#idk!! he was a nine year old with asthma bad enough to put him in the ER! CLEARLY groomed by the Doctors!

[greymantledlady]

There's something so special to me about Theo's flowers for Tara being his part of the title sequence for Season 6.... they don't even include his face, just the lily splashing into the water as a tangible manifestation of his grief and regret. it's a only a couple of seconds at most but it's so powerful! it really encapsulates the core of S6 Theo to me, 'you don't have to stop' like... i don't even have anything coherent to say it's just!! his redemption!! makes me go feral!!!

[ghostnebula]

I’ll gladly keep the asks coming 😘 Let’s have some Richie comforting hurt Eddie

I think I’m legitimately running out of ways to write this because it’s in almost every single fic I’ve written shjdshsdjkhf

I’m thinking college AU, therefore set somewhere in the 90s, but the Losers stick together through it. Which gives Eddie the opportunity to learn and grow as a person in some ways, but still -- old habits die hard, and old cycles of abuse die harder. In fact, sometimes they return with a vengeance :))))

(haha get it)

Anyway, what Eddie gets right is escaping Derry with his friends, owning his sexuality (albeit tentatively right now), and taking matters involving his health into his own hands. What he gets wrong is steering clear of people who remind him of his mother, but this isn’t entirely his fault, because the resemblances aren’t always obvious, and even then the association tends to be subconscious.

So when he meets this guy who he just can’t stop thinking about, and who dotes on him but in ways that are comforting in their familiarity but not glaringly obvious in their origins/associations, and he seems to... maybe even like Eddie that way, well, Eddie’s fucking gone for him. He doesn’t know why. He wants to be around him, is all. It’s like they’ve known each other forever. Incidentally, he has pretty much known Richie forever, and Richie dotes on him, too, but in ways that aren’t bordering on sinister, and Richie’s head over heels for him, but Eddie’s so accustomed to that kind of stuff that he wouldn’t realize Richie was in love with him if it slapped him across the face. He also doesn’t seem to realize half the reason he’s even chasing after this guy is because he’s trying to get over his feelings for Richie, or at least just find a different outlet for them, because “obviously” it’s never going to happen.

He’s less than a week from risking it all and just asking this dude from his program out on a date when this guy (let’s call him idk Curtis or smth) asks Eddie out, and Eddie’s fucking elated. He’s on cloud nine. He has a fucking boyfriend. “A boyfriend, Bill, can you believe that? Someone who actually wants to date me!” (Poor Bill’s ready to fucking explode, he’s just nodding along like, holy fuck oh my god how are you this oblivious oh my god I can picture another person who’d saw off their arm to date you pretty fucking easily to be honest.

Things with Curtis are fantastic for the first couple months, and then once -- about 3 months in -- Eddie has this weird fleeting thought that Curtis... kind of reminds him of his mother, sometimes. Funny, huh? Maybe it’s just that he’s so insistent on doing everything for Eddie, which is just him being a gentleman, obviously. Then there’s that time Curtis cries for a fifteen minute car ride because Eddie chose to spend the afternoon studying in the library with his friends instead of with him, and he was so lonely, and “You don’t hate me, do you? It makes me feel like you hate me when you put me on the back burner.” And, of course, Curtis asks him to move in with him, in his apartment just off campus, which means he’s not rooming with Richie anymore. It feels weird and almost awful the first few nights, but he gets over it because Curtis would be offended if he thought Eddie might like Richie (or any of his friends) more than he likes his own boyfriend.

By the time they’ve been dating for a year, Eddie’s lucky to see the Losers more than once a month outside of classes or grabbing a quick meal on campus, but he’s always so grateful when Curtis lets him spend time with them. And Curtis is (usually) so nice, and he’s always taking care of Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t even need to have a job anymore because Curtis pays for everything, anyway, and insists on never letting Eddie spend a cent, which is just so nice, right? Isn’t that lovely of him? In fact, Eddie doesn’t even need to be bothered with money at all, because Curtis handles it all. 

Bev tries to tell him, while they’re waiting in line for coffee before class one morning, that she doesn’t like the way Curtis treats him, and Eddie snaps at her. He doesn’t know where it came from, or why he felt the need to be so defensive, and after he storms off he feels so terrible about the whole thing he doesn’t know what to do. He tells Curtis first thing when he sees him that afternoon, because there’s guilt weighing in his chest about it, and Curtis spends the whole evening pampering him and telling him how much he loves him and how one day, if ever it’s possible, he’s going to marry him. “Don’t you see what they’re doing, Eddie? They’re trying to sabotage our relationship. They think we’re disgusting. They think we’re sinners. They won’t say it out loud, but they’re going to try to ruin us because they can’t stand what we have. You just have to ignore them, okay? Don’t let them ruin this for us.” Of course Eddie believes him. That makes sense. Of course it does. He must be stupid for not realizing that earlier.

But as with all things doomed from the start, there’s a breaking point, and it’s the day Curtis has the gall to actually hurt Eddie. Not in a little way, like he sometimes does when they argue, or how he’s been pushing him to eat less and less because he’s “put on some weight,” or the way he’s been carefully manufacturing comments and insults to keep him down, keep him doubting himself, which in the end is just as bad as any physical hurt, isn’t it?

Eddie’s late coming home from school because he ran into Mike outside the library and they sat down to chat, and he lost track of the time, and there’s a cold feeling in his gut when he gets home and Curtis doesn’t look up from the television as he asks, “Where have you been? Your class ended over an hour ago.”

And Eddie knows, he knows they’re trying to sabotage his relationship, Curtis told him so, but part of him just doesn’t want to believe that, and Mike seemed so sincere. He never once made any kind of negative comment about Eddie’s love life. The most he’d done was ask how Curtis was faring. That was as much as it was even mentioned. So he tells the truth, and Curtis still isn’t looking at him in the few moments of quiet that stretch between them, or when he says, “Come here.”

Eddie obeys. He always does, after all. Curtis grabs his arm too hard and it hurts but he bites his lip because he should have known better, after all, and he’s stupid, and that was stupid of him, and what if Mike is just out to get them? 

“Do you want to fuck this up? Do you want them to take you away from me?” he demands, face contorted by his anger, and Eddie shakes his head. He can feel tears burning at his eyes but he fights them because Curtis told him he’s a crybaby and no one likes a crybaby -- he doesn’t want to make him more angry. 

“No,” he tries to insist. “I just--” But he doesn’t get a chance to finish because Curtis’s free hand connects with his cheek hard enough to snap his head to the side, and the tears overflow even though he really really doesn’t want them to, as he stands there, stunned, mouth agape, cheek stinging. “What the fuck?” he’s demanding, and Curtis is yanking on his arm to drag him closer, holding so tight he’s almost worried the bones might snap.

“Sometimes I think you don’t love me at all, you know that? Sometimes I think you’re just fucking mooching, and you don’t give a shit if I feel valued or not.”

Eddie would normally defend himself. Tell Curtis that isn’t true, that he does love him, that he shows him that every day, to the best of his ability. That he’s given himself over to him completely, and isn’t that proof enough that he loves him? Except right now, he can’t remember exactly what it is that he “loves” about this man.

The arm Curtis isn’t crushing in his grip reels back and Eddie smashes his fist into Curtis’s nose and he knows, in that moment, there’s no salvaging any of this, and wonders how he ever even cared. In his shock and pain, Curtis lets go of him, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to get the fuck out of there.

He’s definitely crying when he shows up outside Stan and Richie’s dorm, and he’s trying to stop it because he doesn’t want them to be mad when they see him (because he’s an annoying fucking crybaby, isn’t that right?) but he’s knocking before he’s able to compose himself because he can’t fucking compose himself. He’s shaking and he ruined it but, really, isn’t that for the best? When was the last time he was truly happy with Curtis? The shaking won’t stop anyway, and he can feel anxiety building in his gut, making his stomach twist, because he has nothing now. He’s just gone and completely fucked himself over, and the rest of the Losers, well... they probably barely consider him a friend anymore, or if anything they probably think he’s a shit one, and this was a bad idea. Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, because he’s imagining Stan sneering down at him and demanding to know why the fuck he thought they’d help him when he hasn’t been bothered with them in months, or Richie scoffing and telling him maybe if he wanted help so bad he could go ask his boyfriend, and--

The door swings open and Stan’s eyes go wide, and Eddie can’t get the words out, and he knows he isn’t having an asthma attack but this feels like an asthma attack. “Richie!” Stan is calling, but Richie’s already leaping up from his bed because he caught sight of Eddie through the gap in the door, and besides, he’d know that wheezing anywhere. Stan barely moves out of the way in time to avoid being bowled over. Richie freezes, though, halfway to grabbing Eddie to drag him into a hug, not sure that he’s alright with that (didn’t he always used to be?) and not sure what the fuck is wrong, but there’s a red mark on his cheek that’s pretty telling, anyway.

Eddie’s the one who surges forward first and wraps Richie up in a hug, because he needs it, and because Richie looks stricken, and Eddie knows somewhere deep down that Richie would never hate him. He’s always known Richie could never hate him. He has to repeat it to himself, like a mantra, as Richie awkwardly tries to shuffle back into the room with Eddie latched around his waist, but Eddie’s scared to let go. “Please don’t be mad,” he says, not quite meeting Richie’s eyes.

Everything he’s done in the last year has been so fucking stupid and he’s a fucking idiot and he’s well aware of that, so everyone else must be, too. So he excuses his behaviour with, “I just thought he loved me.” Maybe, in some way, Curtis does love him, but not the way that Eddie wants or needs to be loved, and he just wasn’t smart enough to see it before. He can barely wrap his mind around it now. But his cheek is throbbing where Curtis landed a pretty fucking solid blow, and his arm aches with the beginnings of a bruise, and he’s tired and hungry and miserable and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt less loved.

Richie, though -- Richie helps. Richie makes him feel better just by being here. By not letting go of him as they settle onto the bed, lying on their sides. Probably because he can tell how much Eddie can’t stand the idea of letting go right now. Stan brings them ice wrapped in a cloth from the kitchens and Richie holds it to his cheek for him and wipes the tears away and Eddie apologizes, over and over, until Richie tells him to stop. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Eds. Okay? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

Stan whispers something to Richie as he’s pulling on his shoes, and Richie nods, eyes flickering up to look at him, but then he’s looking at Eddie again as the door clicks shut behind Stan. 

“I’m just glad you came here. I really am. You know we’ve got your back, right? Whatever you need. We’re here for you.” Richie’s gone all soft, eyes shining, his hand resting on Eddie’s cheek even though he isn’t trying to dry his tears anymore. His glasses sit at an angle on his face, one side pressed to the pillow, and it would probably be funny if Eddie weren’t so goddamn miserable right now.

“I gave him everything,” he says, through the thick feeling of tears blocking his throat. “I... I just thought he loved me.”

(That softness in Richie disappears for a second -- so brief Eddie’s immediately wondering if he might have imagined it -- to be replaced by something hot and fierce and pissed, like he could burn cities to the ground if so inclined, and inclined he is.)

A tear finally slips out of Richie’s eye and runs sideways down his face to soak into the pillow. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. We’re here for you. We love you, you know that, right?”

He should. He can’t believe he’d ever doubted it, but something (Curtis) had him doubting. It’s hard to believe Richie doesn’t love him when they’re lying here like this, and harder to believe he ever thought Richie might turn him away. And as for the other Losers... well, he can only hope they’ll forgive him, in time.

He doesn’t answer because he isn’t sure how to explain that, but he’s sure that he fucked up, in some capacity, and that the love the Losers have for him isn’t completely unconditional. Right? Or is that something Curtis wants him to believe? He bites down on his lip so hard it bleeds but he starts crying all over again, anyway.

The door slams open and Bill is there, Stan behind him with Mike in tow. They file inside just as Bev and Ben come thundering up the corridor behind them, and then the mattress is shifting and dipping as several more bodies pile on around them, and somewhere he hears Stan snap at Bill to, “Take your damn shoes off, you animal,” and Richie, close above him, retorts, “Who the fuck cares? I wear my shoes in bed all the time.”

“Animals,” Stan repeats, climbing over them to sit against the headboard and pull Eddie’s head into his lap. He takes the melting ice from Richie to hold against Eddie’s cheek, which is still swelling despite their best efforts. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, when Stan tsks and shakes his head after examining it for a second, and several voices at once are telling him, “You have nothing to apologize for,” and “We love you,” and Richie smiles at him, albeit tremulously, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. Eddie hides his face in his hands because he can’t stop fucking crying but now it’s because he’s so fucking happy. Happy to be back with his friends and to know beyond any doubt that they do love him and it is unconditional and he might just be okay, after all.