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watchoutforthefanfics · 4 months

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I'll follow you (until you love me) || Reddie (It)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: request by @lovingcookiemonsterblog

Summary: When Eddie finally got to be with Richie, he never really thought of what that would mean. Other than waking up with him and dealing with him every day (which he'd say he hated but he actually loved). The harsh reality of Richie being a famous comedian (being recently involved in a scandal and then coming out didn't really make it any better) is overwhelming, especially when he experiences it's fruits for the first time.

TWs: agoraphobia, panic attacks, just general anxiety, crying, disability insecurities, paparazzi (they really should be a trigger warning), mention of vomit, explicit language (its reddie), hurt/comfort, and invasive questions.

[[A/N: We stan a fiercely protective Richie, ESPECIALLY over Eddie. Also yes that is a lyric from the Lady Gaga song, what about it? ALSO, Eddie uses a wheelchair. And I kind of really related to Eddie hardcore in this (I have debilitating anxiety), soooooo... This was wayyyy more indepth than I meant it to be. Whoops. Like this is more generally about fame than anything else, but there is a paparazzi scene. Anyway, thanks for the request and enjoy :))) ]]

If you told a younger Eddie that he'd end up married to a famous comedian and be somewhat in the limelight (living in fucking LA), he'd probably go into cardiac arrest. That being said if you talked to an even younger Eddie, and told him the comedian was one Richie Tozier, it would make complete fucking sense.

Well, not complete sense because he grew up in the 80s, and homophobia felt like it was never going to go away. But in his heart of hearts, he'd know it made sense and it might make his day. (Or year, or maybe fucking life as a ripe fucking 10 year old.)

All that being said, Eddie was married to one Richie Tozier and for the most part, stayed out of the limelight at the extra precaution of Richie. He knew Hollywood was cruel, and he wanted to keep him out of it as much as physically possible. Despite wanting to also shout it from the fucking rooftops that they were together, that Eddie Kaspbrak (Tozier now) loved him. Eddie could fucking relate, every time he saw Richie he could feel his younger self nearly die with how much he just... loved him.

That being said, Richie did talk about him in the public eye.

When he first, too casually Eddie always said, mentioned that he had a husband, the whole fucking world flipped on its head. (As far as he remembers, it was a podcast interview and he told a story about Eddie, generically referring to him as his husband for anonymity's sake.) Even after his coming out tour (which all proceeds went to numerous charities as a part of his apology he released upon coming back from Derry), which was at least a year after his official coming out if Eddie remembered correctly (of course he fucking did), the general public lost their shit. He was still even a big deal now, regarded entirely as a gay icon, and even being on fucking magazine covers for pride month (Eddie had kept a copy of each for more reasons than one).

And not to mention his Twitter.

Richie nearly constantly tweeted about him, using the name Spaghetti (which Eddie fucking hated, mind you).

Richie Tozier ✔️

@/trashmouthtozier

my sweet lil spaghetti has spent a considerable chunk of the day color-coding my socks, what would I do without him

They were all sweet messages at their core but Eddie still sometimes recognized it as the same fuck teasing he'd always done. In which Eddie would either slap him or kiss him senseless (it usually ended up being the latter).

The fucker actually tweeted about him so fucking much that his fans actually loved Eddie, despite only really knowing him as Richie Tozier's husband. Eddie found it endearing but he'd never admit to it. (Richie probably already knew anyway. And he didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Well, except for 4 other someone elses.)

All that to say, Eddie Tozier felt a little like after two years of being Richie's husband that he wanted to be fucking known as his husband. To the whole world. (Okay, so it still scared the shit out of him, but Eddie was kind of sick and tired of the fucking run around).

And he wanted to talk to Richie about it.

"Oh Eddie, baby, won't you come to my arms tonight? I beg and plead you, please succumb to my charms tonight-"

Eddie rolled his eyes.

Richie had a habit of playing that song when he needed him, for whatever stupid reason. (And it was always stupid). Instead of, you know, calling for him or maybe fucking texting him (their 'fuck you I'm rich' house really was big enough that he might not actually hear it).

Even still, Eddie played along. Like he always did.

Sighing, he rolled his wheelchair over to the coffee table, dutifully marking where he was in his book (he'd taken up reading, despite Richie's consistent shitting on it) and placing it on the table. After setting it a little too perfectly on the table, he spun around and made his way to Richie's office. Where he was supposed to be working on a new show (one for Netflix)-

"What, asshat?" Eddie asked from the doorway, Richie promptly turned off the song.

"Eds!" He'd grinned with fond fucking eyes (and it made Eddie's insides tie up in knots like it always did), acting a little like he hadn't expected him to be there. He was a shithead like that sometimes -most of the time, he corrected.

"Don't act fucking oblivious," Eddie chastised, with only a little bite, "-You're supposed to be working. We literally set aside 2 hours a day for this shit, and you can't even do that. But I'm fucking holding you to it, so what do you want?"

"Wow, Spaghetti, a husband-" he placed a hand on his heart -dramatically, "-can't want his husband's presence?"

Richie was kind of obsessed with calling Eddie his husband, if you couldn't tell.

"You literally have my presence every other hour of the day, dipshit."

Despite his words, Eddie rolled further into the office -coming right up beside Richie's desk chair. He was sitting in it so they were right about as level as they could be (with Richie's freakishly tall stature). Richie was still fucking cheesily grinning, Eddie held back the urge to kiss the fucking thing off his face. And instinctively, Richie turned to face him -so close they bumped knees. (Eddie remembered days in the clubhouse when he would think about those kinds of touches for weeks.)

Eddie leveled again, a tinge frustrated, "What?"

Richie wordlessly cupped his face (big ass man hands) and kissed him. The domestic kind that Eddie could barely believe he could get from Richie sometimes. He got as lost in it as he did the first time (he hoped he'd never get fucking used to it), and felt his frustration slip away.

He was always so good at calming Eddie down. It was really fucking frustrating in certain circumstances; now, though, he didn't really mind.

After a breath, they parted -Richie didn't let go of his face though. Blue eyes just looking at him like he couldn't believe he sat right in front of him.

"Don't fucking distract me," Eddie continued, but the bite was long gone, "-what do you want?"

"Just you," Richie answered honestly, still smiling but dropping his hands, "-can you sit in here with me? And like fucking... organize my desk or something? Sort the filing cabinets-"

"We don't have filing cabinets, and I organized your desk like a week ago."

"Fucking sit with me, Eds," Richie whined (not unlike a toddler), before adding, "-preferably in arms reach."

Eddie sighed out a long breath, "Do you still have those contracts for the venues you're preforming at?"

That brought him to now, with his reading glasses (that Richie fucking loved), skimming through a considerably large packet -with a lot more of them beside him on the desk. He sat diagonal to Richie, who was turned toward the computer, and Richie's hand was on his knee -thumb rubbing back and forth.

He was pretty clingy if Eddie cared about shit like that. But he didn't, he actually liked it (if he was completely honest with himself). Always needing to touch him in some way, Eddie thought sometimes it was a residual thing after not being able to for 27 years. Especially when they were always touching as kids.

And Eddie was reading over the contracts because he was Eddie.

"Do you have your own audio equipment?"

Richie pursed his lips, immediately giving Eddie his full attention (like he always does), "I have no fucking clue, Eds. Why?"

"This place in Minnesota is charging you a fee to use their equipment," Eddie mindlessly explained, continuing to skim the paperwork.

Richie laughed a little, "Eddie baby, I don't care about fees."

"Then why am I reading these?" Eddie questioned, dropping the contract onto his lap -a little dramatically.

"Eds," Richie leveled looking at him a little too fondly, "-I told you that you didn't have to do that. That was all you."

"Fuck you," Eddie retorted, "-if you get swindled, it's not my problem."

"Oh, but it is," Richie grinned, "-marriage means shared finances, baby~"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too big to mean it. It made Richie light up, every fucking time he smiled, he had the same reaction-

"Love you, Eds," he chimed, staring like he always was.

Eddie pursed his lips together, maybe trying to hide a smile, "I love you too, asshole."

Richie looked like a fucking little kid on Christmas when he said that. It made Eddie's heart go fucking haywire, it really couldn't be fucking healthy, he was in his 40s. But still, it was Richie. His Richie. They were fucking married. He almost died, and he was in a wheelchair, but Richie did not give a shit and just loved him. He was so fucking lucky to be here, even if he was a dumbass 99% of the time-

"Earth to Spaghetti," Richie interrupted, talking into his hands like he was talking through a walkie or something, "-can you hear me?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, "You better have something better than that in your fucking script or we're losing the house."

Richie burst into laughter at that, throwing his head back (Eddie's favorite kind, if you were wondering). He watched it for a second, before goofily chuckling a little.

And then, he had a thought.

"Hey, Rich?"

Richie turned his attention again, tilting his head at the sudden seriousness. Something in his eyes flashed as worry, Eddie grabbed his hand and squeezed it once, everything's okay. His gaze lightened.

"I want to be like-" Eddie fidgetted with his hands, "-known as your husband. I wanna like go to your shit, and just... I want to be fucking known."

Richie paused a second, "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Eds-"

"I literally read out wedding vows-"

"Still," Richie echoed, smiling too big, "-the world knowing Eddie Kaspbrak is my husband-"

"Tozier," Eddie corrected, and Richie grinned like he'd said it for the first time, "-and I think I'm going to be known as Richie Tozier's husband if anything."

"Fuck that," Richie chimed, "-I'm gonna make sure that I'm fucking known as Eddie Tozier's husband, so help me god. I can see it now, 'Eddie Tozier's husband's Trashmouth Tour'-"

"Oh, fuck you-" Eddie laughed, and shoved into his side.

"-I'll hard launch it on Twitter, put Eddie Tozier's husband in my bio."

"You wouldn't fucking dare," Eddie chastised.

He did dare, in fact.

Eddie had never really expected news articles with his name on it, front and center, but they came in quick. And then, Richie got a fucking daytime television interview to talk about him, of all things.

That's where they were now, Eddie was watching them put makeup on Richie covering up blemishes that he loved, personally. And he almost said something, but it was Hollywood. And Richie knew that he preferred him the way he was. Even in his holey pajama t-shirts, and ruined socks that he wouldn't throw away-

"How do I look, Eds?" Richie chimed, chair spun around to face him.

He was wearing a fucking suit that rivaled the one Eddie forced him to wear on their wedding day (he did let him choose a bowtie though, it was Richie's wedding too). But it was fucking tailored to him, broad fucking shoulders and shit. Eddie was allowed to think his husband was hot, but he wasn't going to say it here.

Tapping the wheels of his chair, he scanned over him.

"Like a painted whore," Eddie commented -plainly.

Richie burst into enough laughter that the hair people had to fix his hair afterward. Eddie was used to death glares, and he gave them right back. Probably the best one, Richie said he really did have the scariest one he'd ever seen.

Eddie simply watched as they did Richie's hair. It was a little longer now, by the grace of god (he was a man in his late 40s after all), and Eddie was used to the mess on the top of his head. But what they were doing with it, wasn't bad. It defined the curls a little more and erased the frizz. Well, actually, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Because the frizz reminded him of his own personal Richie in Derry, sneaking through his window to read comics. That Richie never took care of his hair, but this one didn't look bad. He looked fucking handsome, all pressed suit and perfect hair.

But it had nothing on his Richie.

Literal seconds from airing, Richie scampered over into his chair. Eddie felt a little bad about it, but not enough for it to really matter.

Eddie rolled over to just out of frame, in perfect sight of Richie. He was also in a place where he could peek at the camera, and see how it would look on TV. It was actually pretty cool, and he even got to ask the camerawoman a few questions, which she was stoked to answer. She was friendly, and he was glad. Because being out in public without Richie entirely by his side usually made his skin itch. Or burn. Whichever was worse in the long run. But somebody friendly made him feel better.

"Alright, three, two, one-" somebody called out, and Eddie was struck with the fact that this was live.

"Hello, everyone," the woman (who he couldn't tell you the name of but seemed strangely familiar) cheered, looking at the camera with picture-perfect teeth, "-today, I am joined by one Richie Tozier, an award-winning comedian that you may know from his 'Out of the Closet Extravaganza' Tour, about 3 years ago. Richie, how are you today?"

"I am fantastic, thank you, Eloise," Richie responded -politely. Eddie nearly snorted at him, it was just so not him.

"While I would love to ask you about your tour," she smiled, "-That is not quite why we're here, is it?"

Richie laughed a little (it was only a little genuine, Eddie could tell), and his eyes landed on Eddie for just a second, "It is not."

"About a week ago," she looked down at her card, reading as his Twitter bio flashed up onto the screen behind her, "-you put on your Twitter, Eddie Tozier's husband. And that, set off a media frenzy."

"Oh, yeah, it did," Richie patted his hands along his lap, and the woman, Eloise, laughed.

"Were you not expecting such a reaction?"

"Look, if there's anyone that's a big Eddie Tozier fan, believe me, it's me," Richie grinned, and the woman laughed, "-but, no. I did not expect it to get as big as it did."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Fuck his sweet sentiments-

"You have publically talked about your husband before this though, haven't you?" She questioned, opening the floor.

"Have you seen my Twitter?" He joked, before continuing more seriously, "-I talk about him all the time, and I would do it more, actually, if I could."

Eloise laughed, very practiced (it kind of freaked Eddie out), "On your Twitter, you used the name spaghetti, right? To refer to your husband?"

"Yes," Richie looked at Eddie (who promptly rolled his eyes), it made him smile bigger, "-I did."

"Now, where exactly did that idea come from?"

Good god, Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. Richie laughed at the reaction.

"Well, um," Richie started, excited and it made Eddie smile (despite his best wishes), "-me and Eds, we were actually childhood best friends. We grew up together with some others that I'm still very close to now-"

"Mhm," Eloise hummed, following the conversation.

"-but I used to call him Eddie Spaghetti then, back when we were like... eleven. And it eventually just shortened to spaghetti at some point."

"And you still call him that?" she questioned, with a more genuine smile.

"Oh yeah," Richie laughed, motioning to him -slightly, "-he hates it, you should see him now actually."

"Oh, he's here?" Eloise spoke, spinning to see him. Eddie just politely smiled and waved. She smiled and did the same.

"Of course," Richie breathed out, "-I wouldn't have even gotten here on time if it wasn't for him."

"I see," she laughed, before questioning more (as an interviewer does), "-and you said you were childhood friends? But you haven't been married this whole time, have you?"

"Oh, no," Richie answered, "-we got married right around when the tour started. It was the typical thing, really, uh... high schoolers drifting away for college."

"And you reunited?"

"Yes, about five years ago," Richie explained, a little tightly (Eddie knew why, it was tough to talk about), "-there was this whole, uh, get-together between that friend group I mentioned earlier, and we... we found each other again."

"Was it just a reconnection sort of thing?" She questioned.

"Oh, no, no-" Richie stressed, "-I'd been in love with the guy since I was like... six. It was just the '80s, and I don't know about you but it's tough to risk losing your best friend to something like that."

"Wow," she added, "-so he was your lifelong love. And it just reignited when you met back up?"

"Well," Richie paused, looking at Eddie for a moment -asking, Eddie nodded (he kind of liked the idea of being public about his paralysis, it might help someone else), "-he actually got injured on that trip. Uh, he was paralyzed in both of his legs, and the whole thing just made me... come clean."

"Wow," she repeated, somewhat in disbelief, "-what an inspiring love story, truly. To wait all those years, and find each other again, that's truly amazing."

"I know," Richie turned to the camera, "-There's hope for all you single people out there, I was in my 40s and found him. Stay hopeful."

Eloise laughed, "Before we wrap this up, Richie, is there anything you want to say? Or-" she turned to Eddie, motioning, "-Eddie for that matter."

Eddie blinked, swallowing. What?

Richie nearly immediately caught it (eyes sweeping along his face), like he had some sort of Eddie radar and knew when he was distressed. And he kind of did, actually-

"All I can say is that I love my husband," Richie smiled big, turning the woman's attention back to him like a light switch, "-and to all you Twitter users who think you love him more, I have you topped by probably a million. Maybe more."

Eloise laughed, "Well, 30 years of being in love will do that to you, huh?"

"Yes," Richie nodded, eyes lingering on Eddie, "-it will."

"And that's all for to-"

Eddie blinked, fingers dancing along the armrests of his chair. The stir of anxiety slunk through him, it wasn't a threat anymore, but Eddie couldn't exactly shake it. There were so many cameras, who was to say that they weren't filming him? Him and his cheek scar and his wheelchair-

A noise caught his attention, it was Richie's foot tapping against the floor. His eyes kept darting to Eddie like he could tell what he was feeling, smile painted on. Worried.

Eddie's fingers tightened on the armrests, as he watched people move around the stage -assumedly winding everything down. He kind of wanted to roll backstage, and get out of the way (he felt like he was in everyone's way because of his chair-), but he couldn't leave Richie. Looking at him kept him grounded, Richie was always the solution to this kind of thing. If the breathing techniques that his therapist recommended didn't work, Richie did. And he couldn't even remember those techniques-

"That's a wrap," someone mindlessly shouted, and Eddie's head snapped to it, "-Great job, everybody!"

And then, everybody really started moving.

Eddie hadn't even noticed that there were this many people here. It made his heart pound in his chest, and something lodged in his throat. It had been so long since he was in a crowd. He just felt too big, in this stupid fucking chair, he was constantly in the way-

"Can I get some space over here?" he heard Richie chime, but he couldn't focus, it felt distant.

"Eds, hey," and his head snapped to Richie (voice much closer), who was currently on his knees to match Eddie's eye line.

Eddie's eyes darted behind him, where there was a shuffle of people, "There's so many fucking people, Rich."

Crowds scared him now, because of a slew of different things. The bacteria of each person (there was so much in the air), it could make him sick. And even though he was doing better about that, it still felt a little ingrained into him. And then, there was the clown thing. Eddie knew it was dead, he fucking knew that. But he could be here, he could hide in crowds so easily-

"Hey," Richie's hand guided him back down to his eyeline, "-just look at me, okay? You know how I am without fucking attention-"

Eddie choked out a laugh, and it made Richie smile.

"-so just look at me, okay? It's just me and you."

Eddie nodded, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth. Richie was keeping track of them, he could tell.

"We're the only ones who matter anyway," Richie retorted, and Eddie actually laughed at that one. Richie grinned.

"You're such a dick," Eddie tried to frown (it didn't work).

"Ah, there's my Eds," Richie chimed, looking at him like he was the sun (like he always fucking did), "-same grumpy old man-"

"I'm younger than you, dipshit," Eddie interrupted, shoving at his shoulder (but not really wanting him to move), "-and you're gonna fuck up your suit. Can you imagine how fucking dirty the ground here is-"

"Eddie baby, I could not give less of a fuck about this suit," Richie spoke frankly, "-Are you okay?"

Eddie paused a moment, staring at Richie, he could feel the earth fade back into the picture. The people less scary, and the lights less bright, he sunk slightly into his chair.

"Yeah, Rich, I'm okay," he chimed, lowly, "-thank y-"

"Don't even," Richie cut him off, before adding -playfully, "-I would happily get on my knees for my husband any day-"

"Oh, fuck you," Eddie laughed, shoving at him again. Richie landed a wet kiss on his cheek (with the scar, he liked kissing that one), and Eddie shriveled up his nose. That only made him do it again. And again and again and again-

The next time Eddie had to deal with the reality of Richie's fame, wasn't a fun one.

If there was one thing that might make Eddie regret being known as Richie's husband, it was the paparazzi. Richie had made sure they arrived separately and always rented out big spaces so people didn't see him. If it was a perfect world, Richie would never let Eddie experience the paparazzi.

It was not a perfect world.

Eddie knew that Richie had posted a few pictures of him, but he never really thought it was enough to be recognizable. And he didn't mind some people knowing what he looked like, he and Richie made sure it wasn't too much. But, apparently it was.

He was out buying groceries like he always did. Richie had a podcast spot today and offered for him to go but he was always too distracted with Eddie to be productive. So, he didn't go to those.

Usually, this trip was nothing. Eddie would run in, go through his meticulous list, buy it, and then leave. Today, he was about halfway through the list when he heard something. Like a click. Eddie promptly ignored it, staring down the bread aisle, looking for wheat. They kept moving the whole store around, he couldn't fucking stand it-

Click, click.

Eddie pursed his lips, staring at the bread that was just too high for his chair. He debated asking someone to grab it for him. Or maybe there was something lower that he could-

Click, click, click, click, click-

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, turning toward the noise. What the fuck-

And then his eyes stuck on the windows framing the front door -cameras shoved against the glass. Suddenly, the clicks became much louder and the lights flashed into his eyes, it almost made him dizzy. He shaded his eyes, dropping the groceries he had in his hands. His head was spinning, and it felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest. Fuck.

They're here for me.

Moving on instinct, he spun in his chair and turned down the aisle. The clicks only got more frequent, like the less he wanted to be photographed, the more they did it. Fucking vultures-

A breath crashed through his lungs, and he rushed past people who seemed to just stare at him. He felt all these eyes, it made his skin itch.

"Sir," a voice chimed, and he couldn't really look at them (everything was too bright, too loud-), "-are you alright? Do you need-"

"Where's your bathroom?"

The woman guided him into it, and he slammed the door behind him -locking it. Breaths crashed through his lungs, he pushed the back of his chair against the wall. Breathing in and out, in and out. He tried to, he really fucking tried to-

Eddie closed his eyes, trying to remember the technique. Breathe in for... for three seconds? He couldn't... His mind was going too fucking fast. God, these lights in the bathroom were so fucking bright-

There was something stuck in his throat, he felt like his lungs couldn't fill all the way. His fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair, so tight that they might be white. He tried to focus on the feeling underneath his fingers, but he felt numb-

"Fuck," he swallowed, and his eyes were burning (it felt like he couldn't blink), "-fuck."

Was he surrounded? Could he even get out of here? He'd taken an Uber, despite Richie telling him he could call him a car-

Richie, his mind thrummed, right, Richie.

Eddie blinked, hands moving on instinct -dusting through the pockets of his chair.

"Where the fuck is it?" He muttered, low and shaky, feeling through the fabric, and then his fingers found it -his phone. Eddie let out a sigh of relief, heavy and wracking through his lungs.

His hands were shaking, and he could barely see the screen, but he got there, to Richie's contact.

He brought it up to his ear. It barely rang once, before it was answered.

"Hiya, Eds," he chimed, and Eddie felt something in him relax, just a little bit, "-I stepped out of the studio for a sec, what's up?"

Fuck, that's right. He was recording a podcast interview, and Eddie was probably interrupting it.

"Shit, sorry, Rich, I forgot you were-"

His voice must've been rough or shaking, because Richie was immediately clued in.

"Hey, woah," Richie interrupted, "-breathe, Eds, it's fine. I'm always gonna answer when you call anyways."

Eddie tried to say something but it was stuck in his throat. His breath broke out of his lungs so loudly that he was certain Richie could hear it.

"Is everything alright?" Richie asked, and Eddie could immediately tell he was worried.

Eddie's brain was running 100 miles a fucking hour, he felt like he could barely see the walls in front of him. His hands were both still shaking so bad, he almost dropped his fucking phone-

"Eds?" Richie questioned something in his voice so concerned, "-You're kinda fucking freaking me out-"

Eddie's mouth just started moving.

"I'm out shopping, an... and-" he swallowed, letting out a shaky breath -fuck these LED lights, "-I guess somebody fucking recognized me because there's paparazzi all over the front door-"

"What?" Richie's voice flattened into something heavier.

"-I locked myself in the bathroom, Rich, but I can still hear them fucking clicking-"

"Eds-"

"-I took a fucking Uber, and I don't think I can get out, not with my chair. They could just grab me and I'd be fucking helpless-"

"Eddie baby, stop," Richie interrupted, soft and somehow sturdy (maybe to ground Eddie), "-breathe. Tell me where you are."

He felt a breath crash through his lungs, and he felt a little like his voice was shaking.

"T-The regular place," Eddie echoed out, a little numb, "-the one I always go to. Has th... the flower place across the street."

"Right, I remember," Richie confirmed, a little distant, like he was doing something, "-Alright, Eds, gimme one second. Let me tell the guys I need to go an-"

"No, Rich," Eddie breathed out, and his hands were shaking, "-just send me a car. You need to work, do your... do your job."

His mind was screaming at him. Don't make me a burden, please, I can't be a burden- And at the same time, I need you, Richie, please don't fucking listen to me-

"Eddie, I'm coming to get you," Richie leveled back, sternly.

"Richie-"

"No," he continued, strongly enough to make Eddie stop talking, "-Eds, you're more important than some fucking interview. You should know that. Plus, you think I can focus on that shit, fucking make jokes of all things, when you're locked in a grocery store bathroom scared as fuck?"

Eddie fell quiet. But something in his chest was fucking elated. Richie's gonna be here, Richie's always gonna be here-

"So," Richie repeated, "-I'm coming to get you. I'm gonna tell the guys, and see if I can get Cynthia to call Steve."

"Why not you?" Eddie questioned.

"Eds, I'm not hanging up this fucking phone," Richie laughed incredulously, "-fuck that. I'm staying on here with you until I'm there."

Richie's gonna be here, Richie's gonna stay with you-

Before Eddie could say anything, Richie was speaking.

"Hey, John, I'm so sorry, but my husband's having an emergency. Imma have to cut this short-"

He heard another voice but it was distant, Eddie couldn't quite make it out.

"No, yeah," Richie seemed to answer, "-I'll reschedule as soon as possible. See ya."

Eddie heard the slap of footsteps along the concrete, and it bounced around his head for a few minutes. His eyes dragged along the tile. The lights were so fucking bright in here, it made his head hurt. And if he focused enough, he could hear the clicks echoing through the air. Even locked away, they sti-

"Alright, I just sent Cynthia a text," Richie pulled him out of his thoughts, "-Google says you're like five minutes away. So-"

"What?" Eddie spoke, blankly -mind running with possibilities, "-Rich, you can't just walk in here, there's so fucking many outside. They could-"

"Eds, Eddie baby," Richie brought him back, tone gentle, "-I'm a big guy, okay? I've been to overpacked clubs before, I can do this shit. And there's no fucking way I'm not trying with you inside."

"Just be careful," Eddie echoed out, and his whole body felt exhausted, "-please."

"Of course," Richie assured, adding playfully, "-don't worry your pretty little head about me, Spaghetti."

Eddie laughed, but it felt a little warbly, "You know I fucking hate that."

"Do I?"

Eddie huffed out a breath, and it was a little easier to breath (his heart was still racing in his chest), "You're such a dick."

"That's my name," Richie chimed, instinctively, "-don't wear it out, Eds."

Affection bubbled up his throat.

He spoke in a sort of rush of words, scared but Richie made him feel safe (he always fucking did), "I love you."

"I love you too, Eddie," Richie spoke back, and he was smiling (but Eddie could tell he was getting anxious himself), "-I'm on my way-"

"As long as you're here," Eddie echoed out, his fingers squeezing against the armrests (at least they weren't shaking anymore), "-I'll be okay when you get here."

Richie paused for a second, seeming to take the words in. Eddie might have heard his footsteps pick up, though, he wasn't too sure. (He could certainly guess though.)

"Is it a nice bathroom at least?"

Eddie laughed a little, relaxing slightly, as his eyes skimmed along the bathroom. It wasn't the worst he'd ever seen (he had attended public school) but he eyed the strange stains and the rusted tap of the sink. And frowned.

"I'm gonna need to wash my wheels after this," Eddie replied decidedly, "-and maybe shower."

Richie laughed for a second, "The 'money-efficient' kind or the 'scrub everything on your body until it falls off' kind?"

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"But seriously," Richie asked, maybe trying to keep him distracted, "-is it that bad?"

"It's a fucking bathroom," Eddie clarified, "-I'd want my shit washed anyway."

"Is that why you never use public restrooms?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Eddie asked -incredulously.

"No, you're right," Richie amended, "-you're Eddie Kaspbrak, I must've blown a fucking fuse or something-"

"Tozier, dipshit," he corrected again (sometimes he thinks he does it just to hear him correct him), "-It's fucking Tozier. Do you not remember marrying me?"

"I could never forget it, Eds," Richie hummed, a little too genuinely.

Eddie felt something in his chest squeeze in a good kind of way, then. And it lasted for a solid second. But it still clawed up his throat, overwhelming. Richie's here, but he's not here. He can't feel his fucking strangely warm hands, or smell that Richie smell he's had since he was fucking 7-

He's on his way, he's coming-

"Are you almost here?" Eddie croaked out, and it was soft and shaky.

He could almost hear Richie's mouth flattening, before he seemed to pause -maybe looking around. His feet didn't stop moving.

"Yeah," Richie spoke -carefully, "-Yeah, I can see it."

Eddie knew it to be the crowd and not the shop. He wanted to ask how many there were, or maybe if he thought it was fucking safe to get in. But instead, something else bit up his throat.

"Don't hang up," it came out harsh and with sharp edges. He was just getting defensive when he felt scared like he always did-

"Eds," Richie leveled, very seriously, "-I'm not hanging up until you open that shitty ass bathroom door, okay?"

Eddie choked out a laugh, a small one.

Before Richie could respond to the noise, he heard the phone swarm with noises. There was the clicks, which seemed to triple at the sight of Richie (they were so loud) and there were voices shouting.

"Richie, is that your husband in there?"

"What do you have to say about the hate you've gotten since coming out?"

"If there was one thing you could-"

"Alright, fucking enough," Richie's voice billowed through the phone, and Eddie felt a little better hearing it, "-if you fuckers don't get the fuck out of my way. So help me god-"

It reminded him of a few different things, a younger Richie in that summer (fighting a fucking demon clown as a kid) or maybe just Richie in general. He was always fighting the bullies back, either for himself or another loser, and even if they broke his fucking nose, he wouldn't stop-

Richie Tozier had always been somewhat protective, especially of him. Eddie could definitely acknowledge that.

He couldn't count on both hands the amount of times Richie had stood up for him when he was afraid. Sometimes Eddie got angry and did it himself, yeah, but Eddie was half anxious all of the time. Worrying about everything. So, he couldn't. Richie never let it go unchecked.

"-I will sue each one of you into fucking oblivion. And I'll make sure to win, every single one of them. Capiche?"

The clicks didn't die down, but Eddie did hear the door swing out and slam shut behind him. He could actually hear it a little with his own ears too. It settled underneath his skin that he was finally fucking here-

"Is this private property?" Richie asked, "-They can't get in here, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry, I don't know why they're here-"

"Where are your bathrooms?" Richie cut her off -shortly.

"Sorry, there's someone in there-"

"Yeah, I know," Richie clarified, straightforwardly, "-he's my husband. Where are your bathrooms?"

Eddie didn't hear her response, but he did hear the footsteps in both ways. With his own ears and through the phone, it made something in him stir. Calming, so very calming. God, he's here-

And then there was a knock, and the line cut off.

"Eds?"

Eddie moved so fast that it made him dizzy, spinning around and unlocking the door. He swung it open and when he saw Richie standing right there, eyebrows pulled together and lips flattened into a line (he must've really looked fucked). He burst into fucking tears.

"Oh, Eddie baby," Richie cooed (normally he would hate it but he didn't now), and moved to get on his knees.

"No," Eddie shook his head sharply, "-this bathroom is fucking disgusting."

"Well, Eds-"

"Just fucking..." Eddie let out a shaky breath, "-crouch or something, I don't know-"

Richie paused, skimming over him, "I've got a better idea."

With careful hands, Richie crouched down and slotted them under his armpits -standing up and pulling him into his chest. Eddie instinctively wrapped his arms around Richie's neck and Richie's hands hooked under his limp knees -holding them right at his hip.

"This okay?"

Eddie wordlessly dug his face into Richie's neck. Just breathing in, Richie. His Richie-

"Imma take that as a yes," Richie chimed.

Eddie didn't have much fight in him at this point, but he still muttered into his skin, "I fucking hate you."

"One moment it's marry me, the next it's I fucking hate you," Richie joked -playfully, "-I'm getting mixed signals here, Eds."

"You asked me to marry you, dickweed."

[They'd just been lying on the couch, watching some old Western (mostly for the cowboys). Richie's head was in Eddie's lap, and Eddie's hands were combing through his hair. He was actually watching the movie, Richie was just staring up at him.

"What are you looking at, dipshit?"

"Marry me, Eds."]

"Oh, I did," Richie smiled, "-didn't I?"

Eddie knew that he was trying to calm Eddie down with better memories, nicer thoughts. He was also doing the same thing by being a shithead. That's how they worked. Eddie would be on the edge of a cliff, maybe he'd even be falling, and Richie would always be there to pull him back up.

"Yeah, it evens out," Eddie let out a breath (that wasn't so shaky anymore), "-because I told you I was in love with you first."

["Eds, are you seriously just wanting to fucking flip your whole life upside and come to LA with me?" Richie asked, in the hospital -a couple months into his recovery, "-All the people, the fucking celebrities everywhere, influencers up and down the streets fucking... vlogging or whatever-"

"I'm fucking divorcing my wife, I hate New York, I hate my life, actually-" Eddie paused for a minute, staring at Richie, "-and LA has you. It's a fucking obvious choice."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

And maybe it was the little bit of hope he recognized in his voice. Or the shine in his eyes that Eddie had seen his whole fucking life (and was pretty sure he could identify now). But, he just said it.

"I'm in love with you, asshole," Eddie confessed, "-and I'm not spending one more fucking second apart. Not if I can help it."]

"Yeah," Richie hummed, fondly, "-I remember."

Eddie added, laughing a little, "And then you threw up in response."

"Oh god, gimme a break, Spaghetti," Richie sighed -playfully exasperated, "-I had been waiting my whole fucking life for those words. And I never dreamed I'd get them. Then you just fucking say it so casually, like I asked you what time it was-"

Eddie leaned back, matching Richie's eyes -he was smiling so brightly (it made Eddie's insides tie up in knots), "Do you know what it's like to confess to the love of your life and they fucking throw up in response?"

"No," Richie relented, "-You decidedly did not throw up, but-"

Eddie rolled his eyes, again.

"-you did say 'thought so' like a cocky ass bitch."

"Well, I wasn't fucking wrong, was I?" Eddie pointed out.

Richie just looked at him for a few seconds, in disbelief. Like he couldn't believe he was there. Like he couldn't believe they were married or that Eddie loved him back. He always did that. Eddie could relate, though, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

"No, Eddie Tozier," Richie smiled, softly like he was looking at the love of his life (which Eddie knew that he was), "-you weren't."

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter two #it chapter one #it #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #I'll follow you (until you love me)#watchoutwriting

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