish the movie had put in the effort to portray Richie as bi, having representation is still rare in media, and to have that kinda taken away from us kinda sucked. I like to go by the source material since we get the most info out of it, in this case the book, and in the book Richie is quite bisexual.

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

96 with Streddie!!!!!!!

“Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”

***

Flopping on the couch, Richie looks over at Bill.

“Hey, Bill?”

“What?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I swear to God, Richie, if you ask me one more time what time it is, I’m going to murder you,” Bill growls.

Richie laughs. “I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“Oh.” Bill’s face softens a little. “What were you going to ask me?”

“I was just wondering… what time it was… two minutes ago.” Richie snorts with laughter as Bill picks up a couch cushion and proceeds to attempt to smother Richie.

“You are not funny, Tozier!”

“But I didn’t ask what time it is! I asked what time it was!” Richie laughs as he tries to roll off the couch, but Bill is too heavy for him.

“I know you’re bored and you miss your boyfriends, but oh my God! You are so annoying tonight!”

Richie giggles a little. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be understanding.”

“Oh, Richie…” Bill shoves the pillow in his face and gets up. “They’ll be home any minute.” He starts to walk away, but Richie grabs his thigh.

“Where are you going? They’re not home yet. You promised to take care of me.”

“Oh, my God! I’m gonna go take a shit! You will be ok for five minutes!” Bill pulls his leg free and walks off.

Huffing, Richie stares down at the carpet. He knows he’s being an annoying little shit, but he’s worried about Stan and Eddie. They’ve been away on business and he hasn’t seen Eddie in almost 6 days, but Stan’s been gone for almost 10. They are supposed to get in soon, but soon isn’t soon enough.

Richie is just about to get up to go bug Bill when the man comes back into the front room.

“I’m kinda hungry and want a snack. You want some chips or something?” Bill asks.

Shrugging, Richie says nothing and keeps looking at the floor.

“Aww, come on, Richie. They’ll be walking in any minute, you’ll see.”

“I know,” Richie mumbles. “I’m just tired. I sleep like garbage when they’re not home. Puts me in a bad mood.”

“You don’t say?” Bill asks sarcastically, and Richie rolls over to look up at his friend.

“You’re not exactly a huge ray of sunshine yourself when Mike’s out of town, don’t try and pretend you are.”

“I never said—” Bill huffs. “I let you- I- shower- fucking- you—”

“What are you saying, Billy boy? You wanna fuck me in the shower?” Richie teases. He winks at Bill when he blushes crimson. “I don’t think that would go over super well. My boyfriends are coming home any minute, as you well know.”

“God, I hate you so much sometimes, Richard.” Bill goes to the kitchen and doesn’t come back for almost 10 minutes.

“Where’s my snack?” Richie asks with a shit eating grin when he sees that Bill is empty handed.

“You said you didn’t want anything you fucking little shit!” Bill shrieks as the front door opens. Both of them look to see who is coming in, and Richie jumps off the couch and rushes to his rather tired looking boyfriends. 

“Oh, thank fuck you’re here!” Bill says to Mike who is right behind them. “He’s— I’m— Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Richie says. He’s draped over Eddie while Stan tries to hang up jackets.

“You cried when I left you to go poop,” Bill says flatly. Everyone laughs including Richie.

“You take forever,” Richie complains.

“You should eat more fiber,” Stan says. “Keep you more regular.”

Bill glowers at him. “I’m done with this conversation. Come on, Mike. You’re buying me dinner. And next time, I’ll pick them up and you can take care of Needy McAnnoying Pants.”

“Oh, you’re so clever, Bill,” Richie says. “You should keep that insult for a book, it’s a real zinger. I’m hurt, truly.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tozier,” Eddie says before Bill can respond.

“Et tu, spaghetti?” Richie holds his hand to his chest in fake horror. “Staniel, can you believe—”

“That you’re an annoying little shit? Why yes, I can.” Stan kisses Richie’s forehead and Richie rolls his eyes.

“I missed you guys.” Richie kisses each of them in turn.

“We missed you, too,” Stan says as he comes up behind Richie, and wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulders.

“You are such a goof,” Eddie says as he shakes his head, smiling. “You eat?”

Richie shakes his head, no. “I was waiting for you.”

“You’re too sweet.” Eddie slaps at Richie’s face playfully. “Where do you wanna go?”

Richie shrugs. “You pick. I’m just so glad you are both home.” He squeezes Stan’s arm and sighs.

Eventually they decide on getting takeout from the Italian place. Richie honestly didn’t care where or what they ate because he was just so fucking happy that his boys were home.

[iamjungshook127]

If you guys feel like trying out another crime game I definitely recommend the game Criminal Stories: Detective games with choices it's an rpg game, has Romance, a lot of interesting cases, Character Customization, Decorate your own office, and your questions get automatically answered by the creators! Here's a little sneak peek of how it sort of looks like:

Those are a few of the titles of the cases and they're pretty awesome 😭Here are a few potential love interests:

Eric Moreira: Eric is our detective partner. He's very strong willed, Smart, Sort of Cocky, Has a soft spot for you (literally only lets you call him by his first name and he opens up to you more than others), he definitely has a lot of secrets which I'm sure we'll find out eventually. Think of him as a meaner/more serious Jake😉 Also you get to go on a date with him when you reach level 3!

This is Tony Chase, he's a bit on the younger side🤔 you also get to go on a date with him on level 3 but I never got the chance to since I downloaded early and ended up on level 4 by the time they added that feature 😭 anyways Tony is our fellow tech person he's fun, spontaneous, funny, has a good sense of humor, and he is very cool 😎 I picked him up when he was interning at his college when this kid got murdered. Literally like a younger Richy😂

I never got the chance to go on that date with Tony so honestly idk if he actually is a love interest but I'll assume it for now! Anyways these next two are sort of love interests but only for the cases we end up getting together (they have a crush on you)

Chris Bernas: Sort of a play boy but he's truly sweet and really cares for you. He's a detective that works with us on a case called 'Ode To A Friend' (if you play you'll find out what it's about 😉) He's cute, funny, nice, and flirty. You two end up going to a bar to get to know each other and end up connecting and he even tried to ask you out in the end but after you two solve the case he ends up taking a break to go visit his family in Canada. It doesn't exactly mean it's the end since the creators sometimes likes to add a previous detective you worked with into a new case with you (also this episode came out two weeks ago so we'll see🤷🏻‍♀️) he's like a less tattood and more preppy Phil. Also Eric hates him and gets jealous 😶

Detective Carson: He definitely has a crush on you and he tries to hide it but you can see right through it (and so can Eric😝sorry I just love him very much) anyways Carson gave you you're first case and worked along side you to solve it: 'The Time Killer' (very fascinating) Carson is caring, kind, serious but also playful. You two like to joke around a little and are great partners and he even went as far as sacrificing his life for you (if you choose him or Eric to do so) he's pretty awesome 😂

The creators will be adding two more characters for your agency eventually and I think at least one if not both, will be girls so we'll see how that goes😁 (sort of still in progress like duskwood) and two days ago they added a new case: 'The Mark Of Death' (might be my fav) The cases are so fascinating but I didnt want to spoil anything soI just talked about some of the characters😅I'll show a bunch of the outfit customizations for you, Tony, and Eric in my next post so stay tuned and if you have questions ask me 😁 by either leaving a comment or reblog and I'll let you know in a post or a simple tag!🧡❤️

[fandomsalive]

Guide Me Home

Guide Me Home | Reddie | Teen and Up | 21,365 words

Summary: “I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies.

**

This has been such a journey to write! I don't remember how long I've been working on it, but it's been at least a few months because I just wanted to get it right. My first rough draft was only 11,500 words, and it quite literally doubled in size and I can't believe it! Here it is, finally, and I am so excited to share it! I hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks as always to my best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity.

Ao3 Link

**

After the world goes dark, Eddie doesn’t expect to open his eyes ever again — it’s therefore a surprise to him when he does.

As his eyes flutter open, he notices immediately that the heavy feeling pressing on his chest, the one that had been making it difficult for him to breathe, is gone. The realization is enough to cause him to inhale deeply, if for no other reason than he can. The feeling of his lungs inflating without any discomfort or pain is a relief, and Eddie lets the breath back out again slowly.

He realizes as he does so that he allowed his eyes to drift shut again, and he opens them slowly.

The world around him is white, nothing but white in every direction. He’s laying down on something, and as Eddie looks down, he realizes it’s a bed — well, a cot, more specifically. The kind you find in a hospital. For a moment, Eddie actually believes that he is in a hospital, but then he looks up again and realizes that he can’t be, because there’s nothing else here.

His brow furrows in confusion as he sits up slowly, wincing reflexively as he does, only — there is no pain. He looks down cautiously and moves his hands to his abdomen where, what felt like moments ago, there had been a huge gaping hole ripped straight through him.

There’s nothing there, now. He’s completely whole, as if the fight with It never happened.

A sense of foreboding starts to clog Eddie’s throat, and he stares wide-eyed at the sheer whiteness around him as he pushes himself free from the bed. At his sides, his fingers curl into fists, and he turns in quick, anxious circles as he searches for something, anything, in the vast nothingness that surrounds him.

Eddie can feel his heart starting to cramp with terror, a stutter caught in his chest, and aches for the inhaler he’d thrown into the fire what must have been at least an hour ago.

What the fuck is happening? he wonders anxiously. Where am I? Where the fuck is this place?

Wherever he is, it strikes fear into Eddie’s heart, and he wants nothing more than to get out. He’d never known what true silence was until now, and he can feel his skin prickling uncomfortably. The more he checks out his surroundings, moving swift on shaky legs, the more it becomes clear that there is nothing else here, and the sheer force of the vast emptiness nearly knocks Eddie flat on his ass with terror.

It’s just as the panic is truly beginning to set in that Eddie hears a voice.

“You’ve been asleep a long time,” it says, echoing all around him. Startled, Eddie jumps in place, and immediately raises his hands defensively.

“Who’s there?” he demands, glaring into the vast nothingness. He cranes his neck to look above him, the only place he hasn’t looked, but finds nothing.

Oh god, oh fuck, oh shit, he thinks, twisting his body around again to check behind him, and then again to make sure nothing has appeared in the short moment he wasn’t looking.

As tends to happen when Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he gets angry. “Hey!” he shouts, when the person still hasn’t answered him. “Answer me you fucking asshole!” he adds rashly, shuffling backwards, towards the hospital bed.

His hands are shaking.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” the voice replies, a calm, deep tenor. Eddie’s back locks up with rigid terror.

“How do you know my name?” he shouts defensively, eyes still darting around the bright nothingness he’s found himself in, even though he knows that it’s useless.

There’s nothing here.

“Who the fuck are you? Where are my friends?” he asks, voice quavering in the quiet, but there is no immediate response. Eddie is left, again, to his own thoughts and fears, and he scrambles at the back of his mind for some kind of memory that’ll tell him what the hell is going on. The last thing he remembers is Richie telling him he’ll be right back for him, and then —

Well… dying.

Oh god, he moans inside his own head, and lets out a whimper into the quiet air. What happened to Richie? What happened to Bill? And Ben, and Bev, and Mike… Are they dead? Is he dead? What the hell is going on? he asks himself.

“I know all of you,” the voice says, calm, and Eddie jumps, pulled abruptly out of his panicked spiral of thoughts, only to be launched into a brand new one.

Pennywise, he thinks, and trips backwards, until his back hits the hospital bed. True fear grips him hard, as he imagines what’s going to happen to him now. Pennywise has him trapped somewhere, maybe inside of his own goddamn mind, like he had Beverly twenty-seven years ago. Did he get caught in the deadlights? No, that was Richie, not him, and he’d thrown the spear straight into Pennywise’s throat, hadn’t he?

Fuck! Pennywise should have died, then! Eddie killed him, he killed that motherfucking clown, and now he’s back and he’s going to torture Eddie and —

Running on sheer adrenaline, Eddie shouts “I’ll fucking kill you, asshole, I swear to god! Don’t come near me or I swear I’m going to—” Eddie’s voice cracks as he fails to come up with a proper threat. He can feel his throat closing up as he waits for some kind of response, but it doesn’t come.

Eddie’s mind scrambles for answers, for any indication of what the hell might be going on. He doesn’t really remember what happened, his memories a tangled blur. He’d told Richie to go, hadn’t he? Before he… before he died, maybe. He told Richie to go, but why? Where had the others been, while Eddie was laying there bleeding to death on the cistern floor? Fuck, where had they been?

And then Eddie remembers — he remembers telling the others how to kill Pennywise. Make him small, he’d said, and all the others had run off into the main cavern to do just that. Eddie remembers hearing them shout insults at him, remembers telling Richie that the others needed him, that he needed to go, now.

They’d killed Pennywise. Surely they’d killed him?

“You’re dead!” Eddie screams when he finally manages to get his breath back again. “We fucking killed you!” he adds, desperate now. He can feel his legs give out on him at the same time as his ass hits the side of the bed, misses the landing, and hits the ground hard. Tears fill his eyes, half from pain, half from fear, and he glares up into the blank sky and screams, “We killed you!” around a sob stuck in his throat.

Oh god, he thinks, Oh god, we came back here and for what? he wonders, allowing the tears to overwhelm him. He shoves his face into his hands and just lets himself cry, shoulders shaking as he thinks of his friends. If he’s here, in whatever the fuck this place is, all alone, what happened to the rest of them? Are they somewhere here too, or maybe in their own nightmare of Pennywise’s devising? Eddie thinks of Richie, of one of the last things he’d said to him (“I fucked your mom.”) and wishes more than anything that he could change it.

Suddenly, just as Eddie’s tears are reaching a crescendo, a sense of calm settles down on his shoulders and floods through his veins. Eddie shudders at the touch, hiccuping over another broken sob, and raises his head to stare up into the sky.

“What—” he tries, voice cracking. “What are you doing to me?” he tries again, this time managing to shape the words with his tongue. The calmness settles deeper inside of him, and then an all-consuming knowing settles into his soul.

“He is dead,” the voice promises, obviously referring to Pennywise. The tone is soothing this time, grandfatherly, deep, and even before the voice speaks, Eddie knows what it's going to say.

Pennywise is dead. He’s really dead. He can’t hurt Eddie anymore.

The knowledge sits there in Eddie’s mind for a long moment, seeping into him. He feels his limbs relax as he lets it in, and closes his eyes. His lips are still parted on half-spoken words, but after a moment, they drift shut too.

Pennywise is dead. He’s dead.

Eddie shudders at the thought, and finally opens his eyes. He stares dumbly at nothing. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, “Okay.” He just needs to sit with that for a minute. He knows somehow that it’s true, and sure this could all be some crazy, made-up mind game that Pennywise is playing on him, but it doesn’t feel like it is. Pennywise had always felt like madness, but this voice? It feels like benevolence.

Inhaling deeply, Eddie lets out a slow breath before managing to compose himself.

“Who are you?” Eddie asks again, quieter this time. His voice is shaking, and his ass hurts from falling so hard, but the fear feels farther away, now, just out of reach, like the voice is blocking him from feeling anything but calm.

“Maturin,” answers the voice finally.

Eddie nods his head. Maturin. Okay. Sure. Maturin. Whatever that means.

Before Eddie can ask another question, however, an image floats through his mind of a large turtle swimming through the stars in the sky, galaxies and nebula rushing by. On its back sits world, after world, after world — and then it's gone.

Eddie blinks, shocked. He doesn’t know how Maturin did that, put that image in his head, and while it’s a more thorough answer than Eddie could have asked for, it’s still vaguely horrifying to have something shoved into his mind like that. He shakes it off as best he can, and considers it.

“Uhm, so are you like… a god?” he asks disbelievingly. Eddie’s never really believed in god, but if he’s being honest with himself, after what he’d seen down there in the cistern, after what he’d seen when he was thirteen, it wouldn’t much surprise him.

“I am a guardian,” Maturin explains simply but dismissively, to the point where Eddie feels like he shouldn’t pry further. It sounds almost like Maturin wouldn’t tell him even if he asked, like a disgruntled adult who doesn’t feel the information is relevant.

Without missing a beat, Maturin repeats, “It is dead,” and another wave of knowing overwhelms Eddie.

It is dead. Pennywise is dead.

Right. Eddie understands. Pennywise is dead, but… “What happened to the others?” he asks. Some of the forced calm that had been holding his emotions hostage seems to drain out of him, a little at a time, and Eddie finds himself able to worry again.

It’s a question Eddie needs an answer to, and yet an answer that Eddie dreads.

“They are safe,” Maturin assures him.

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief, and he nods mindlessly at the news, his head spinning. Fuck, they’re safe. Thank god they’re safe. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if anything had happened to them. Not after everything they’d done.

And Richie. Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if something had happened to Richie, especially not after Eddie had done everything he could to save Richie from the deadlights.

But what about Eddie? Is he dead? Where is he? Why is he here?

“And…” Eddie hesitates, after a moment. “And me?” he asks a little breathlessly, nervous for the answer.

He expects a sense of sadness to imbue him the same way Maturin had made him feel calm, like Maturin’s feelings had been covering Eddie’s, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, Maturin simply repeats, “You have been asleep for a long time.”

Eddie immediately feels frustrated by the answer, and he glares up at the nothing above him furiously.

“You already said that!” he snaps, annoyed again. His anxiety over his own death is bad enough without Maturin acting all fucking mysterious about it. He just wants a straight fucking answer, is that too much to ask? “What the fuck does that even mean? And where am I? What am I doing here?” he demands, questions quickfire in the still air. His chest heaves with the ache of asking them, and he has to force his mouth shut before he can ask anything else, afraid, already, to know the answer to these.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin replies, voice gentle but stern, “I try to help where I can,” he explains ambiguously. Eddie feels his hands curl into fists at his sides again, ready to angrily snap what the fuck does that mean, but Maturin doesn’t give him the chance, instead continuing, “You are between life and death. Your life hangs in the balance…”

Through the white nothingness comes an image, pressed to the center of Eddie’s eye. He can see himself, clothed in a blue hospital gown, face paler than the sheets and so fucking bloodless Eddie is shocked to witness his chest move with each breath. He can hear the beep of machines, and a soft, blurred sound in the background, as if someone is speaking. It’s a voice that Eddie thinks he recognizes, and then it’s gone.

Eddie blinks the image out of his eye, and stares, shocked.

“I am here to offer you a choice,” Maturin explains patiently, finally seeming to answer Eddie’s questions. “You can move on from this world,” he says, and a plain wooden door appears, suddenly, out of nowhere, to the left of Eddie. It’s not close to him. It’s close enough that Eddie can see clearly what it is, but far enough that Eddie know’s he’d have to make the conscious decision to walk all the way to it. “Or I can take you back,” Maturin says, and another door appears to the right of Eddie, just as far as the first, but in a bright, gleaming gold this time.

For a second, Eddie doesn’t breathe. The choice seems so simple, so obvious. Of course he wants to go back! He’s only forty years old, he has a whole life ahead of him! He’s only just got the Losers back, and they killed that fucking clown! There’s nothing left to hold him back! He has a life in New York to get back to, a wife and —

A wife and…

A wife and nothing else but lies lies lies. Slowly, the same thoughts that had been going through Eddie’s mind since before they’d descended into Its lair drift back through his mind. He hadn’t wanted to die, but… he’d been so sure that he would. He’d wanted nothing more than to go home, but to what? The same thing he’d left twenty-two years ago, when he’d stepped foot out of his mother’s house for what he thought would be the last time, and walked right back into two months later?

Everything that he’d learned with the Loser’s that summer — the manipulation, the placebos, the realization that he was brave — had disappeared within two months of leaving Derry, and Eddie had found himself right back on his mother’s doorstep.

He never really left it again. Myra was everything his mother had been, and he’d gone right ahead and married her anyway. His life was a constant refrain of fear and illness and you’re too weak, Eddie bear, you need me, let me take care of you. When he’d packed his bag to come out here to Derry, he’d filled almost an entire suitcase with medications that Eddie didn’t even need, and it had only taken a few hours for Eddie to remember that he wasn’t sick, that he’d never been sick, and yet back in the cistern, he’d still used his inhaler as if it weren’t filled with camphor water and… and… what did Eddie really have to go back to?

He was stuck in a dead-end, boring job that he’d held for fifteen years, even though he hated it. He was a senior risk analyst with no hope of going anywhere else, making more money than he needed for a man who never spent a dime on himself outside of doctor's visits he didn’t need and medication that did nothing for him. His marriage had been dead in the water from the moment he’d said I do — probably even before that, if he’s being honest — and he and Myra both knew it.

He didn’t really have anything to go back to. He didn’t have a life, not really. He’d been living a goddamn nightmare for twenty-two years, and he couldn’t even begin to fathom how to make a change big enough to make a difference.

He did have the Loser’s now, though. Surely they would be there to help him? But they also had lives of their own to get back, and Eddie couldn’t imagine any of them could have also fucked their lives up so bad that they wouldn’t want to go back to them. Maybe Bev, because she had always been in the same boat as Eddie in some way, with a parent who hurt them in different but fundamentally similar ways. But Bev would have Ben, and would Eddie have anybody, really? Would any of them really want to put up with all of the bullshit that had eroded Eddie away into a nervous wreck? He’d always been a hypochondriac, he knew that, but this was somehow different.

Would they even stay friends, after all of this? It had been twenty-two years for some of them, twenty-seven for even more of them. They didn’t know each other anymore. They might have acted like best friends back in the Jade of the Orient, but that was akin to a high school fucking reunion. You might stay in touch for a few weeks, maybe a few months, after seeing each other again, but eventually, it all faded away...

What if they forgot each other again? The very idea of it makes Eddie’s soul ache, and he gasps back a sob stuck in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain just remembering them. Remembering that summer, and the summers that came after as they each slowly started to drift away until there was no one but him, and Richie, and Mike… and then they were all gone. For twenty-two years, Eddie had forgotten the people who had meant the most to him, and the idea of getting them back, only to lose them again, is more than Eddie can take.

It takes a long moment, but eventually Eddie opens his eyes to stare up into the nothingness and blurts out, “I saved their lives, didn’t I?” He asks it like a question, but it’s not really a question at all. He says, “I saved Richie from the deadlights, and I told the others how to kill Pennywise, and I…” Eddie trails off, chest aching with the bone-deep knowledge that he has done so much more with his life in the past forty-eight hours than he has in twenty-two years.

Maturin says, “Yes.”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t have a reply for that. All he can think is, isn’t that enough?

Before he knows it, hot tears are streaming down his cheeks again, and Eddie reaches up in astonishment to wipe them away. He hadn’t even realized he’d begin to cry. His chest hurts so bad. Slowly, Eddie wraps his arms tight around himself and squeezes hard.

“Fuck,” he gasps and shakes his head. He can feel himself shaking, but it isn’t from the cold. Something like a burning pain rips through his heart when he thinks about dying, but more than anything he just wants to know — “Will they be okay?” he asks through shaking lips.

Maturin makes a deep noise that Eddie can’t begin to articulate, and then he says “Let me show you.”

For the third time, images ripple forward against Eddie’s eyes, until it’s all that he can see. He gasps, and he’s back in the blackness that was Its lair, a stark contrast to the white place he’d been in before. It’s too dark for him to see anything here. There are strong, warm arms wrapped around him, a desperate grip against his skin, and hot, warm tears soaking into his neck. He can hear screaming around him and the roar of a collapsing building.

“Come on Richie, we have to go!” someone is saying, but all Eddie can really hear is the desperate, wet gasping pressed into the column of his neck. “Let’s go man, let’s go!” another someone is saying — Ben, or Bill maybe…

“No,” Eddie hears Richie whimper against his ear, and, with a shock, Eddie realizes who it is that’s holding him. “No, no, no!” Richie screams, and there’s a grappling sensation, like Eddie’s body is being shoved around. Richie doesn’t let go of him, and then Eddie hears “We can still help him guys, we can still help him!” screamed in a desperate plea so heart-wrenching that Eddie can’t bear to hear it.

He gasps out a choked sob of his own, but it goes unnoticed in the flurry.

Someone pries Richie’s arms from him.

“No, please, let go of me!” Richie screams, scrabbling for Eddie, his fingertips grasping at the edges of Eddie’s jacket, and then slipping on through. “Please, no, we can still help him, we can help him!” Richie begs, and Eddie feels another sob wrench free of him. The sound turns into a gasp, and despite the fact that it’s a memory Maturin is showing him, the reaction seems to have happened in real time because Richie screams “He’s breathing! Guy’s he’s breathing, please, help me!”

There’s another desperate scramble, another scream, this time of pain, and then Richie’s holding him in his arms again. Eddie knows it’s Richie because of the shudder in his breathing, the tears dripping down onto Eddie’s face now, the way Richie’s hands are cupping his cheeks, searing in their warmth.

“Stay with me Eds,” he begs, gasping the words around broken sobs, “We’re going to get you out of here…”

“Richie, come on!” Someone yells — Mike?

“We have to get out of here!”

Eddie can hear it, the sounds of the cave falling apart around them. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach, and for a moment he wonders did we make it out alive until he remembers that Maturin had promised him yes, that Maturin had shown Eddie himself in a hospital bed.

“He’s alive, guys, help me!” Richie screams again, and finally, finally, more arms grab at his body. Eddie can feel it as someone grabs his legs, as Richie releases his face, and scrambles around to grip him under the arms, and lift him up. Eddie feels himself be cradled against Richie’s chest even as he grunts, even as he runs, and feels warm.

“Why did you show me that,” Eddie gasps as the images leave his mind. He can feel the tears dripping freely down his face now, and his heart hurts. He doesn’t understand. “I asked if they’d be okay, why did you show me that!?” he demands, letting out a harsh sob. His hands are trembling as he reaches up to dash the tears away, and he swallows thickly, glaring into the white nothing. “Why!?” he shouts, when he still hasn’t received an answer.

“To show you what you missed,” Maturin answers. Eddie expects him to sound remorseful, but he doesn’t.

“Well, I didn’t want to see them when it happened!” Eddie screams, clawing at his face in frustration. “I — I — I knew they’d — They’d be upset and they’d — They’d mourn me but —”

“Did you?” Maturin accuses, piercing Eddie straight through the heart in a place of deep, deep self-hatred that told Eddie that they might cry, but that they hadn’t known him long enough as an adult to really mourn him.

At that moment, he hates Maturin for understanding him so well.

“Show me something else,” he demands, shaking his head roughly, glaring into the nothingness. “Show me — you said I’ve been asleep for a long time. Show me how they are now. Show me how they’re doing now,” he begs, his breathing harsh and heavy as he attempts to pull himself together and stop crying.

He just wants to know that they’ll be okay. He just wants to know if he can move on without leaving something important behind.

Maturin says, “As you wish.”

Eddie feels his eye open to the images again, and shudders at the sensation. He feels rubbed raw, as an image solidifies around him. He’s in the hospital room again — he can tell from the mint walls and the beeping of a heart monitor. He isn’t looking down on his own face this time, but at the ceiling. As Eddie settles into the moment he realizes that this time, he can move his own gaze, as if he’s inhabiting his living body and borrowing it to take a peek into the real world. He’s certain that he’s not actually moving even as he turns his head and gazes at the man sitting beside him.

It’s Richie.

Maturin hadn’t told him how long he’d been sleeping — all he’d (rather unhelpfully) said was “a long time”. Eddie isn’t sure how long “a long time” is, but from the sound of it, it had been at least more than a few days. So why is Richie still at his bedside?

Richie… does not look good. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, a dark scruff dotted around his jawline, and his eyes have dark bags underneath them. He’s dressed in a clean t-shirt with a zip-up hoodie tight around his biceps and Eddie realizes — that’s one of his hoodies. One of the blue ones he’d packed into his bag before he’d come to Derry.

It doesn’t fit Richie very well, and Eddie can’t imagine how he’d gotten it other than Richie going through his luggage to find it. He’s not sure he can bear to consider why.

It looks good on him, despite the small size.

The heavy sensation of crying is still crowding against Eddie’s chest, and the sight of Richie in Eddie’s jacket makes it strangle him tighter. He has to swallow thickly to kick it back down, and even then only because he worries what’ll happen if he cries just then.

He can’t be certain, but when he’d sobbed during that memory of Eddie’s near-death, it had felt like Richie had heard it. He doesn’t want Richie to hear him cry again.

Instead, Eddie takes in the deep lines on Richie’s face, the obvious signs of pain and fatigue, and wishes that he could wipe them away.

“What are you still doing here?” a voice Eddie had almost forgotten about over these last couple of days says, cutting through the thick silence of the hospital room. Eddie only realizes that Richie is staring at Eddie’s face when Richie doesn’t look away to answer her.

“The same thing I do every day, Pinkie,” Richie says in a hollow tone. “Taking over the world.”

Myra doesn’t laugh, but Eddie wouldn’t have expected her to. She scoffs instead, clearly unimpressed with Richie’s sense of humor — not that Richie seems all that jazzed about it right now, either. Eddie doesn’t remember a time he’d heard Richie sound like this.

Eddie hears the sound of a chair being dragged closer to his bed, and turns his head to finally take in Myra. She looks as put together as she always does as she slips into a chair on the opposite side of Eddie from Richie. She’s done her hair and makeup, and in contrast to Richie, doesn’t look as if she’s lost a day of sleep.

“Well I don’t know why you keep coming back here,” Myra sneers, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, and reaching out to take Eddie’s hand in hers. It dwarfs Eddie’s, and Eddie can feel the soft clamminess of it. He tries not to recoil in disgust, but now with his memories returned to him, with the knowledge that Eddie never loved Myra and she was just a replacement for his mom when she died, he can’t stand the thought of Myra touching him.

He knows it’s unfair. She’s his wife, and he’s lying in a hospital bed in what appears to be a coma. She’s allowed to be worried.

The problem is, Eddie can’t help thinking that she doesn’t look worried at all.

“There’s been no change in the last few weeks,” Myra mutters in a volume that is much too loud to really be a mutter, but sounds just as begrudging. “All the rest of your little friends are long gone, so why are you still here?” Myra asks shrewdly, and something about her tone reminds Eddie so distinctly of his mother that he doesn’t know how he never noticed it before now.

Richie doesn’t answer her.

Myra makes a “harumph” noise. “Don’t know why I even let you in here,” Myra snarls to herself, squeezing her fingers tightly around Eddie’s.

“You couldn’t make me leave if you tried,” Richie snaps, and his tone is so hostile that Eddie’s head snaps to look at him. There’s a look of deep resentment in his gaze, a flash of anger that burns hot there.

Even before Myra responds, Eddie knows it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m his wife!” she challenges him harshly. “And I could have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat,” she hisses, glaring at Richie. Eddie can see the way that Richie clenches his jaw in reaction to this, how his teeth grind together for a moment, before he inhales deeply, and lets his shoulders sag in defeat.

“I know,” he mumbles back, avoiding Myra’s gaze now. “Thank you for letting me stay,” he adds, and at best it's begrudging, but it seems to pacify Myra. Her grip loosens on Eddie’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” she replies pompously, and they both shut up.

In the silence, Eddie finds himself wondering why Myra is letting Richie stay. If he’d had a moment to think about what would have happened after Myra showed up, it would have been the Losers being banned from Eddie’s hospital room. At best, he’s shocked at Myra’s kindness, and at worst, he’s wondering what it is she’s angling for here.

It only takes a moment for Eddie to make the connection. It had been the same, with his mom. Once Eddie had gotten old enough to realize that he didn’t have to do every single thing she said, she’d started using Eddie’s friends as bargaining chips. She’d allow him to stay at their houses for longer and longer periods of time, knowing that if she did, Eddie would turn around and take his medicine just the way she’d asked, or stay home watching movies with her on her birthday, or allowing her to coddle him when he got sick.

Myra had always been much the same way, giving Eddie what she thought he might want because she knew if she did, then Eddie would owe her.

She was allowing Richie to stay because she thought it might get her something from Eddie when he woke up.

Eddie clenches his teeth at the very thought. He hates that he’s allowed both his mother and Myra to use him like that. He hates that he ever thought it was okay. How much of a tyrant has Myra been to Richie, to the rest of his friends, just for the satisfaction of knowing that she’s doing Eddie a favor by letting them stay here?

Eddie wonders if Myra ever blamed them for Eddie’s… accident. The thought of it makes him ache for his friends. He knows his wife well, can only just imagine the venom she’s spit at them, and he wonders how Richie can still be around to take it.

Eddie blinks away a new set of tears, and suddenly the vision fades from his mind. His brow furrows immediately, and he blinks a few more times in confusion before he finally asks. “Wait, that’s it? What about the others?” He can’t help the frustration in his tone as he waits for a response.

“You asked to see them as they are now,” Maturin responds gravely. Eddie feels himself inflating with frustration, ready to scream, but Maturin continues, “I can only show you what your body has been there to witness.” His voice is calm, not unkind, but very serious.

Eddie deflates almost immediately.

“Right,” he mutters dully, and crosses his legs on the floor. He swipes a hand through his hair roughly, shoving it back against the top of his head for no other reason than to avoid yanking on it the way he’s so sorely tempted to do.

Of course, it’s not as simple as — as — whatever the fuck Eddie had been imagining. Maturin has done nothing so far to suggest that he can show Eddie just anything. Eddie himself has been in all three visions, so it makes sense that the only things Eddie can see are things he was there for or whatever. It’s just that… Eddie had really been hoping to see more than that.

He just wants to know if his friends are going to be okay without him. Would it be so bad, if he died? The idea of going back is terrifying to Eddie. He doesn’t know if there's anything worth going back for — that was the whole reason he’d asked — and so far all Maturin has shown him is Richie falling to pieces over Eddie’s nearly dead body and Myra treating Richie like shit, neither of which has done anything other than make Eddie feel sad.

He wants to know how long it’s been.

A long time, Maturin had said, and Myra had commented that there’s been no change in Eddie for weeks. Richie’s still there, though, sitting at his bedside, refusing to leave, and it just doesn’t make sense. Why is Richie still there? When did everybody else leave? Had they forgotten Eddie already, now that they were gone? Was that why Richie hadn’t left his bedside?

There are so many questions that Eddie wants the answers to so bad, but more than anything else, he just wants to see his friends.

He rubs his hands over his face and begs Maturin, “Please just… let me see them. All of them, or as many of them as you can get into one room. Before they left.”

Maturin doesn’t answer this time, but he does drag Eddie along into another memory.

“The doctors say he’s recovering well,” Bev announces as she walks into Eddie’s hospital room. Eddie’s already looking in her direction, so he doesn’t have to turn to see her.

She looks much the same as the last time he’d seen her except cleaner, more put together. She’s still in kids’ clothes, faded blue jeans that hit her mid-calf, and a long-sleeved white shirt. The only thing she’s missing is the key around her neck that she’d worn the summer of ‘89 and the thought makes Eddie smile.

She looks healthy, too. There’s a glow in her cheeks that hadn’t been there at the restaurant, and her eyes are bright. Eddie almost wants to say she looks happy, except she isn’t smiling as her eyes land on Eddie’s body. In fact, she frowns the moment she looks at Eddie, and the crease in her brow becomes obvious. There are worry lines all along her face that hadn’t been there before, and Eddie wonders, how long had I been asleep when this happened?

Unaware of who else is in the room just then, Eddieisn’t sure what kind of response to expect, but when Richie asks, “Then why hasn’t he woken up yet?” in a shockingly loud, harsh tone, Eddie immediately flinches. He turns to his right to find that Richie is sitting at his bedside again, only this time he looks a hell of a lot worse.

The dark circles under his eyes are even more prominent than in the last memory, set into this sallow skin. His face looks gaunt, like he hasn’t been eating very much, and the messy, greasy look to his hair suggests he hasn’t showered in a few days either. His beard is even more grown in than when he’d been with Myra, making it rather prominent on his face, and it isn’t exactly a good look for him, either. The bottom is a lot more grey than the rest, betraying Richie’s age.

Looking at him, Eddie can see the grief pure on his face, and it makes his heart ache. God, is this what he’s doing to his friends? To Richie? Making them suffer, because he hasn’t decided whether or not he’s going to wake up?

Unable to face that thought just now, Eddie forces himself to look away. He almost regrets it, when he takes in the look of deep sympathy playing out on Bev’s face. There’s a gentle understanding to her gaze as she steps forward, moving into the space on the other side of Eddie’s bed.

“His body has been put through a lot, Richie,” she explains sadly, taking Eddie’s hand gently in hers. Unlike Myra’s touch, it doesn’t make Eddie want to recoil. In fact, it’s soothing, her skin soft and warm against the cold of his own.

Growling in frustration, Richie snaps back, “don’t you think I know that?”

Bev flinches back, eyes a little wide and wary. Richie glares at her for a long moment, his chest heaving with anger, and then, suddenly, it’s like he deflates. His face absolutely crumples and Eddie wants to cry. He’s never seen Richie look like that, ever.

“Sorry,” Richie mutters, sniffling. It doesn’t occur to Eddie that Richie is holding his hand until he lets go, and he misses the warmth immediately. Richie shoves his face into his hands roughly, miserably, and his shoulders start to shake.

“Oh, Richie,” Bev whispers, biting her lip and staring at him sadly. She doesn’t reach out to touch him, to comfort him, something that confuses Eddie. He wants to beg her to go to him, but she doesn’t. She looks tempted, almost desperate to do just that, but she doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t understand why.

If he were awake, he’d already have Richie in his arms, hugging him tight and allowing him to cry into Eddie’s shoulder instead. Eddie’s done it before when they were kids, on nights when Richie couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares and cried softly in Eddie’s bed, unwilling to tell Eddie what was actually wrong.

Eddie still doesn’t know what used to make Richie cry like that, but it hadn’t been near as bad as the look on Richie’s face just a moment ago, before he’d hid it in his hands.

He aches to hold Richie, to make all of his sadness go away.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bev finally says after a long moment of allowing Richie to cry. She bites her lip, tears welling in her own eyes, and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Richie, I promise.”

“How do you know that?” Richie asks hoarsely, voice thick with tears. When he looks up at Bev, his face is shiny and wet, eyes and nose a deep, painful-looking red. It offsets the darkness under his eyes, makes them look even more hollow.

Bev offers him a watery smile. “Because he’s still alive, Rich. Against all the odds,” she explains soothingly, the tears thick in her throat as well. Eddie watches as she swallows heavily past them, and keeps talking. “He’s been in and out of surgery for weeks, and the doctors say he’s getting stronger. He’ll wake up, Richie, I promise.”

Her eyes are gentle as she nods at Richie, her voice as encouraging as possible for someone holding back tears. Richie stares back at her brokenly, before nodding as well.

Richie goes back to crying softly into his hands, and Bev closes her eyes to visibly compose herself. After a moment, she takes the seat to the right of Eddie, and stares up into his face instead.

“Hey baby,” she murmurs softly to him, petting her fingers over the back of Eddie’s hand. Eddie wants to close his eyes at how gentle and tender it feels. When was the last time someone touched him like that? Not Myra, certainly — she could play gentle with him, but it didn’t feel tender, and more often than not she was likely to grip onto Eddie firmly and direct him to where she wanted him to be.

Bev touching him like this is everything that Eddie hadn’t known he’d been missing, and he finds himself crying again.

“We’re all waiting here for you when you’re ready to wake up, okay?” Bev offers sweetly after another moment. “And we’re not going to forget each other again, I promise,” she adds with a little laugh. “We’ve already checked. Ben had to head out a few days ago, and I was just talking to him this morning. He still knows who we all are,” she explains, sounding a little happier now. “He misses you,” she continues thoughtfully, as if she can feel that Eddie needs to hear it. “He’s sad that he couldn’t stay — work, you know — but I told him that you would understand,” she reassures him and pats the top of his hand.

Eddie wishes that he could tell her that he does understand. He does. He’d known his friends had lives outside of Derry now, lives that they would need to get back to, and just hearing that Ben hadn’t wanted to leave is more than enough.

And he remembers! He still remembers them! Maybe the magic died with Pennywise. Maybe Eddie doesn’t really have to be so scared.

Having said her piece to Eddie, Bev turns back to Richie again. He’s still sitting quietly on Eddie’s other side, sniffling now, but not crying. When Eddie looks at him, he can’t help feeling like Richie looks a little dead-eyed.

“Rich,” Bev says, drawing Eddie’s attention to her. “We’re all here for you, you know,” she tells him confidently, nodding her head fiercely when Richie doesn’t immediately respond. “We’re not going to leave you, either.”

Eddie doesn’t fully understand what she means by that, but Richie seems to. His lips twitch in a smidge of a smile, and he nods in return. “Yeah. I know,” he agrees.

Seeming appeased by this, Bev releases Eddie’s hand and gets up. “Well, I better step out and let Bill come say goodbye. He’s leaving this afternoon,” Bev explains as she turns around to leave. “I’ll be by tomorrow, give Mike a chance to visit with Eddie before Myra comes in,” she explains quietly.

She’s quiet as she leaves. For a moment, Eddie wonders why Bev had to step out for Bill to come in, and then it occurs to him that he might still be in the ICU. They mentioned he’d been in and out of surgeries, and if he’s in the ICU, he’s probably limited to two visitors at a time.

Bev had stepped out so that Richie wouldn’t have to.

Eddie’s chest tightens. He watches Richie closely then, realizing a little belatedly that Richie had mentioned being on tour at dinner the other night. Something melts inside of Eddie as he realizes that Richie clearly hasn’t left his side in weeks. He’s dropped everything for Eddie. For Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so he does both.

It hurts, seeing this whole thing tear his friends up. A part of him is shocked that any of them are still here, and yet deep down inside of him, he isn’t surprised at all. Of course they’re still here for him. Did he really expect them to just up and leave? Did he really think that after twenty plus years of being without each other, they’d be willing to let each other go again?

Eddie knows that he isn’t willing to. Eddie knows that if it were any of his friends in this situation, he would do the same thing. Hell, he’d risked his own life to save Richie’s because Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done if Richie had died.

If Richie had been the one to get hurt down in the cistern, Eddie probably would have reacted just as passionately. And he knows that if it were Richie in this bed, Eddie wouldn’t leave his side either.

“Hey,” Bill says, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts, and sitting down in the seat Bev had vacated some time ago. Eager to see his friend, Eddie turns to look at him, and feels relief fill his veins. There’s just something so comforting about seeing the other Losers alive and well.

Bill looks healthy, and like Bev before him, there’s a lightness to him that hadn’t been there at the Jade of the Orient. It looks like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders, a weight Bill had forgotten he was shouldering. He looks good, dressed up for travel and well put together.

“Hey,” Richie replies hoarsely. He clears his throat awkwardly, and tries to hide the fact that he’s been crying.

Bill doesn’t buy it. “How are you doing?” he asks gently in a voice similar to Bev’s, like he’s treading lightly. His gaze is sympathetic.

Richie shrugs, rather than answer, and turns to look out the window. Bill stares at the side of Richie’s face for a long time, before sighing audibly and turning his attention on to Eddie instead.

“Hey buddy,” Bill greets him, smiling. “I heard you’re healing pretty well,” he adds, eyes flickering to where Eddie is sure the bandage is wrapped around his body underneath the hospital gown. Bill’s lips twitch, like it’s hard, even now, to imagine Eddie’s injuries. He looks away quickly, back to Eddie’s face, which seems to be a much safer area to look at.

“We really miss you, you know,” Bill tries to say jokingly, in an obvious attempt to relieve some of the tension filling up the room. He glances over at Richie, and then back to Eddie when Richie doesn’t so much as twitch in response. “Especially Trashmouth over there,” Bill stage whispers, like it’s a secret, and obviously trying to drag something out of Richie, though what, Eddie doesn’t know. “I’ve never known him to be so quiet,” Bill teases, winking at Eddie’s prone body.

For the first time, Eddie realizes that Bill’s stutter is gone, and he marvels at that. Ben hadn’t forgotten them after leaving Derry, and Bill’s stutter is gone. Maybe the magic really is dead.

Bill’s humor is quick to disappear when Richie doesn’t immediately jump in to tease him back, or otherwise defend himself. It seems to bring Bill back to himself, because he sighs and says, “But you know, I really can’t stay much longer. I wish I could, I really do, but… I have to get home,” he explains regretfully, and he truly does look like the last thing he wants to do is leave.

Eddie aches with the knowledge, his heart swelling with a mix of happiness and sadness. His friends love him, there could be no clearer truth in the world, and he was hurting them.

Eddie doesn’t want to hurt them. He realizes then, with sudden clarity, that he wants to go back.

Seeming to pull himself back together, Bill smiles at Eddie and says, “So it would be really nice if you could maybe wake up now,” he teases, but there's a sadness to his voice this time that hadn’t quite been there before, like he knows that Eddie isn’t going to wake up for him, but he wants it so so bad.

There’s a beat where no one says anything. The beep of Eddie’s heart monitor is the only sound in the room.

Bill sighs.

“Tried that already,” Richie finally interrupts, turning to offer Bill a half-smile. Bill’s eyes are a little wet when he meets Richie’s gaze, but he huffs a quiet laugh regardless. “Asshole intends to keep us waiting,” Richie adds with a soft huff of his own, and glares playfully at Eddie. “I told him if he wakes up I’ll…” But Richie doesn’t continue. Instead, he turns to stare back outside the window, his lips trembling slightly.

Richie tangles his fingers together in his lap, and holds on tight.

Eddie feels his brow furrow. Richie’ll what?

Bill doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares at the side of Richie’s face cautiously, thoughtfully, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or not. Finally, Bill leans in closer to Richie and asks, “Are you going to tell him?”

Richie doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as twitch. He looks frozen in place, like the smallest move could break him. Bill bites his lip, but presses on, “You should tell him.”

Eddie blinks in confusion, and the memory dissolves.

Tell him what? What should Richie tell him?

“Have you decided?” asks Maturin, breaking through Eddie’s thoughts before he can even truly begin to consider what Bill had been talking about. Eddie’s eyes snap upwards, in the space where he’s decided Maturin must be, regardless of whether or not Eddie can see him, and nods his head slowly.

“Yeah… I mean,” Eddie mumbles, shaking his head to clear away the haze of confusion. He frowns, thinking about Richie and the way that he’d looked, sitting at Eddie’s bedside for so long. Sure, Bev and Bill had looked sad when they’d come to visit Eddie, but they hadn’t looked like Richie. Richie had looked absolutely destroyed. He’d been the only one there, too, in that first vision, and hadn’t Myra said that the rest of his friends were gone?

Eddie doesn’t understand.

He looks up again, and asks, “Why is Richie still there?”

There’s silence, for a long time, and then Maturin says, “He’s waiting for you.”

There’s no warning this time. Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to blink before he realizes that he’s back in the hospital room — only this time it’s dark. The lights are on, but the window is open and it’s clear that it’s nighttime.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t understand what’s going on. He thinks, briefly, that he must have woken up without an answer to his question, and it makes him irrationally angry. He starts to rail against Maturin in his mind, thinking what the fuck does that even mean!? before he hears a quiet sob.

Eddie turns his head. Richie’s face is pressed against Eddie’s palm, and Eddie can feel tears dripping down Richie’s cheeks. He’s crying quietly, hiccuping over sobs the same way he had been down in the cistern, only softer this time, a little less frantic. He’s bent in half over Eddie’s bedside, so much so that Eddie can’t really see his face, but he can feel the heat of him from where Richie has pressed Eddie’s hand to his cheek.

“Wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, begging. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been crying for a very long time. “Please, just wake up,” he says again, “I’ll do anything just to hear your voice again.”

Eddie feels his heart launch into his throat, and suddenly he’s crying too. It hurts so fucking bad to see Richie falling apart like this.

Eddie wishes he could talk to Richie, that he could hold Richie back. But despite looking through his own eyes, Eddie knows that he can’t actually move his body. He knows, in fact, from Richie’s perspective, Eddie’s eyes aren’t even open. And he knows, above that, that this is just a memory.

Eddie couldn’t comfort Richie in this moment no matter how much he wants to, because it’s already happened.

“I just got you back,” Richie gasps after another moment, his voice sounding almost loud in the quiet room. Eddie’s lips tremble with anguish, because Richie looks so alone. “I’m not leaving you until you wake up,” Richie adds roughly, squeezing tight to Eddie’s hand.

Eddie closes his eyes, because looking at Richie like this hurts too much.

“Fuck,” Richie mumbles after a long moment of silence, and turns his head against Eddie’s palm. Eddie feels the soft, warm pressure of lips against his skin, and realizes that Richie is kissing the center of his palm.

It sends a jolt of shock through Eddie’s body, and he feels warm all over. His breath catches, surprised at the unexpected touch. Something like excitement sparks deep inside of him, and Eddie scrambles to understand.

“I never even got a chance to hold you,” Richie whispers against his palm, turning his head again so that Eddie is cupping his cheek. Eddie holds his breath, straining his ears to catch every last word of what Richie has to say. “You can’t die, Eddie,” Richie whimpers, shoulders shaking with his sobs. “Not yet. Fuck, Eddie, please… I never got to tell you…”

Tell me what!? Eddie wants to scream, but he knows that Richie can’t hear him. A thought claws at the back of Eddie’s mind, a memory, something that he’d felt back when he’d first seen Richie in the Jade of the Orient. Something that he’s felt for a very long time, but that he’d buried long before he’d even left Derry.

He hears something of that in Richie’s voice, and begs him tell me, Richie, just tell me.

Richie doesn’t. He just continues to cry.

“Please wake up, Eddie,” Richie whispers, “Wake up and I swear to god, I’ll tell you. But you have to wake up first. Please.”

Richie doesn’t raise his head, but he does turn his face and kiss the center of Eddie’s palm again. His lips are so warm and chapped against Eddie’s skin. It doesn’t feel like anything Eddie has ever felt before in his entire life — not when his mom used to kiss him on the forehead, not when Myra used to kiss him before bed. It’s not quick and perfunctory, it’s long and leisurely and so fucking fierce that Eddie burns with it.

It’s something that Eddie has wanted for a long time, and as he stares at Richie he sees something in his eyes that tells him that maybe Richie has wanted it just as long.

Eddie’s heart bursts, and he remembers.

When Eddie was sixteen, the summer just before his senior year, his mom decided that they were going to move to New York to live with Eddie’s aunt. Her health had been declining for years, and Eddie’s mom had volunteered to come and care for her.

Eddie hadn’t had a choice. He was too young to live on his own, let alone fight his mother to stay behind in Derry, and he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could get away with running away, so he’d been forced to accept his fate.

He, Richie, and Mike were the last of the Losers left in Derry at the time, and even before he left, Eddie knew that everything was about to change. They’d watched Bev, Bill, Ben, and then Stan leave, and while all four of them had promised to call, to come back and visit, they never did. It was like something happened to you when you left Derry, because none of them could really believe that their friends would have just forgotten them like that.

The first time, sure. Maybe Bev just didn’t want to think about what had happened in Derry anymore, maybe she didn’t feel as close to the rest of the Losers as they had to her. But then Bill had gone, Big Bill who Eddie had been friends with since first grade, and it just didn’t make sense.

So, by now, they knew. They knew that the moment one of them left Derry, they’d never hear from each other again. The realization that this was Eddie’s last chance to tell Richie how he felt had been a difficult pill to swallow, but in the end, he’d decided he had nothing left to lose.

This time, when Eddie remembers, it's not an image pressed to his eye by Maturin, it’s just a memory.

Eddie’s lying in the middle of his bare mattress, sheets stripped away and shoved into a bag at Eddie’s feet. He can hear the movers downstairs, dragging furniture out into the front lawn. He knows it’s going to take them a while to pack everything downstairs into the moving van, so he has time to laze about and wait for Richie to come say goodbye to him.

He’d reading a comic book Richie had given him for his birthday last year — X-Men #4, The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants!

(Eddie had kept that comic for sixteen years, until his wife found it buried in a box full of Eddie’s old college things and threw it out. He hadn’t remembered what it was, then.)

He remembers now, and though the comic hadn’t really been anything special, it had been one of the few items not already packed up before the move. He and Richie had always read comics together, from their days in the hammock all the way through high school. It felt like home, holding that comic, flipping through the pages and scanning over the art, and Eddie was comforted by it.

He’s anxious. He hasn’t decided yet what he’s going to say to Richie when he arrives, but he’s promised himself that he won’t let Richie say goodbye without telling him how he feels. He keeps tapping his foot against the edge of his bed, his eyes darting from his comic to the door and back, over and over again. He’s not looking at his door when Richie comes in.

“Hey loser,” Richie announces himself, pushing Eddie’s door open without knocking. Eddie jumps at the sudden arrival, and frowns at his best friend, but doesn’t comment on the nickname.

“Hey,” he greets back instead, his voice a little subdued, and watches as Richie approaches the bed and flops down on it next to Eddie, uninvited, laying down too. Eddie rolls his eyes but knocks shoulders with Richie companionably anyway. He feels warm all the way down his arm where they touch, and only pulls away reluctantly.

“What’cha reading?” Richie asks, plucking the comic book from Eddie’s hands. Instinctively, Eddie snatches the comic back quickly and shoves it to the other side of his bed, next to his open backpack. Richie stares at him in shock, and Eddie grimaces.

“Woah, Eds, calm down,” Richie teases him, though he looks concerned. “You hiding a playboy or something?” he asks with a nervous grin.

Eddie huffs angrily and glares at the ceiling. “No fucknut, don’t be disgusting,” he spits at him, thinking I just don’t want anything to happen to the comic if we screw around with it. He doesn’t say the words aloud, though, because he knows he sounds ridiculous. It’s just that… Richie had given that to him, and Eddie doesn’t want anything bad to happen to it, not when… when soon it’ll be all Eddie has left of Richie.

“Right,” Richie replies dubiously, arching a brow at Eddie. Eddie groans, and shoves his face into his hands.

“Stop being an asshole, Richie,” Eddie hisses defensively. “I’m leaving today, remember?” he snaps at him, more harshly than he’d intended. He winces at his own words, but avoids Richie’s gaze, staring up at the ceiling instead.

“I know that, Eds,” Richie replies softly, his voice quiet and a little sad, and all it does is remind Eddie of why Richie is here right now. He’s been trying so hard not to think about it, not really. For the past week, he’s acted like nothing has changed, but now he has to face the fact that he’s leaving in the next few hours and… it’s just, this is all so fucking unfair.

He doesn’t want to go to New York. He doesn’t want to leave Derry. Or, well, fuck, he doesn’t want to leave Derry like this. He and Richie had promised each other months ago that they’d leave Derry together, that they’d apply to the same schools and leave at the same time and force themselves to remember each other if it was the last thing they ever did, and Eddie wanted that so bad, but then his mom had to go and screw it all up.

The anxiety and pain bubble up and over until Eddie’s blinking back tears, avoiding Richie’s gaze. He’s been pushing it all down for so long that it’s almost not a surprise that he’s falling apart right now, even if he doesn’t want to be.

He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to talk to Richie, because now Eddie can’t even think of confessing to Richie when all he wants is to stay here.

Holding back his tears, Eddie reaches down between his and Richie’s body and scrabbles for Richie’s fingers. He takes Richie’s hand into his the moment their palms touch and hangs on tight. Richie jumps at the contact, but it’s only a moment before Richie locks their fingers together like they used to do as kids.

Eddie’s heart squeezes tight, and he bites his bottom lip.

Fuck, fuck, he’s going to lose this. In just a few short hours, he’s going to lose this forever, and he doesn’t know how to come to terms with it.

“Eddie?” Richie murmurs when Eddie doesn’t say anything else. He squeezes Eddie’s hand comfortingly in his, and waits him out. Richie is so rarely patient, but even for how much of a loudmouth he is, Richie has always known when to simmer down and take care of his friends.

And Eddie’s going to lose all of it.

“We can still try, right?” Eddie finally bursts out, his voice thick with tears. “We can still try to like… see each other again?” Eddie begs Richie, finally opening his eyes and turning his head on the bed to stare at Richie. Richie mimics his movements until they’re both staring at each other. Eddie has tears in his eyes that he’s trying to blink back, and Richie looks so, so fucking lost that Eddie wants to throw up.

“Of course, Eds,” Richie murmurs back, offering him an unconvincing smile. “You’ve got that list of schools we agreed upon, right? We’ll just pick one and…” But even as Richie suggests it, Eddie knows that it won’t work. There’s no guarantee that they’ll both get in, and even if they do, there’s no way to be certain that Eddie will remember which school they’d agreed upon.

Eddie suddenly lets out a broken sob, and rolls over to shove his face into his mattress. His arm hurts from the way he’s laying on it, but he refuses to release Richie’s hand.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, rolling into Eddie’s side and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Hey, Eddie, don’t cry,” Richie begs him, shoving his face against Eddie’s cheek so that his cold nose is pressed against Eddie’s skin. Eddie can feel his breathing hot on his face, and wishes more than anything that he had the courage to turn and kiss him.

He doesn’t. He can’t. He’s crying too hard, and he can’t think of confessing to Richie right now when all Eddie wants to do is crawl into his arms and never let go.

He doesn’t want to go. He so desperately doesn’t want to go.

“Shh,” Richie whispers into his ear, rubbing his arm up and down Eddie’s side and squeezing the fingers of his other hand. “Hey, shh, it’s going to be alright,” Richie promises him.

“No, it’s not!” Eddie wails into his mattress, sniffling hard. Richie holds him tighter.

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Richie soothes him, “We don’t know what happens when you leave Derry, Eds, it’s all just —”

“You forget everything!” Eddie interrupts him, hiccuping over another sob. “You forget all of your friends and you promise to call and then you never do and — and — and —”

Eddie isn’t capable of completing that thought, merely continuing to cry into his stripped bare mattress. He’s getting tears and snot all over it and it’s gross, okay, it’s so fucking gross, but Eddie can’t bring himself to care.

“But we don’t know that for sure, Eds,” Richie reasons with him, voice so quiet and soft against Eddie’s ear. Eddie shakes in his arms but doesn’t answer. “What if… what if it’s not like that?” Richie suggests. Eddie goes to interrupt him, but Richie cuts him off and says, “No, listen. What if once you're on the other side, you just can’t communicate with those in Derry?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

Eddie wants to scream that doesn’t make it any better, but he doesn’t. He hangs onto Richie’s words, and begs the universe to let them be true.

“What if, once I get out of Derry too, I remember you and I come and find you, hmm?” Richie suggests, petting Eddie’s side. “What if we pick somewhere to meet in a year, and promise we’ll both show up? You can write it on one of your planners, and I’ll write it down in my old yearbook, and we’ll see each other again,” Richie promises him, jostling Eddie in his arms a little, and asking, “hmm? Hmm?”

Still crying, Eddie nods his head and says, “Okay,” even as he knows that it’s possible they’ll never see each other again. He wants nothing more than to hope Richie is right, that somehow this will all work out in the end. Maybe he’ll cross the Derry border and he’ll still remember Bill, and Ben, and Bev, and Stan, and maybe he’ll hunt down their numbers and they’ll remember him too, and they’ll all sit and wait for Richie to graduate so that he can come join them at last.

Maybe they haven’t forgotten, Eddie thinks, hopes… Maybe Richie’s right, and they just can’t reach us here in Derry.

Eddie sobs harder, the fear bone-deep that it isn’t true.

Richie continues to hold him, rocking Eddie gently in his arms as he continues to cry. He murmurs, “it’s going to be okay,” over and over again, like a mantra they’re both holding on to. Eddie imagines turning to Richie and pressing his face into his chest, imagines digging his fingers into Richie’s shirt and never letting go.

He imagines kissing him, and Richie kissing him back, and Eddie still having to get up and go downstairs and leave for New York.

He can’t do it. He can’t put himself or Richie through that. He can’t imagine how much it would hurt to find out Richie likes him too, only to lose him almost immediately afterwards. What kind of a goodbye present would that be for Richie, anyway, to leave him behind with all of his memories of Eddie still intact, knowing that Eddie has forgotten him? Or if Eddie hasn’t forgotten, knowing that he won’t be able to see him again for over a year?

Eddie can’t do it.

He cries himself hoarse, and then cries for a little bit longer, and then finally sits up and wiggles out of Richie’s arms. He rubs his face raw against the palms of his hands, and then rubs his hands against his jeans, scrubbing the tears away.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles regretfully, avoiding Richie’s gaze.

“It’s okay,” Richie murmurs back, and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s.

They sit in another long silence, in which Richie drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie sits there and lets him. They don’t speak again until Eddie’s mom calls him downstairs, and then Richie grabs a pen and a piece of paper from off of Eddie’s desk, and sits down to write.

“Times Square, August 18th, 1993. One year from now,” Richie declares heartily, and nudges it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie takes it carefully, tears blurring at his eyes again. “I promise to meet you there.”

Richie’s grin is so young and boyish, filled with a fragile hope that Eddie is sure is reflected on his own face. Eddie forces a grin, and says, “I promise.”

When Eddie opens his eyes again, he’s back in that empty, white space, aching for what he’d lost. He doesn’t regret not telling Richie he loved him back then, especially not knowing what he does now. It wouldn’t have changed anything — Eddie still would have gone to New York, and by the time he was halfway there, he would have already forgotten Richie. He still would have gone twenty-two years without his best friends, and he still would have married Myra.

The only difference might have been that Eddie would have had one, last, shining moment with Richie before he walked out of his life for so long, but even then, Eddie doesn’t regret not doing it. If Richie means what Eddie thinks he means, if he wants to tell Eddie what Eddie thinks he wants to tell him, then Eddie is glad he didn’t leave Richie behind to suffer without him.

But that means that Eddie can’t leave him now.

He wants to go home. He wants a second chance. He wants to see his friends again, and have the life that had been stolen from him twenty-two years ago. He wants to see Richie and find out what it is that Richie wants to tell him, and even if it isn’t what he's hoping, he wants a chance to tell Richie that he loves him.

Richie stayed at his bedside for weeks, endured Myra and what Eddie can only assume was her hatred for a group of friends she’d never met. His friends had carried him out of the cistern and stayed with him in the hospital for as long as they could, and Eddie… well Eddie survived.

He wants to keep on surviving.

“I’ve made my decision,” he tells Maturin.

That same, grandfatherly air is in his voice when Maturin replies, “I am glad when I can help.”

Eddie asks, “How long has it been?”

“Fifty-eight days, Eddie Kaspbrak,” Maturin explains, and says, “Your family is waiting for you.”

Eddie smiles, because he knows that it’s true. He turns and faces the golden door, and without looking backwards, he moves towards it. It takes him fifteen steps exactly to reach it, and when he takes the doorknob in hand and opens it, the world goes black.

**

Eddie opens his eyes slowly. There’s a dull throbbing sensation in his head and in his torso and in his back that hadn’t been there when Maturin had shown him the Losers, and Richie, and Myra. It’s a new, annoying sensation that reminds Eddie he’s recovering. He can hear the heart monitor beeping behind him, the sound a little less steady now that Eddie is stirring, and there's light streaming in through the open window.

He’s groggy, unlike when he was in that strange, white, nothingness, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize that it’s because there are drugs in his system. It takes another minute for him to become aware enough to actually look around, and when he does, he’s disappointed to find that Richie isn’t in the exact same spot he’s been in every other time that Eddie has seen him.

Myra’s there, though, and she’s reading a book, her back turned towards Eddie. She hasn’t noticed that he’s awake yet, which Eddie has to admit is a relief. He needs another moment before he can even think of handling the incoming freak out he’s sure is coming

Eddie takes his first real, deep breath in a long while, and groans when it causes a searing pain to rip through his body.

Myra jumps, and turns to him.

“Eddie!” she shouts in shock, immediately dropping her book to the ground and reaching out with clammy hands to take Eddie’s in hers. Eddie recoils automatically, thrown off by her soft touch, and missing Richie’s calloused hands. He struggles against her, but her grip only seems to grow tighter, so Eddie gives up before he hurts himself.

“Eddie bear, how are you feeling? Are you alright? Are you in any pain, discomfort? Should I ask the nurses for more painkillers?” she asks him, leaving no room for an answer. A concern that Eddie hadn’t seen previously suddenly seems to reside in the soft, puffy grimace of her face.

Eddie hates it, recognizing for the first time in his life just how false it really is. He can see his mother in that look, the faux concern that had controlled Eddie’s life for so long…

Without waiting for any answer from Eddie, Myra immediately launches into a rant. “Oh, Eddie I told you not to come here! I told you that you couldn’t look out for yourself! I told you, didn’t I?” she demands of him, brow folding into a worried line, her lips trembling. “And now you’re here, in the hospital, and the doctors aren’t even sure if you’ll ever walk again! They said there could be brain damage, Eddie! Bain damage!” she presses, squeezing his hand between hers, and practically dry sobbing around the words.

Eddie doesn’t miss the fact that there aren’t any real tears, and he squirms under her touch. This all reminds him too much of his mother, and he doesn’t know how he’s never seen it before. Crocodile tears, they were called. Myra had been using them on Eddie their entire marriage, but this time he isn’t buying it.

“Where’s Richie?” Eddie croaks, finally finding his voice.

Myra immediately stops wailing, and stares at Eddie with wide eyes, as if she’s never seen him before in her life. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, astonished. Then her face hardens, and she straightens up in her chair. The worry and concern are gone.

Eddie hadn’t answered any of her questions. Eddie hadn’t told her it was going to be okay, the way he used to when Myra made a fuss about something. Eddie wasn’t playing the docile husband Myra was so used to, and it was clear she didn’t know how to handle it.

“You mean that awful comedian?” Myra spits after a long moment, scoffing at Eddie. She finally releases his hand and tosses her hair over her shoulder, glaring hard at nothing. Eddie watches her bend to pick up her fallen book and place it on the table next to Eddie’s bed, all without looking directly at him. “He’s gone home, and it’s about time, too,” Myra says, her nose in the air. “He and the rest of your little friends are who put you in this position in the first place, and look what they’ve done! They’ve left you here all alone to fend for yourself! This is why you need me, Eddie bear. I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Myra continues in a haughty tone, talking too fast for Eddie to keep up with. His brain is still slow and sluggish from the drugs, but eventually Myra’s words seem to register with him, and Eddie goes still.

Richie went home? No… he couldn’t have. That doesn’t sound right. Eddie had just seen him, hadn’t he? When Maturin first showed him what was going on in real-time. Surely it hasn’t been that long since the first vision?

Besides, why would Richie have left? It’s been almost two months, and if Richie hadn’t gone home already, why would he go now?

Because it’s been nearly two months, and you still hadn’t woken up, some part of Eddie tells himself, and he goes cold inside. Fuck, had he been too late? Had Richie really given up on him and left, after all this time? Before he could tell Eddie — whatever it was he was going to tell Eddie?

A slow trickle of panic seems to make its way into Eddie’s brain despite the drugs, and he turns his head away from Myra to check the other side of his bed again. There’s no sign of Richie there, not that Eddie even knows what to look for, but… had Richie really gone?

Eddie’s heart plummets, and he frowns hard at Richie’s empty chair. He knows, logically, that it’s not Richie’s fault if he finally went home. There were no signs that Eddie was going to wake up any time soon, and it doesn’t reflect badly on Richie if he needed to get back to his own life now. Eddie also knows that this isn’t his only chance to ever see Richie again, he knows all he’d have to do is call him and Richie would come running right back but… Eddie wants Richie to be here now. He doesn’t want Myra, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want to go home with her.

Before he can really think about it, Eddie croaks, “You’re lying.” He’s surprised at himself for all of a moment, and then the thought rings true. It would not surprise Eddie at all if she was lying.

Myra stops dead again. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Eddie, clearly shocked at his words, and then they narrow.

“What did you say, dear?” she asks, sickeningly sweet, daring him to repeat himself.

Eddie grits his teeth and manages, “Where’s Richie?”

Myra glares at him. “I told you, he’s gone home, where he belongs,” Myra dismisses him easily, but she’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes. She’s looking somewhere around Eddie’s chin, and her chest is heaving like she’s holding back from screaming at him. Eddie’s eyes narrow, and he shifts on the bed, looking for the call button on the side of his bed. The moment he finds it, he jams his fingers against it over and over again.

He needs someone else in here to tell him what’s going on and where Richie is. Surely someone knows where Richie is, and maybe one of the nurses can go and get Richie for him. Anything would be better than being stuck here with Myra all alone, with her lies and deceit and crocodile tears.

Suddenly, Eddie wants nothing more than to be free of her right fucking now.

“Eddie?” Myra asks him, half-hysterical, “Eddie, what are you doing? Who are you calling?” she demands, grappling for Eddie’s hand and finally forcing it away from the call button. Eddie struggles against her for just a moment, until his chest starts to hurt too badly and he’s forced to stop, gasping roughly through the pain. Myra opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something else, but then someone knocks lightly on his room door and strides right on in.

It’s a dark-skinned nurse in green scrubs, her hair a little wild around her face, and the minute Eddie sees her he just knows that she hates Myra near as much as Eddie does. She looks like she’s barely hiding her annoyance at whatever racket Myra is making now, and she’s side-eyeing Myra in a way Eddie recognizes all too well.

Her eyes go almost instinctively to Eddie, however, and the moment she realizes that Eddie’s awake, she gasps “Oh!” entirely cutting off whatever she’d been about to say to Myra, and hurries over to Eddie’s side instead. “You’re awake,” she says, smiling down at him as she bustles over in front of Myra and starts taking his vitals. Her index and middle finger press against his pulse point, and she stares at his chest as she counts his respiration rate.

Eddie smiles wanly at her and nods. He means to ask her where’s Richie? but before he can, she launches into a series of questions of her own: do you remember your name, do you know where you are, are you feeling any pain?

Myra keeps trying to interrupt her, making a huge fuss about the poor lady “harassing” her husband, and demanding that she move out of the way so that Myra can hold Eddie’s hand, but the nurse merely speaks over her, clearly quite adept at dealing with Myra after nearly two months.

Eddie dutifully answers her questions, hoping the faster they get through this, the faster he can ask about Richie: my name's Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m in the hospital, I’m not in too much pain.

The first two answers are true. The third one, perhaps, is a bit of a lie. But Eddie doesn’t want the nurse to pump more drugs into his system, to make his head any cloudier than it is.

The nurse grabs Eddie’s chart from the end of his bed and begins noting things down as she talks to him. She reassures him that everything is going to be okay and that the doctor will be with him after he’s recovered a little more to discuss what’s happened. She asks Eddie to just stay calm and let her know if the pain gets any worse, and then reminds him that he’s doing very well considering his condition. She admits that he’s been in a coma for a couple of weeks, and pats his hand reassuringly as she says, “But you’re healing very well, Mr. Kaspbrak. The doctor will be glad to hear that you’re awake.”

Eddie endures all of this, and when the nurse finally seems to be done talking, he asks her a little impatiently, “Richie, where’s Richie?”

The nurse looks at him oddly for a moment, equal parts concerned with Eddie’s lack of concern with his welfare, and understanding of Eddie’s desire to locate his friend but eventually she smiles. “Your friend went down to the cafeteria about twenty minutes ago. He said that if you woke up, I should tell you ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’” she explains cheerily, a pleased smile on her face.

Eddie feels his chest fill up with warmth, and he finally relaxes, closing his eyes.

After checking over the monitors keeping track of his vitals, the nurse pats at his foot and takes her leave. Myra had shut up around the time the nurse was telling Eddie about his prognosis, and she’s still silent now. The silence feels heavy in the still room, both of them aware that Myra has just been caught in a lie.

Eddie knows, even before he opens his mouth, what’s coming next.

“Myra,” he starts, doing his level best to keep his voice steady.

“Oh Eddie bear, I’m so sorry!” Myra immediately wails, bursting into more fake tears. She shoves her face into her hands, and blubbers there. “I just — I just — he’s such a horrid man. He’s been horrible to me, Eddie bear!” she cries, her shoulders shaking, hiccuping around the words, and Eddie hates her. He hates her with every fiber of his being, because he knows that she’s lying, and he knows that she isn’t really crying, and he just wants her to leave so fucking bad.

“Myra,” he says again, interrupting her. Myra wails harder, as if she can drown out the sound of Eddie’s voice if she’s just loud enough. “Myra, listen to me,” he urges, his voice raspy and hoarse from the weeks of disuse. He can feel himself growing angrier and angrier with her until finally, he shouts as loud as he can “Goddamn it Myra! Shut up!”

Immediately Myra goes silent. She draws her face away from her hands and stares at Eddie in such stunned disbelief that he remembers the same moment he’d stood up to his mom a million years ago. She’d looked just as shocked as Myra does now.

Her eyes are red, and there are actual tears on her face, but Eddie isn’t falling for it this time. He can see right through it now, and he’s sick of it. He’s sick of being told that he’s weak, and that he can’t take care of himself, and that there’s something wrong with him, because there isn’t.

There isn’t.

He and his friends killed a supernatural space clown recently. Eddie is far from weak.

“Myra, go home,” Eddie says, and rolls his head away from her so that he doesn’t have to look at her anymore.

Myra makes a squawking noise. “What? Eddie bear, what are you saying?” she asks, her voice high pitched and strained.

“I want you to go home, Myra,” Eddie repeats, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of some of the raspiness there. It doesn’t help. “I don’t want you here,” he insists, glaring at the ceiling.

From his peripheral, Eddie sees Myra shaking her head. There’s a little disbelieving smile on her face as she reaches out to take Eddie’s hand again. Eddie snatches it away from her.

“Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re sick, and I need to take care of you, now,” she explains patiently, as if Eddie really does have brain damage. “I can’t leave you. I’m your wife.”

The very concept burns deep in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, and he spits “I want a divorce,” at her with as much vitriol as he can manage.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she shouts, appalled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You hit your head when that house collapsed, and now you’ve lost your mind!” she contends, beginning to cry again, big heaving sounds in the small hospital room. “I cuh-cuh-can’t leave you like this!” she wails, begging, “Please don’t make me go, Eddie bear!”

Myra throws herself at Eddie, as dramatic as possible even now, and clings to his arm. Disturbed, Eddie fights against her, straining his body and crying out in pain with each jerky movement. “Myra, get off me!” Eddie yells at her, “You’re hurting me!” he objects, gasping when he pulls too hard to the right and feels his body scream in protest at him.

Immediately, Myra releases him, looking miffed.

“Eddie bear, you’re hurting me,” she whines, and takes his hand roughly in hers again. Eddie doesn’t manage to dodge the touch this time, but he does reach over the side of his bed and slam his fingers into the call button again, still wrestling against his wife.

Myra gasps. “Eddie!” she cries, “What in the world are you doing? Why are you acting like this?” she whines, finally releasing Eddie as the same nurse from before turns the corner into Eddie’s room.

Before Eddie can so much as open his mouth, Myra demands, “Nurse —” and then cuts herself off without completing the title, as if she’d never gotten around to remembering the nurse’s name. She seems to shake it off quickly enough, as flippant as she’s always been with people whose jobs she thinks are beneath her notice. “My husband has clearly lost his mind,” she alleges angrily. “I think he needs to be put back to sleep until he calms down. He’s speaking absolute gibberish, and I implore you not to listen to a thing he says!” she demands very seriously, crossing her arms over her chest with her left hand facing outward, her wedding ring glistening under the fluorescent lights — some kind of poignant gesture meant to intimidate.

The nurse stares at her for a long moment, her mouth turned down into a deep frown. Something about her expression suggests that Myra has been making impossible demands of her for weeks, and she looks just about fed up with it. She turns her gaze onto Eddie and asks him, “What’s going on here, Mr. Kaspbrak? Are you alright?” she asks seriously.

“No, I am not alright,” Eddie explains hoarsely, clearing his throat ineffectually again. He can feel his head spinning now with the impossible flurry of activity he’s been putting his poor body through in the last few minutes. “My wife refuses to leave. I don’t want her here,” Eddie says clearly, staring the nurse down and begging her to listen to him.

The nurse considers him carefully for a long moment, before turning to Myra. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” she starts, only for Myra to start screaming over her.

“You can’t make me go, I am his wife!” she screeches. “I am his primary caregiver, and you have to listen to me!” Myra insists, standing and stomping her foot against the ground.

The nurse glares at her, arms crossed over her chest. “Ma’am, you are disturbing my patient,” she starts, only for Myra to scream, “He’s my husband, and he is in a very fragile state of mind right now!”

The nurse argues back, “Your husband seems to be in complete control of his faculties, and until the doctor has assessed him fully and decided whether or not he needs someone else to make his decisions for him, it is my job to comply with any reasonable requests he may have!”

Myra stomps her foot again, and goes red in the face.

“He’s just woken up from a coma!” she bellows, “He needs me!”

“He needs medical treatment, ma’am,” the nurse shoots back, and points to the door. “And you are impeding his healing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Do not make me call hospital security,” she declares darkly, and stares Myra down.

Myra’s lip wobbles. Her hands clench into fists at her side, over and over and over again, until she finally slumps, defeated. Her eyes are a storm of anger when she turns to grab her things, her movements hostile. She doesn’t touch Eddie again, but her gaze says we’ll talk about this later.

Eddie doesn’t care, as long as she’s out of his room. His hands are shaking, and it takes him a long moment to realize that his heart rate has spiked as well. His breathing is a little uneven, something that seems to concern his nurse, because the moment that Myra has left the room, she’s at his side and coaxing him through a few breathing exercises.

Eddie’s just stood up to his wife for the first time in eight years, and through the foggy haze of pain, he feels nothing but relief.

The nurse fiddles with Eddie’s IV for a moment, and then pats at his hand soothingly. “We won’t let her back into your room until you give the say so, okay Mr. Kaspbrak? It’s going to be okay,” she says with a soft smile.

Eddie stares at her a little foggily. His limbs are beginning to feel lighter, his heart rate returning to normal, and some of the pain begins to seep out of him.

The nurse must have given him more pain medication.

Unable to process words at the moment, Eddie just nods his head gratefully at her.

She leaves after another moment of fussing, and Eddie feels his eyes start to slip closed. He doesn’t know how long he’s actually been awake, or how long he’d fought with Myra, but he does know that he feels suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, not before he sees Richie, but he’s not so sure he has much of a choice anymore...

There’s a knock on his door. Eddie snuffles at the sound, and opens bleary eyes, realizing after a moment that he had, indeed, drifted off. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it of the fog there, and blinks at his doorway a few times, willing it to come into focus.

When it finally does, Eddie feels his heart jump in his chest.

Richie.

He smiles automatically, soft and bleary-eyed, as he takes in Richie’s face.

He looks the same as he had earlier, when Eddie had asked to see how the Losers were right now — scruffy, tired, and all bundled up in Eddie’s jacket. He looks warm and soft, and Eddie wishes he could hug him.

Richie, on the other hand, looks a little bit like he’s in shock, his lips twitching uncertainty, and his eyes wet with tears. He isn’t crying yet, but it seems like he might start any second. Eddie wishes he could stop making Richie cry.

“Rich,” he whispers, his voice somehow even more hoarse than when he’d first woken up.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie replies, his voice cracking a little. His lips are trembling even as he breaks out into a smile, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Richie lets out a soft huff of a laugh, and then sniffles quietly. “Heard you were asking for me,” he says, his voice teasing, eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, asshole,” Eddie croaks with a fond laugh, and tilts his head in Richie’s direction so it’s easier to see him. “I missed looking at your stupid face,” he teases back, grinning softly.

Richie laughs too, his grin growing bigger as he steps into the room. He’s staring a little dopily at Eddie as he says, “Missed seeing yours too.” His lips wobble a little, and he swallows thickly, staring a little stupidly at Eddie. Then he breaks out in another laugh and says, “Glad to see you're awake.”

His eyes are blazing with something Eddie’s fuzzy brain struggles to pick out, but it makes him feel warm all over and reminds him of why he wanted to see Richie in the first place. He opens his mouth to bring it up, but Richie starts talking before he can.

“Where’s the missus?” he asks, dragging his gaze away from Eddie and frowning at the other side of the bed. His voice is more stilted than before as he makes his way to what Eddie now considers Richie’s side of the bed.

Right. Myra. Eddie sighs, and feels his shoulders relax a little with the knowledge that she’s not here. “Myra’s gone. I sent her home,” he explains, his voice coming out sort of raw and a little bit dazed, because there’s a part of him that still can’t believe what he’s done. Richie seems just as surprised, because the moment the words leave Eddie’s mouth, Richie is reeling back from him in shock.

“You what?” he asks, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Eddie, you just woke up and you’ve already kicked your wife out?” he jokes, though his tone is more unsure than anything else, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He still manages to laugh, clearly unable to help himself as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie nods his head, not quite able to muster up any laughter of his own. “I also asked for a divorce,” he adds, sounding almost astounded at himself. He’d done that, hadn’t he? He’d really done that. Eddie goes to smile at Richie, ultimately proud of himself for standing up to his wife, but Richie isn’t smiling back. In fact, he’s stopped laughing entirely, and he’s looking at Eddie with a half concerned, half assessing glance. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that, so he frowns. “Is that really such a surprise?” he asks warily.

Slowly, Richie nods his head. “Yeah, it kinda is Eds,” Richie admits, his voice a low murmur. His face is doing something weird that Eddie can’t figure out, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to cry anymore. Instead he looks… something. It’s difficult to tell with his mind so addled with the drugs, but he forgets to be confused about it when Richie settles down in his usual chair and reaches for Eddie’s hand automatically, holding it gently.

Oh, Eddie thinks to himself, and smiles. He grips Richie’s hand back and squeezes tightly, feeling reassured that Richie is here.

Surprised, Richie startles a little and looks down at their hands. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, all of the tension seems to have drained out of Richie’s face, and his cheeks seem slightly flushed, like he’s been caught out. Eddie can’t stop looking at him and the way his entire demeanor seems to have softened. He’s staring at Eddie with this look in his eyes that feels so fucking familiar, and his lips are twisted up like he’s trying not to smile but he’s smiling anyway, and —

Eddie knows that look. He’s seen it a thousand times since they were kids.

For the first time, he understands what it means.

Eddie thinks he’s always understood, on some level, but after watching Richie sit as his beside for two months, after hearing him cry over Eddie’s broken body, there’s really no room to ignore it anymore.

Eddie takes a deep breath to settle himself, and squeezes Richie’s hand again.

“Richie,” Eddie murmurs, peering up at him ardently.

“Yeah, Eds?” Richie hums, still looking at him like Eddie is his whole world. Eddie shivers and doesn’t hesitate.

“You told me if I wake up,” he rasps, watching as Richie’s eyes slowly widen in shock, “You’d tell me something,” he continues, and squeezes Richie’s fingers hard.

“You —” Richie starts, shaking his head in disbelief. “I —” he tries again, and stops. “Eds?” he asks finally, voice having gone a little breathless. Eddie can’t tell if Richie is terrified, or just confused, but he definitely looks stunned.

“What did you want to tell me, Rich?” Eddie urges, heart beating harder with every second that passes. Richie seems to notice it too, because he glances behind him to the heart monitor and then back at Eddie with wide eyes.

He’s trying to figure out how Eddie knows what he said, Eddie’s certain of it, but there’s no way Richie will be able to put it together, not without Eddie explaining it to him.

He will. He’ll tell Richie all about it later, but for right now, he just wants to hear Richie say it.

“Richie?” Eddie asks, prompting him gently.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie whispers, shaking his head. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again, he looks nervous. He starts to rub his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand, before clearing his throat. “I, uhm,” he starts, tripping over the words already. He huffs out a laugh, and shakes his head. “Of all the dumb things I said to you while you were —” Richie stutters to a stop, avoids the words in a coma entirely, and continues, “that’s the thing you heard?” His grin is shaky as he stares at Eddie.

Eddie grins a little stupidly, and nods his head.

“Well I did promise,” Richie mutters to himself, and stares down at Eddie’s hand. His fingers squeeze reflexively around Eddie’s and then relax again, but Richie doesn’t say anything else. He just stares at Eddie’s hand in his until Eddie can’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” Eddie blurts out around the lump in his throat, and stares up at Richie breathlessly.

Richie’s gaze snaps back up to his, his eyes wide and a little disbelieving. “God, Eds,” he gasps, sounding absolutely stunned, and suddenly his eyes are wet again. “I love you, too,” he manages in a strained voice, and brings the back of Eddie’s hand up to his mouth to press a kiss there. His lips are trembling as he drags Eddie’s hand up even further to hide his face, and he sniffles quietly, exhaling shakily, like he really can’t believe this is happening right now.

Eddie can’t believe it either, and he lets out a giddy little laugh as he says, “That’s good,” a little fuzzily. “Because I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t said it back,” he teases quietly, laughing again. Richie laughs too, the sound a little sniffly as he starts to cry for real, the feeling of warm tears starting to drip against Eddie’s hand.

Normally, he’d be grossed out about it, but this is Richie he’s talking about, and he’d put up with anything just for Richie not to let go of him again.

“Yeah, it’s not like you can run away right now,” Richie attempts to tease back, but his voice is hoarse and he has to clear his throat three times to get the words out around what seems to be a lump in his throat.

If he could, Eddie would shuffle closer to Richie, but whatever medication they’re pumping through him, Eddie can hardly feel his own body anymore.

“Eds?” Richie asks abruptly, finally lowering Eddie’s hand from his face. He places both their hands down gently on the bed, still holding on tight, and leans in close like there’s something he wants to say. Eddie smiles dopily up at him, waiting, and Richie laughs. “Oh my god, look at you,” he mutters to himself, and reaches up to cup Eddie’s face tenderly in the palm of his hand. Eddie nuzzles against it a little.

“Nevermind,” Richie finally says, shaking his head indulgently at Eddie, “You should sleep,” he suggests sweetly, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” Richie adds in a reassuring tone.

“Promise?” Eddie croaks out, trying not to whine.

“I promise, Eds,” Richie whispers lovingly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods his head approvingly, still staring up a little dreamily at Richie. He knows Richie is right, he probably should sleep, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Richie yet. He never wants to stop looking at Richie, has never wanted to stop looking at Richie — not from the moment Eddie met him. And now he doesn’t have to.

Which reminds him.

“Rich?” Eddie asks, blinking in an attempt to focus. His brain feels all foggy, and it’s beginning to grow really difficult to concentrate.

“Hmm?” Richie replies when Eddie doesn’t immediately continue, reminding Eddie that he’s trying to tell Richie something.

“L.A.,” Eddie breathes, shaking his head to clear some of the fog, “Need an apartment in L.A.,” he elaborates as best he can, trying to articulate the I’m never leaving you again that he’s too tired to verbalize.

Richie is silent for a long time, and then he says, “You’re coming to L.A.?”

Eddie smiles, and lets out a huff of a breath. “Yeah, asshole,” he mumbles, trying and failing to concentrate long enough to have this conversation. He blinks his eyes at Richie in an attempt to look at him, and watches as Richie’s face splits open into a grin. His eyes are fond as he cards back some of Eddie’s hair from his face.

“Yeah?” Richie teases him, eyes glittering, “What for?”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes so badly, but he doesn’t know if he manages it. “For you, fucknuts,” he says, aiming for patronizing and landing more on affectionate. Richie laughs at him, but it’s fond.

“So you wanna go apartment hunting, then?” Richie asks him in a tone that Eddie would normally consider teasing, except he can’t figure out what he’s being teased about. Frowning, Eddie nods his head. “I know a place,” Richie assures him with a laugh, “But there’s just one catch,” he explains.

Even more confused now, Eddie asks, “What?”

“It’s actually a house, and I’m already living in it,” Richie replies proudly.

Eddie blinks a couple of times in confusion, trying to piece together what Richie’s getting at, and then snorts inelegantly. “Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie gripes at him, but he’s grinning as he lets his eyes slip closed, finally feeling like he can sleep peacefully now that everything important is settled.

Richie is still laughing at him when Eddie feels the medication starting to pull him under. He’s just giving in to it when Richie boops his nose and asks him, “You good with that, Eds?” in a tone so full of confidence that Eddie wants to smack him.

Instead, Eddie fights to open his eyes and fixes Richie with a look that he hopes is at least a little bit alluring. “‘Course, Rich,” he mumbles sleepily, the words almost a slur as he offers Richie a smile. “It’s got you,” he breathes affectionately, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

Instead he says, “‘Course, Rich,” as sweetly as he can manage, peering up at Richie enticingly. “It’s got you,” he murmurs coyly, and laughs when Richie immediately turns bright red.

**

6 months later

It takes a month after Eddie moves into Richie’s house in L.A. for the Losers to make arrangements for them all to come out and visit them on a Friday and stay for the weekend. Eddie knows they would have come sooner, but between Eddie getting settled in, Mike’s tour of the United States, and Bev’s divorce and subsequent re-settling of her company, it’s been a bit difficult planning a time that works for all six of them.

Unfortunately for Eddie, the Losers are set to arrive within an hour of his last physical therapy appointment for the week, and while Eddie had wanted to reschedule it, Richie had been quick to put his foot down. He’d made the point that Eddie’s physical therapy appointments were more important than looking nice for their friends, and while Eddie knew Richie was right, that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He’s been in physical therapy for nearly six months now, something the doctors had started about a week after Eddie had woken up. As it turns out, Myra hadn’t been lying when she’d told Eddie the doctors weren’t sure he’d ever walk again, but he’s been making some pretty significant progress. In fact, he’s able to rely on his cane rather than his wheelchair for longer and longer periods of time now, and while the doctors say he’ll probably need some level of support from his cane for the rest of his life, Eddie is at the very least excited to have a sense of independence again.

Eddie knows it’s his hard work that’s gotten him this far, but he’s thankful for Richie’s voice of reason on days when Eddie can’t work up the energy to fight against his own limitations, and he’s glad to have Richie around to remind him just how important his physical therapy is, even if it does suck.

So now, he's in their bedroom attempting to quickly get changed out of his physical therapy clothes and into a nice pair of jeans and a collared shirt that Richie had laid out for him.

“Bill just texted me!” Richie shouts down the hall, his voice muffled through the walls but steadily moving closer as he continues, “He just caught a cab. He said he’ll be here in about twenty minutes!”

“Sounds good!” Eddie huffs back, finally managing to kick himself out of his sweatpants. His legs are still sort of shaking from the last hour of his workout routine, because his therapist has really started pushing him thanks to all the progress Eddie has made. Unfortunately, it also means that Eddie tends to come home extremely exhausted.

He’s just managed to grab his jeans when Richie turns the corner into their room with a huge smile on his face. He doesn’t offer to help Eddie get dressed, which Eddie is grateful for — sometimes he just wants to do things on his own, even though he knows Richie would jump at the chance to help him if Eddie so much as asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, arching a brow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the living room?” Eddie grunts at him as he shoves his trembling legs into his jeans and begins to pull them up.

“All done,” Richie says with a shrug, nodding his head back towards the front living room. “I’ve vacuumed, taken out the trash, and cleaned up all the shit that should have been in the office,” he explains proudly.

“Thanks, Rich,” Eddie grunts, exhaling sharply as his legs spasm painfully and he’s forced to relax his body onto the bed. He’s got the jeans up to his thighs now, bunched just under his ass, and he’s temporarily given up. He knows he’s going to have to use his aching abs to lift his ass off the bed to get the jeans the rest of the way on, and he just isn’t ready to put in that energy right now. “What about the guest room?” he asks, turning his full attention onto Richie.

Richie nods his head immediately. “It’s all set for Ben and Bev. Brand new sheets and everything,” he reassures Eddie, leaning in the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a challenging look on his face. Eddie narrows his eyes at him.

“And the air mattress?” he asks.

“Sitting in the office ready to be blown up before bedtime. And,” he exclaims brightly, waggling his eyebrows, “I’ve even set out pillows and blankets for both the air mattress and the pull-out. Sexy, right?” Richie teases.

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes fondly, but it really is kind of sexy that Richie had thought ahead about all of this before Eddie could even ask him to do it. It’s just that they don’t have a lot of room to host their friends and they’re working with what they have. Richie’s place isn’t the largest of their friends’ houses by a long shot, and definitely isn’t the first place any of them would have picked to have a group sleepover, but Eddie’s still recovering and not really up for traveling, so all of their friends have graciously agreed to come to L.A. for the weekend.

“What about the others?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder at the clock on their bedside table. “When are they expecting to arrive?”

Richie hums and pulls out his phone to check his messages. His hair hangs cutely in his face, and if he were closer, Eddie would push it back with his fingers and comb through it. “Mike said he just got off the 90 freeway, so he’ll probably arrive about the same time as Bill, and Bev said she and Ben will be here in five minutes about… three minutes ago!” Richie replies cheerfully, grinning like a cheshire cat when he meets Eddie’s gaze.

“What the fuck, Richie?” Eddie chastises him, suddenly finding the burst of adrenaline needed to yank his pants up over his ass. He manages to balance himself on the balls of his feet in an attempt not to strain his abs too much, and gets his jeans all the way on, all while Richie laughs at him. “Why didn’t you warn me!?” Eddie yells at him breathlessly, sitting back down on the bed, red in the face. He thinks he can feel a cramp forming in his right calf, and decides that tonight is definitely a wheelchair kind of a night.

“Relax, Spagheads,” Richie shushes him, still chuckling lightly. His eyes are shining brightly as he pushes off the doorway to meet Eddie on the bed. He settles in close until he’s standing between Eddie’s legs, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie cranes his neck back to stare at him. “You know they wouldn’t care if you’d stayed in your sweatpants and workout shirt, right?” Richie asks him softly, head tilted in a way that Eddie refuses to think of as cute.

Grumbling, Eddie shrugs his shoulders and says, “Yeah, but the last time any of them saw me, I was still in the hospital wearing that stupid plastic gown.”

The rest of the Losers had been quick to come back and visit Eddie after he’d woken up, and they’d kept up the visits the entire five months he’d been stuck in Derry, though he wasn’t great company and they couldn’t stay long. It had still been nice.

“I’m sure they’re going to miss that sexy sight,” Richie quips back, winking playfully at Eddie and reminding him rather abruptly about the way Richie used to stare at his ass through the stupid open back of the gown.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie complains, reaching out to swat ineffectually at his chest. Richie might have enjoyed the view, but Eddie’s pretty certain nobody else had.

Richie laughs, and before Eddie can land a strike, Richie catches Eddie’s wrist and leans in to kiss him.

It’s a quick kiss, more of a peck than anything else, and it leaves Eddie dissatisfied. He immediately pouts at Richie and tugs on his wrist in an attempt to pull Richie back in.

“So needy,” Richie teases, though he goes willingly. Eddie growls at him but chooses not to reply, instead drawing Richie in to press their lips back together again. He nips playfully at Richie’s bottom lip and sighs, tilting his head just so to deepen the kiss.

Eddie hasn’t let Richie get away with a peck like that since the first few weeks of their relationship when Richie seemed too terrified to do anymore, and now Eddie takes every chance he can get to deepen their kisses.

Richie pretends to hate it, but the secretive smile he walks away with every time isn’t nearly as secretive as he thinks it is.

“Come on, grumpy pants,” Richie says as he pulls away, the soft suction of their lips parting making Eddie shiver. “I think I just heard Ben and Bev pull up.”

Eddie frowns, but lets go of Richie. “I’ll never understand how you can hear shit all the way outside from here,” Eddie mutters and pushes himself to his feet.

“It’s because I’m blind, Eds,” Richie replies cheerfully, offering Eddie his hand wordlessly. Eddie takes it, but only because his legs are still shaking. “The rest of my senses have to work double time to make up for it.”

“You’re not blind, Rich, what the fuck,” Eddie mutters back, taking three shaky steps over to where he’d left his wheelchair next to the bed. He collapses into it gratefully and releases Richie’s hand. “And that’s not how it works,” he adds matter-of-factly.

“I might as well be,” Richie shoots back just as the doorbell rings. He drops one last kiss onto Eddie’s lips as Eddie gets himself settled in his wheelchair, and then turns to answer the door. Eddie watches him go with a small smile on his face, so fucking thankful that he gets to have this.

After everything he’s been through, he feels like he deserves at least this much.

It seems to take no time at all for the rest of their friends to arrive once Richie has let Ben and Bev in, and then they’re all squeezing in around Richie’s dining table. Richie ordered take-out — not Chinese — and filled up everyone’s glasses with the fancy wine from his wine cabinet. Eddie isn’t partaking because he’s still on a couple of medications and despite Richie reassuring him one glass of wine isn’t going to hurt him, Eddie isn’t willing to risk it.

Conversation starts out light that night, the focus more on how Eddie is settling in than his actual recovery, and Bev takes it upon herself to tease Richie mercilessly.

“Married life really suits you, Trashmouth,” she jokes, nudging him in the shoulder with her own, and subsequently knocking Richie’s body into Eddie’s. Eddie turns to glare at her balefully for it, but his lips are twitching uncontrollably at her tone of voice. “I didn’t know you could be so domestic. You’re quite the little housewife,” she teases him, gesturing broadly around the kitchen, and then nudging her chin out towards the living room. “I honestly assumed you must live in a pigsty, but Eddie has done a great job whipping you into shape.”

Richie gasps mock-offendedly, and says, “Why I never!” in a southern drawl, pitching his voice up high. “I don’t know what you are trying to insinuate,” he says primly, “But I assure you that I am a proper lady, and I don’t need no man to tell me how to behave!”

Eddie dissolves into giggles at the voice, leaning into Richie’s side and soaking in his warmth as the rest of them start to laugh too. Bill sounds as if he’s dying he’s laughing so hard, and Bev is giggling into Ben’s shoulder, her eyes wet with tears. Richie throws his arm over Eddie’s shoulders, and drags him in even closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Eddie tries to roll his eyes at the casual affection, aware that Mike is staring straight at him, but he can’t muster up any real annoyance and recognizes that the expression falls flat. With the way that Mike smiles at him, Eddie knows that he isn’t fooling anyone.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute,” Bev coos once she’s gotten herself back under control, and she props her chin in her hand to stare happily at them. Eddie immediately turns bright red and frowns at her.

“Not cute,” he mutters at the same time as Richie says, “Cute, cute, cute!” and pinches Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie turns and knocks Richie’s hand away from his face, and then shoves his wrist down onto the table. Richie is laughing even as he moans “ow, ow, ow, ow, Eddie!” but Eddie doesn’t let him go.

“You know I hate it when you do that!” Eddie whines, carefully avoiding looking at their friends. He can already imagine the looks on their faces, and Eddie is embarrassed, dammit! It’s bad enough when Richie calls him cute when they’re by themselves and Eddie can’t hide the way it makes him feel — it’s even worse to have their friends witness the way it makes Eddie absolutely melt for Richie.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Ben jokes, staring meaningfully at the way Eddie is still holding down Richie’s hand.

“Believe me, it’s a close call at least three times a day,” Eddie replies dryly, finally releasing him. Richie draws his hand up to his chest to cradle it gently, making exaggerated wounded eyes at Eddie that Eddie ignores.

“Eddie,” Richie whines, pouting at him, “You’re so mean to me,” he complains, knocking their shoulders together again. Rolling his eyes, Eddie leans in and smacks a quick kiss against Richie’s cheek until Richie wilts into him, smiling like an idiot.

Bev coos again, and Bill makes a retching sound. Eddie does his best to ignore them and grabs his water to sip at it, hiding his blush against the glass.

“Stan would hate you guys so much,” Mike laughs, shaking his head at the two of them, his voice only a little bit forced. He swallows thickly as he meets everyone else’s gazes, and says, “He’d say you’re disgusting, but we all know he’d really mean ‘I love you,’” Mike adds affectionately.

It takes a beat, but the rest of them laugh quietly as well, if a little solemnly, and glance at the empty table setting Richie had put out. He’d said they couldn’t have a proper Losers club meeting without Stan, and despite the way it had made Eddie feel at the time to see Richie preparing a seat that wouldn’t be filled, he’s grateful for it now. Eddie reaches over and squeezes Richie’s thigh, resting his hand there gently.

“I miss him,” Ben whispers softly, offering everyone a small smile.

“We all do,” Bill agrees quietly. They all quiet down for a moment, just soaking in the moment, thinking of Stan, before Bill finally clears his throat. Slowly, he raises his glass of wine into the air and says, “To Stan!”

“To Stan!” the rest of them say in unison, lifting their glasses in his honor.

After a long swallow, they each place their glasses back down onto the table, and smile at each other. Richie reaches down to squeeze Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie smiles up at him.

“So,” Ben starts, the first to interrupt the silence, “How are you doing, Eddie? Are you settling in okay?” he asks, waving his fork around in the air at them. The others nod their head in unison, repeating Ben’s question in one form or another:

“Richie better be treating you well,” says Bill.

“Are you sleeping alright?” asks Bev.

“How’s California treating you?” asks Mike.

Eddie smiles up at his friends and nods his head. “I’m good,” he replies, “I’m really good. California is… exactly what I needed,” he hedges, and, avoiding Richie’s eye, adds, “So is Richie.”

Eddie can feel it when Richie turns to look at him, and he doesn’t have to see Richie’s face to know what it’s doing — Richie has this way of looking at Eddie like he’s still in awe that he gets to have this, and Eddie doesn’t know what do with himself everytime he sees it. It’s an overwhelming feeling for both of them.

“Aww baby,” Richie murmurs, leaning in close to press a kiss to his cheek. He’s smiling, and it makes him smile too. “I knew you loved me,” Richie continues, and it’s obvious he’s attempting to sound teasing for their friends, but the words come out too sincere for anyone to fall for it.

Eddie’s heart flutters, and he feels his insides go all gooey, but the moment he catches sight of the looks on his friends faces — amused but affectionate — he squirms under the attention.

“Get off me,” Eddie grumbles, shoving at Richie’s chest lightly, his cheeks on fire. Richie doesn’t fight him, just laughs affectionately and pulls away without saying another word.

“I’m so happy for both of you,” Bev says warmly, her eyes shining. “You deserve to be happy,” she continues sincerely, reaching across the table to grasp Eddie’s hand in hers.

“Thanks, Bev,” Eddie manages to croak out in response, a lump in his throat, because while he knows what Bev is saying is true, it’s still difficult for him to internalize sometimes.

It’s Richie who eventually changes the subject, turning to the others and asking them what’s going on with them.

“Well, I’ve got a new contract in Dubai,” Ben tells them, shrugging modestly when the others cheer. “I’ve gotta head out there for a couple of weeks next Friday, so I won’t be around much, but…” he trails off, looks at Beverly softly, and reaches out to grasp tightly to her hand, like he doesn't want to leave her.

“But he’ll have cell reception, so don’t be afraid to harass him,” Beverly teases, gripping Ben back just as tightly.

Mike tells them about his tour of the United States, and how he’s been interviewing the locals everywhere he goes. He admits that he’s heard all kinds of amazing stories, and explains that he’s been thinking about starting a podcast.

“I just think that more people deserve to hear these stories,” Mike pitches hopefully, peering around at their friends like he wants their approval. “There’s so much culture out there that we’re missing out on, and I feel like if we just shared more of this stuff, there might not be so much violence in the world,” he continues passionately.

“I think you could really make a difference, man,” Richie says solemnly, and he shares a look with Mike like he understands exactly what it is that Mike is trying to do.

Mike meets his eyes, and nods at him, a silent conversation moving between them that Eddie isn’t privy to.

“And I’m about to launch my new summer line,” Bev announces excitedly, deftly avoiding the topic of the current legal minefield she’d been navigating for months surrounding both her divorce and her company. “All the designs are based on that summer,” she explains simply, obviously referring to the summer of ‘89 when all of this had started, “Because, despite everything, that was the best summer of my life.”

Eddie feels warm all the way down to his toes, because it was the best summer of his life too.

“Each look was inspired by one of you,” Bev admits brightly, and her eyes are sparkling as she looks at all of them, “and I fully plan on sending each of you your own special outfit.”

Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to consider what his might be before Bev meets Richie’s eye and winks at him. Eddie immediately lights up bright red, and turns a murderous glare onto Richie.

“I’ve got this really cute pair of little red shorts that I think will look amazing on you, Eds,” Bev teases all too knowingly.

“Richie,” Eddie hisses, but Richie isn’t looking at him. He’s an entirely darker shade of red than Eddie is — even brighter than those damn shorts were — and he doesn’t seem capable of meeting anyone’s gazes.

Eddie knows what Richie thought about those shorts — he’d admitted to Eddie that they’d kind of been Richie’s sexual awakening, and Eddie can’t even begin to imagine why he might have shared that information with Beverley, but he kind of wants to kill him for it.

It seems like all the rest of their friends seem to know as well, because as Eddie goes to kick Richie under the chair, the rest of their friends burst into amused laughter. Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and before he can launch into an argument with Richie over it, Richie cuts him off to pointedly, and very loudly, ask Bill, “So I heard you were offered another movie deal?”

Eddie slumps back in his seat, defeated. He’ll let Richie get away with it, for now at least. He makes no promises to himself about not bringing it up again when they go to bed.

“Oh, yeah!” Bill exclaims, as if he’d forgotten all about it. He composes himself quickly, red in the face from all of his laughing, and says, “That reminds me. The casting director asked me to let him know if I had any names in mind for any of the characters, and, well, if you’d be interested Rich…” Bill offers, trailing off and staring at Richie in question.

Completely distracted from his previous anger, Eddie looks at Richie with wide eyes, waiting for his answer, but Richie seems appropriately stunned. He stares at Bill blankly for a long moment, before bursting into a bright grin. “What, you want this ol’ mug to star in one of your movies, Bill?” Richie teases loudly, putting on a show. “You must really be desperate if you’re asking me,” he jokes, avoiding the question entirely with a self-deprecating joke. It’s obvious enough to all of them that Richie is deflecting, and the slight hysteria to Richie’s voice is answer enough for Bill, who merely grins at him.

“You can come down to the office with me on Monday, we can talk about it then,” he replies easily, turning away from Richie and changing the subject to the actual script for The Glowing and how he’s already thinking about a new ending for the movie.

Eddie reaches over to squeeze Richie’s fingers between his, but doesn’t say a word. He’s just thankful to Bill for the offer, because in the last few months, Richie’s been doing a lot of voice acting gigs, and has admitted to wanting to try his hand at acting. Eddie doesn’t know if Bill knows that, but even if he didn’t, the offer means a lot to both of them.

The conversation continues jovially, with Richie mocking Bill for his terrible endings, and Ben piping in with suggestions for the set. Eddie sits back quietly and watches, sipping at his glass of water. He takes a moment, when the others are distracted, to check in with himself the way his new therapist has been pushing him to do over the past few weeks.

He feels good, content to have all of his friends here surrounding him. It’s something he’d nearly given up in that weird, liminal space he’d inhabited while he was in a coma, and he’s so fucking glad that he chose to live, because he’s never been happier.

[ephemeral-sorrow]

The Sweetness of Frenemic Love

Sometimes the strangest thoughts enter my head and make me write something bizarre but really touching at the same time. :D

pairing: Lilly x Male!MC

summary: It`s one step from hatred to love.

warning: a bunch of fluff  ;)

Have you ever experienced resentment towards someone you`ve never met in real life? 

Felt irritation and anger bubble up inside your head like lava slowly filling the volcano to the brim, almost turning your eyes into two sizzling hot coals? 

Lilly had been familiar with these disgusting sensations even before she got to knew MC - the obnoxious stranger Hannah sent her number to and the one who managed to infiltrate their group and spread insurgency among everyone and everything around. Her sister`s disappearance ruined their peaceful lives, putting Lilly and her parents into huge stress, when each day with news even more horrible than on previous one, took away all their hope. So, to conclude it all, a completely unknown weirdo, who gained access to different sorts of information as well as trust of her blindly oblivious friends, now was sticking his nose into other people`s business without pangs of conscience.

The way things were progressing kept Lilly infuriated and incredibly... depressed. She refused to admit that to herself, but she was even angrier because of her own helplessness. She wanted to do something useful and finally get a clue that might come in handy or at least set things up so that the investigation would be faster and more efficient. However, guys from the group already had their own theories, sources and clues, took part in various events and furthermore, acted carelessly, not paying attention to threats.  ... They made it clear that Lilly`s advice was pointless, just like her participation.

That`s why the mere thought of some stranger doing more for Hannah than her family made something snap inside, clouding Lilly`s judgement and true character with boundless spite. Not to mention, pure fear engulfed her at the suggestion that MC may be the real culprit, and here, cards played so flawlessly right into his hands...

                                                       *     *     *

Now it was a completely different story, and it was kind of hard to believe that was how she used to think of him only a year ago. A lot happened, making those restless days seem like a distant memory or rather a thrilling movie, characters of which were another people, portrayed in another places and time.

“So, what do you make of my new car?”

Lilly blinked, snapping out of her flooding thoughts and returned her attention to the cup of chocolate icecream with gente, pink frosting before her -  and finally, stared at the rest of the group, that made themselves comfortable at the cafe table. Today was the celebration on account of Dan`s grandiose purchase - dashing, brand new Audi A3 model. It costed him a fortune but didn`t lessen his enthusiasm nor pride(having exited the hospital as soon as possible, he spent a great deal of effort in finding a good job AND cutting down on alcohol). As a result, every time he ordered apple juice at the Rainbow cafe he declared: “Cool dudes drink only juice!”.

“Dan, that was the hundredth time you`ve asked this question”, despite the fake bored tone, Cleo wore an amused smile, dropping her usual strictness.

“What can I possibly do when all of you are so short-spoken?” Dan dramatically leaned back on the soft cushion. “I need details. Not talking about this pretty girl is a sacrilege”.

“If she was mine, I`d call her ‘babe’ “, ice cubes softly clincked against the glass, as Richy thoughtfully twisted his cocktail in his hand. “And the quiet purrs of her engine are the same as a hearbeat--”

“Now, now, you`re just being ridiculous!” Hannah`s melodic laugh ringed before drowning in the chatter of the crowded cafe. Lilly`s insides warmed up upon seeing her sister smiling sweetly in the Thomas` embrace. She was safe and sound, cheerful and full of love for the surrounding world. Everything was back to normal and it made Lilly genuinely happy--

She felt hot breath pleasantly tickle her ear before a crisp, familiar voice sensually whispered to her:

“I don`t know about others, but if you asked me, the only ‘babe’ I see is you”.

Lilly couldn`t really help the flush that spread on her neck, so she coughed, pretending to be extremely interested in her icecream, which was already starting to melt.

She casted a quick glance at the man beside her, attempting to look unfazed by his sudden compliment only to be met with his mischievous, affectionate eyes.

“MC, we`re... we`re in public”, she whispered back rather shyly.

“You were kind of dreamy while looking at Thomas and Hannah, so I decided to remind you that you didn`t come here alone”.

“Hmph”, Lilly pouted, fixing the fallen lock of her hair. “as if I need your tasteless remarks to cheer up. You should come up with something more original”.

MC laughed airily, flashing his signature confident smirk. Lilly took a small breath, furrowed her delicate brows and turned away stubbornly, turning a deeper shade of red. She didn`t like her heart clenching bittersweetly at his actions, especially in front of her unsuspecting friends. It was difficult to keep a perfectly composed face.

“I`ll cook you Peking meat by my special receipt tonight”, MC continued as if nothing had happened, absentmindedly observing the lively conversation between Jessy, Dan and Thomas, and how Cleo was showing Hannah something on the phone.

“I’ll take it as an invitation to your house?” Lilly inquired. “Why are you so sure I`m going to accept it?”

“Oh please, sweetie, do you want me to list all reasons in front of so many people?” His expression was calm and serious, but Donfort knew better: he was mercilessly teasing her, not caring about precautions at all.

Lilly hit his leg under the table, earning a triumphant ‘ouch’ in response.

                                                     *     *     *

Later that evening at his place, after having had a fair piece of the most delicious meat she has ever eaten, Lilly was helping MC to wash the dishes, drying the shiny plates with a cloth and placing them into the cupboard. He was mumbling a delightful tune under his breath. She glanced at his features. Somehow simply being with this person made her forget about all troubles. But what about him?

“MC”, Lilly tried to sound not too curious. 

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose me of all girls? I mean... I`ve never thought that you might become interested in me after what I did to you a year ago with that video and vote. Like in person, let alone a woman. You`ve been best friends with Jessy from the start, so it would`ve been logical if you two have had a thing”.

“To be honest with you, your brother said the same”, he smiled with the corners of his mouth. “What I found in you”.

“Excuse me, what!?” the girl exploded with outrage, dropping the cloth out of surprise. “Jake, that little jerk!! He`s supposed to back me up in situations like this!”

MC was holding his laughter for his dear life or he would inevitably get a handful but frankly, it was getting harder.

“What did you reply? Come on, I want to know!!” Lilly was worried and frustrated at the same time, looking at him impatiently and expectantly, like a little kid who desired to know their present for birthday.

“You seem so desperate-- HAHAHA, I CAN`T!”

Lilly groaned and threw a sponge at him on full speed, not bothering that it was still wet and full of soap. What was so funny when all she wanted to hear was these important words of confirmation?

MC cleaned his face and came closer.

“I replied that you`re the one who understands me. The one who always makes my day brighter. Also you are kind and candid”, his palm rested against her cheek, tenderly caressing it, as she leaned for his touch.

“I can often be impulsive and sharp”.

“That doesn`t make you worse. You always speak your mind. I think it`s admirable. Not to mention, you are a truly charming and elegant woman”.

She didn`t let MC finish his sentence because their lips collided in a soft, albeit passionate manner. Lilly lived up to her statement - this kiss was spontaneous and full of feeling. She traced his wide shoulders, stopping when her hands found their place in his unruly hair, slightly tugging at it. 

They parted once they ran out of air.

“Jake additionally said my romantic confession would lead to this”.

“Ugh, you`re terrible!!”