#itfandomsecretsanta | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itchapter3 · 5 years ago

Text

Here it is, my gift for this year’s It Fandom Secret Santa

Ao3 Link (x)

My Secret Santa was @dark-alice-lilith I hope you like it! I used the prompt for college au/staying in the dorms over break with the paring eddie/richie.

@itfandomsecretsanta

The door opens and a brief gust of wind bursts through as a giant shapeless blob of coats, scarves, and reusable shopping bags shuffles in. Eddie looks up from his laptop screen to see this before it disappears behind the barrier that separates the dorm rooms’ shared kitchen from the laundry room.

Going back to the work in front of him Eddie decides to ignore the interruption until-

“Fuck!”

More shuffling, the sounds of containers being stacked and moved around then, once more with feeling.

“Fuck…”

Eddie closes his laptop with a sigh and prays that this is not a huge mistake.

“You okay in there?”

Some more shuffling, then an actual human being emerges from behind the wall.

And… he’s actually kind of cute Eddie’s traitorous mind notices. Beneath all the layers of coats and scarves he’s a tall, dark haired, blue eyed dream with admittedly silly looking glasses, but bone structure that more than made up for it.

“Just debating on whether or not I should try and walk all the way back to the store to get an egg or just end it all here and now.”

“Well I’d appreciate you not turning the common area into a crime scene I really wouldn’t advise going out there again, I’ve already gotten three seperate warnings about the snowpocalypse happening outside.” Eddie gives the guy another once over, despite the hat the ends of his hair are still dripping with melted snow. Taking pity on him he continues. “I may have a carton of eggs in my mini fridge, if you tell me exactly what you’re attempting to do with them.”

The other guy smiles and holds up a bag of flour.

“How do you feel about chocolate chip cookies?”

Eddie smiles back.

“Hmm… I deem them… worthy of me walking to my room to get eggs.”

“Yes!”

His arm shoots up in victory.

Eddie grabs his keys and laptop and by the time he looks up from that there is an arm holding the door open for him. He nods and leads the way.

The guy follows him, mostly quietly, though he does hum a few notes along the way.

“Eddie.” He says as they both reach the dorm room.

“Yes?”

“I just realized we never actually introduced ourselves.” He says, pointing out the name tag still taped to the door. “I’m Richie.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie feels like hitting himself over the head, he just basically invited a total stranger into his room. At least he seems nice enough, has a nice enough name, although it seems a little familiar for some reason. “Nice to meet you, Richie…”

He unlocks the door then, in a sudden moment of clarity whips around with an accusatory finger pointed at-

“Richie!”

“Eddie!” He tries to mirror back, but Eddie just narrows his eyes at him.

“You- You were the one that started that snowball fight last week!”

He can remember clearly now the last time he heard that name, an exasperated ‘ Richie! ’ yelled from the quad between the dorm’s two halls during finals week just before the sounds of projectiles being thrown and the window shaking crack of one hitting his own started up.

He had looked outside at the time, but all he could make out through the fog was two figures mercilessly pelting each other, alone. It would have been pretty funny had it not completely thrown off his concentration on his online Intro to Psych final.

“Guilty?” He gives Eddie a crooked grin, which shouldn’t be cute, it should be annoying right now!

“I was going to bargain for it later, but I’m officially staking claim to half of the cookies since you almost broke my window!”

Richie just nods.

“That seems… a fair and worthy payment.”

“Good, because it is.” Eddie shoots back.

He throws the laptop on his bed and goes for the fridge underneath it, pulling out a half-dozen carton of eggs.

Richie is scanning the various movie and band posters around the room with appreciation when he looks up and Eddie feels an excited dip in his stomach despite himself, he’s pleased that Richie seems to have similar tastes as him.

“Got ‘em” He says.

Richie smiles.

“My hero!”

He hums, more happily on the way back to the common area, until he clears his throat.

“So, not to sound ungrateful but who the fuck keeps eggs in a dorm room? Aren’t those specifically made to hold beer and like… a jar of pickles you only open if you’re extremely high?”

“I am feeling the strangest sense of pity for your roommate right now.”

“Don’t, he’s a monster.” He says with a fond tone that makes it obvious he’s joking.

“Well, if you must know I don’t completely trust the cleanliness of the cafeteria and scrambled eggs are pretty much the only thing I know how to make.” Truth be told since moving out he’s probably been living on way too many frozen meals than is completely healthy, but that’s still better than getting salmonella from dodgy cafeteria food.

“That… is fair enough. I once picked up a spoon from the bin that had a piece of lettuce just full on stuck to the side of it.”

“And if I hadn’t already blacklisted it, that story alone would be enough to keep me from going there.”

“That’s exactly what my roommate said when I told him! You’ve got to meet Stan the man, Eddie!”

Eddie nods agreeingly, but something makes him want to take Richie up on that offer. He also really wants to introduce Bev to him, there’s just something that makes him feel like they would get along like a house on fire.

Once they’re back in the kitchen they start up cooking and chatting. It’s easier than Eddie expected to keep up a conversation and it turns out they have a lot in common, classes, comic books, taste in movies. Eddie measures as Richie stirs and soon enough they’re getting close to done.

“Ugh… my mom always makes this look so easy.” Richie looks at the recipe, pours a little more flour, directly from the bag, into the very sticky dough, and looks at the recipe again.

Eddie hums to himself, not having experience with either baking or watching his mother bake, but happy to watch the trial and error.

“Okay, I think it may be good now.”

Eddie looks over, and it definitely looks like cookie dough, hopefully it tastes like it too.

“Looks like it.”

As the cookies are baking Eddie hears a beep from the other side of the room and remembers why he had been in there in the first place.

“Wait!”

Eddie rushes to the dryers and pulls out a pile of soft fabrics. When he gets back he hands one over to Richie who takes it immediately before he even realizes what it is.

At the recognition he moans, pressing the dryer-warmed blanket to his face.

“I literally owe you my life now, Eds”

Eddie laughs at the muffled praise.

“I forgot I put those in there, I usually put them in on ten minute cycles just to keep me warm while I’m working.”

“Mmmm,” He finally removes the blanket from his face, instead draping it over his shoulders like a cape. “So you always spend the holidays here? This is my first time, it’s deader than I expected.”

“Yeah, it’s really usually only me and the RA’s around here. So, why did you decide to stay here instead of going home for break this time?”

“Eh, didn’t have much of a reason to go home, I mean, my family’s Jewish but we don’t really celebrate, I usually just go over to my friend Stan’s house, but he abandoned me now that he’s got some new hot piece to bring home.” He sighs dramatically. “So here I am, abandoned and alone, luckily I’ve been at the mercy of a very generous and very cute stranger, so I have high hopes for not getting murdered in this ghost town of a school.”

Eddie laughs, a blush rising in his cheeks at the mention of him being called cute.

“Well, don’t hold your breath, if I wasted my eggs on mediocre cookies I have been known to strike out in anger.”

Richie lets out a whistle.

“Well, I didn’t take you for the vengeance type.” He says in what Eddie guesses is supposed to be a cowboy accent.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do then, partner.” Eddie drawls back at him, making him laugh.

When Richie sobers up he speaks again.

“You should come help me eat these in my room. Stan’s got this mondo TV with Netflix built right in! We can watch all the classics, pretend like we’re having a real Christmas!”

“I thought you were Jewish?”

“And I am selflessly putting that aside for you today, Eddie. Think of my sacrifice and then say no to my face.” He makes a face which must be his ridiculous attempt at puppy dog eyes. “Hmmm?”

Eddie lets out a laugh despite himself.

“Fine, fine. Only because of the sacrifice you’re making though, I live to see you suffer.”

Soon enough, the oven timer beeps and Richie pulls out a baking sheet full of perfectly browned, sweet smelling, chocolate chip cookies. Eddie burns the tip of his tongue, but declares them better than mediocre and they pack them up to head to Richie’s room in the other hall.

“Wow, your hall really gets into the holiday spirit… I’m actually pretty sure this is a fire hazard.” Eddie says as he takes in the canopy of white, red, and green lights hanging from every available surface.

“Yeah, I say blame Mike, he gets really into it and he’s somehow charmed all the RA’s into looking the other way when it comes to christmas lights.” Richie sighs fondly.

“I like it, we’d never get away with something like this in my hall.”

Eddie looks around, eyes bouncing from the perfectly arranged strings, overlapping and entwining with others. It really is a beautiful scene, more festive than he imagined ever seeing, and on campus no less.

“I guess you’ll have to come over here more often then, you should see what Mikey does for Easter!” He grins.

“I might just have to take you up on that.” And Eddie meant it, honestly as much as this break had taken a turn for the better he couldn’t wait until it was over so he could meet Richie’s friends, and introduce his own in turn.

Once inside Richie’s dorm, Eddie took a minute to take it in. It’s a lot bigger than his own since it’s a double, which he knows is shared with Stan, and the two sides could not be more different. One is meticulously organized, dorm standard furniture in the pre-approved configuration, bed made to what Eddie guesses would be military standards, textbooks stacked cleanly on the desk, the few personalizations seemed to be a few bird posters and brain teaser puzzles scattered around.

“I told you Stan’s a nerd!” Richie calls, noticing him looking around.

The other half looks more lived in, much more lived in. It’s darker, the walls are almost completely covered in posters and the dark blue plaid bedspread, which is not anywhere near made up, gives it a grungy sort of look. Eddie knows before he even processes it that this side must be Richie’s, and he takes his time looking over the little details that make it his. He’s got books and binders in a pile that honestly looks like he just turned over his backpack and let things fall where they would. The posters are mostly bands, David Bowie, The Cure, Nirvana, and a few that Eddie doesn’t recognize, must be newer ones by the look of them, he’s also got tickets from shows he’s been to taped up between the posters, mostly concerts but a few musicals and even one for a local drag show.

Eddie also notices the rather large TV set up against the far wall so that it can be seen well from either bed.

Richie must have been busy while Eddie was snooping because when he turns around from looking at the TV he's got the remote in one hand and about half of the cookies they made on a plate in the other.

“Pretty sweet right?” He says, motioning for Eddie to take a seat on the bed.

Eddie nods.

“After you.”

Richie obliges, putting the plate down so he can climb up on the messy bed. He pulls the pillows up to the head as he gets himself comfortable, on top of the duvet but under the blanket Eddie had given him.

Eddie follows him up, sitting with his back up against the headboard and looks down at Richie.

“Well, what are we watching?”

As Richie rattles off the different services Stan has built into the TV and Eddie just hums along and let’s Richie choose Netflix to start while he tries to focus on the words he’s saying rather than the warmth of him lying so close. Eddie’s a little afraid if he opens his mouth to talk he’ll scream out loud about how he’s sitting in Richie’s bed right now . Richie who is very cute and very nice and even pretty funny and has friends who sound pretty great too who he can’t wait to meet, and now he’s thinking about how much Bev would like him and-

It’s a lot, Richie’s a lot. But Eddie kind of likes that about him.

After Eddie’s vetoed three separate hallmark-esque rom coms, and Richie’s vetoed an admittedly pretty horrible looking movie about cgi kittens they land on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer which Eddie has never seen and Richie argues that that in itself is a crime.

After that’s over they decide to continue on with the series and somewhere around The Year Without Santa and Frosty the two of them conk out, the comfort and warmth lulling them asleep in Richie’s shared bed.

Richie wakes up first.

“Eddie...Eds!” He gives him a little shake as the credits music pours into the room.

He’s close enough that he can see Eddie crack an eye open.

“Mmm, lemme get your glasses.”

Richie doesn’t have time to process that because Eddie is turning around in a sleepy, cat-like stretch, reaching over the bed to where Richie really can’t see, but knows that his bedside table sits. Then he hands over the glasses and all at once Eddie comes into focus, his hair is sleep-ruffled, his eyes are still not-quite awake, there’s a red splotch on his face from where his hand must have been pillowing it, and all Richie can really focus on is how many freckles he has on his nose.

It takes Richie a minute but he realizes, once his vision is completely back to normal, that Eddie is staring at him too. His wide brown eyes are now locked onto his.

“You lookin’ at the zit on my nose?” Richie glances at him sideways before pushing himself completely up to face him. He presses a finger to the tip of his nose. “Just like Rudolph, huh?”

“I like Ruldolph! I think he’s cute…” Eddie huffs, a blush rising on his cheeks as well.

“Ohoho! I had no idea you were into beastiality, gotta say, Eds, you keep a man on his toes.”

“Shut up.” He warns.

Richie grins, he’s quickly finding that the more riled up he can get Eddie the better.

“I mean, does this thing of yours extend to Bumble, or-”

Eddie puts his warning into action and presses his lips to Richie’s, directly shutting him up.

Richie melted into the kiss, Eddie’s soft and warm against him, and he can taste the chocolate from the cookies they made together. It’s nice and sweet and a little feisty just like Eddie, but it’s also shorter than Richie would have liked, he thinks, as Eddie breaks the kiss with a heavy breath.

“I’m so glad I decided to stay here over break.”

Eddie grins, and the way he does tells Richie he is too.

#it secret santa #reddie #reddie fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

hamletkin · 5 years ago

Text

There were times in which Richie Tozier thought that Stanley Uris had gotten it right.

Rating: T for language, mentions of suicide, alcohol, and a car crash.

Word Count: 2181

Summary: Richie Tozier has been struggling with the loss of his best friend and love of his life for months now and something has to give.

This is part two of my Secret Santa gift to @floating-catastrophe for the @itfandomsecretsanta ! The prompt was about Richie learning to cope with Eddie’s death.

There were times in which Richie Tozier thought that Stanley Uris had gotten it right.

Usually he thought about it late at night when he was left alone with his thoughts and one too many glasses of whatever he had lying around. These days he didn't bother with being picky about it. Whatever got him drunk was enough.

It was funny though, to think that no matter how much he tried to drink to forget he couldn't. It was a load of bullshit too, that whenever he hadn't wanted to forget he had and now that he desperately wanted to, he couldn't. No matter what he did, Eddie's face was always in his mind. Sometimes he saw him happy and smiling in The Jade of the Orient in the final moments before everything went to shit. He could feel the warmth of his hand in his, the softness of fingers suited to desk work and no doubt a repetitive lotion routine. He'd think up jokes in his head then too. Ladyfingers wasn't particularly clever but when he said it in a spot on posh woman's British accent it became comedic gold. Probably the sort that Eddie would have liked too, considering he'd come up with it himself.

But more often than not it wasn't Eddie's smiling or annoyed face he saw. Why is it that he couldn't decide what memories to hold onto? It has his mind, wasn't it? Why then was he forced to relive that moment in his head? He could hear Eddie's voice echoing, echoing, echoing out his name in that moment of pain, of shocked confusion. Richie?

His first night alone after leaving Derry had been the hardest. Not only was he forced to deal with the stark reality of Eddie's death, of Stan's, of the childhood he had forgotten but now too, the deep abiding loneliness that was left. It was one thing being alone -- he'd been alone for most of his life -- but it was another entirely to have that void filled by the Losers only to now find himself without them. Of course the remaining Losers were only a mere phone call away but asking for help had never been his style. He'd made a joke to himself and the silence of his now obnoxiously-too-big-apartment greeted him. He had had one drink to settle his nerves before they gripped him so hard he was sent running for the toilet. Richie had remained in the bathroom for the rest of the night, even after his nausea subsided and he was left sobbing and hugging his knees and begging for Eddie to come back. He'd give anything for that.

He wasn't sure when he'd started screaming for him, pleading with whatever powers that be and cursing them in the same breath but by the time he was done he was hoarse and wheezing worse than Eddie ever had.

"Too bad...you didn't keep that inhaler... I could use a good blast off...." Richie had croaked. He wasn't sure when he'd passed out but he'd woken slumped against his large tub with Stan's letter clutched in his hand. Be proud. Of what?

Things hadn’t gotten better from there. His self destructive behaviors had gone from drowning his sorrows in a bottle to wrapping his car around a light pole. It was a miracle he was alive, the tabloids had said but he hadn’t seen it that way and part of him wondered if it had really been an alcohol induced accident at all. That was a part of himself he didn’t like to think about but one that was growing steadily more prevalent. Steve had found him a great lawyer, one who even kept him with his smart mouth out of jail. Community service was somehow supposed to be better but he’d only remarked at how it paid to be a celebrity. He’d made headlines for that and in spite of Steve’s pleading with him he had cancelled the rest of his tour.

Steve was another hitch in his road to recovery. All he had to do was look at him, listen to him talk to put it together in his head. How had his mind managed that? He hadn’t even remembered Eddie but his mind had somehow filled in the blanks.

His manager had begged him to stay and especially to stay out from behind the wheel of a car but Richie had ignored him on both counts. He’d packed his bags, tossed them into the back of his car, and said “fuck it” to commercial travel. As much as he didn’t want to be alone he needed to be away from people who wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to deal with paparazzi or fans or, God forbid, babies screaming back in coach.

Driving gave time for his mind to wander and that was the last thing he wanted but it was something he’d dealt with for months. He could stand it now. Something had to give. His mind gave him enough to ponder. Every time he drove over an overpass or took a particularly tight turn he thought about how easy it would be to go right over the edge or flip his car. It wouldn’t be quick or pretty and the tabloids would read: We Told You So. Maybe he could time it just right so he’d die with his middle fingers posed in the air as a final “Fuck You”. Morbid, he thought, and in the end he couldn’t do it. As much as he hurt, as much as he longed for Eddie he didn’t want to die.

What he wanted was to be free from the pain that woke him, sobbing or crying out for Eddie when he was finally able to sleep. The Deadlight dreams had died with It for Beverly but Richie thought they were all he saw. It hadn’t died in the cistern; It still lived in his mind and he feared more now than he ever had before. He feared what would happen if the numb and hollow feeling inside of him remained and he feared what might happen if he allowed it to close up. In a way, that pain was all he had left of Eddie.

There were memories too, memories now as bright as the sun but they weren’t enough to stop his breath from catching when his chest tightened painfully with each new thought of him. What made it worse were the missing years. For twenty-seven years he had longed for something he couldn’t remember. For even longer than that he had loved Eddie Kaspbrak. He’d never felt much hope in regards to a relationship with him but that was okay. After they killed the fucking clown they could have at least been friends like they had been. They could have been something and maybe he’d have finally been less of a mess. They hadn’t even had the chance and he cursed as he felt hot tears building behind his eyes.

Twenty-fucking-seven years taken from them and this is what they had to show for it! Eddie and Stan were dead! And they were left to pick up the fucking pieces of their shitty lives and move on! And how? How was something like that even possible? There was so much bitterness, so much hurt and they’d been left with no way to process it. Yeah, maybe Stan the Man had gotten it right… What would it be like to not feel like this anymore?

That thought didn’t feel like the others, it felt real and before he could give it any more thought, Richie jerked the steering wheel to the right to pull over onto the shoulder before slamming on his brakes. He heard horns honking behind him but he paid them no mind as he shifted his car into park. He reached first for the letter he always carried in his pocket and smoothed it out over his steering wheel with shaking hands. Had his fingers always been that pale? He scanned the creased letter and found comfort there, as he always did, in Stanley’s final words.

But there was anger too and that hurt, the familiar one that rose from beneath his rib cage that took away his breath and he pressed one hand to his chest as though that would make it stop.

I know what this must seem like…

He could recite it word for word for himself but reading it, imagining the words as they flowed from Stanley’s pen was something that provided him with some sense of connection to another human being who understood. Even if that person was gone, his words weren’t and even if Richie had never heard his voice as an adult he imagined it in his head and that was soothing.

Richie pushed up his glasses to rub at the inner corners of his eyes and to stop the tears from slipping down and making a mess of his already impaired vision. Then, he kept reading.

And don’t ever forget, we’re losers, and we always will be.

They had forgotten, all of them, and now they were cursed with this memory. He wondered if it was this difficult for the others. Ben and Bev had one another at least and Mike and Bill...well, last he had heard they were doing well. That could have been a lie, though. The Losers were good at pushing their emotions down into deep and dark recesses to avoid dealing with them until they climbed back up, like a clown from a well, and tried to strangle them.

There were times he wished he could forget, times when he wondered if the good really outweighed the bad. Were the good memories enough to make up for the loss of two of their friends? Thinking about it made his body seize up again and he forced his eyes to scan the letter once more. Stan had said they had nothing to lose but that wasn’t true, was it? They had everything to lose and they’d lost it. They really were losers. He laughed before it turned into a sob and the shaky breath that followed was painful.

No, he couldn’t go through with it. Not now. Eddie and Stanley would just have to wait for him. “Gotta follow my own path, right, you poetic asshole?” He laughed again then and there was something cathartic in it. It wasn’t going to heal him but it made it easier to breathe.

Be brave.

That was easier said than done but Stanley did have it right. They were Losers and they always would be. Maybe they did have a lot to lose after all, but they’d lost it together. They were supposed to be together. He neatly folded the letter and carefully slid it back into his pocket to instead withdraw his phone.

“Shit.”

Maybe he wouldn’t pick up. Then he’d be off the hook and he could go back home. He wasn’t even sure how far he’d driven, only that he’d gotten behind the wheel and had followed the signs. He wasn’t in Chicago anymore, that was for sure.

There were only three rings before he heard Mike Hanlon’s voice saying his name. He could hear the surprise in his voice and with it, concern. That gave him pause and he closed his eyes tight before staring up at the roof of his car.

“Hey, Mikey…” Shit, was that his voice? He sounded like a balloon deflating.

“How’s it going? You’re -- You’re okay, right? I saw --”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t believe everything you see, Mike. That’s like...Clown Fighting 101.”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Richie could hear the smile in his voice and it felt good. It made him ache too.

“Look, man.” He paused there, his brow furrowing as he once again rubbed at his eyes. “I’m in the neighborhood. Thought I might stop by.”

There was no hesitation in Mike’s response. In fact, he sounded happy and Richie was relieved that he didn’t question him. That might come later because, of course, Mike would know the truth but for now it gave him some time to breathe in that ignorant bliss. He told him he could stay as long as he wanted and while Richie assured him it was just going to be a short visit, the two packed bags in his backseat said otherwise.

“Yeah, I’ll call you if I get lost. I’ve always wanted to be search and rescued. I’ll see you soon.”

When he hung up he exhaled and put the car into gear before pulling back out onto the road, this time with some sense of direction and maybe purpose. Nothing would bring Eddie back and that was a fact he didn’t want to live with. Maybe he could learn to, even if it still hurt him, but until then he’d do what he should have years ago. He’d do what Losers do best; stick together and fight. If not for himself, then for Eddie, who never had the chance.

His eyes were burning again and he turned on the radio.

#itfandomsecretsanta2k19 #itfandomsecretsanta #reddie #richie tozier #i hope you enjoy it!!#i only feel sadness when i think about richie now and you did this #happy holidays!#i never post my writing on here sweats #it 2019

24 notes · View notes