#this was easier than the richie painting i must say

[7lizardsinacoat]

"Project, Ruth! They can't hear you in the back row!"

A digital painting of Ruth Fleming from Nerdy Prudes Must Die! She's so awkward to the point of becoming an icon.

......Bi-con

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 3/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3), Chapter 2 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 3: Richie Tozier At The Movies, Eddie Kaspbrak With His Thoughts & Richie Tozier With His Guitar

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster​ , @s-s-georgie​ , @mikeuris​ , @gazebobullshit​ , @that-weird-girls-blog​ , @tozierking​ , @thoughtfullyyoungduck​ , @s-onora​ , @bellarosewrites​ , @lermanslogan​ , @ambitiousskychild​ , @ghostnebula​ , @vanillaredvelvet​ ,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 3

Richie Tozier At The Movies

After bringing Eddie home that morning he set out for his next vinyl-date (the name was a work in progress) before going to his sister’s house. He tried to have his head in it, he did, but all throughout the car ride, he couldn’t think straight. He wondered how Eddie was, what he was doing on his day off. He couldn't think of anything even when he had already gotten there. He needed to focus, he wanted to, but he couldn’t stop his head from floating into the clouds.

So when he walked into the movie theatre, he knew he should’ve just stayed home. Alex looked amazing and Richie knew that, but that didn’t really help. They’d picked a new action movie that was heard to have a song from the record in its soundtrack. By that time, he had dropped over 30 records on the local subway, have gotten multiple emails from music lovers like himself, and gone on quite a few dates already. A few memorable ones were Will, a man from Hawkins getting over a lost love, had talked a little too much about said lost love. The two decided to stay as friends. After that was a date with Theo, a New Yorker in search of a painting and person. Similar to Will, in search of his lost love, they’ve decided to stay friends as well. Now, Alex, a writer from New York City who moved to LA two years ago in search of new love, had messaged him after he dropped, ‘Appetite For Destruction.’

“Hi! Richie, yeah?” Alex smiled at him, holding a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Richie nodded as politely as he could as he thought, ‘why doesn’t Eddie have the same accent?’ “Cool,” Alex hummed, “lets go?” “Sure.”

Richie was glad they went to the movies. It was dark and loud, and your excuse to not pay attention to your date is staring intensely at the screen to look like your focused on it. So, for ninety long minutes, he plotted about the easiest ways to get out of this date. ‘I have a dentist’s appointment’ sounded a bit too rude and overdone to him, ‘I have to take care of my niece and nephew’ was true, but sounded pretty useless. From the 90 minutes, he was able to think up nothing. 

“That was a nice movie,” Alex began, smiling at Richie. “Yeah, it really was,” Richie smiled, “but, uh, see, I gotta run." “sure,” Alex waved, slightly annoyed. Richie turned around didn’t look back.

Richie sat in the backseat of his car, staring at its ceiling. He started this to find love, to move on from what happened with Connor, and breathe. But now its seems like a waste of time to him. He can’t even focus on a date without just leaving to sit around in his car. And for what reason? He didn’t even know. He’s getting all of the chances that he didn't get but he’s just throwing them away. He’s just leaving and wasting. Maybe he just doesn’t get that chance. Maybe he just shouldn’t.

He checks his phone for the time and squishes to the front of the car. He didn’t need the stereo, he needs something going for him, no matter how deafening. Drumming a steady beat on to the steering wheel, “Robert’s got a quick hand.” Finishing the first verse, he turns his keys and drives out of the space. “All the other kids with the pumped up kicks,” he swayed his head side to side slightly driving over to Annie’s house.

Eddie Kaspbrak With His Thoughts

Eddie laid down on his bed checking the large, fancy clock hanging above his head, 2:30 PM. After the magnificent sunrise he witnessed with one, handsome, charming, funny, surprisingly smart Richie Tozier, he went home. Richie winked and said ‘wait’ after he brought Eddie back, and of course, that sent the shorter of the two in a bit of a craze.

He’d never felt this. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It was strong and wouldn’t let him breathe and made his heart explode. When he laughed, when he sang, when he smiled, Eddie couldn’t keep his mind off Richie. It wasn’t like this with Myra. How could it have been? She was there, to keep him alive, not let him live. ~ “Eddie-bear, have you taken your pills yet? You know, you’re mother called me last week, reminding me that you have a seafood allergy, why did you never tell me about that? I’m your wife, Eddie. I’m supposed to know these things about you! What if you ate something that made you sick? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, Eddie! Do you want that? Do you want me to be in pain?” ~ But with Richie everything seemed, brighter. He never said anything Myra did, he never forced Eddie to do something he never wanted to do, he never put words into Eddie’s mouth. ‘It’s clearly too early though, I mean four days? Can you fall in love in four days?’ Eddie dropped his urge to Google that, not wanting to get up (or be disappointed if no, you couldn’t fall in love in four days.) He was never strong. Physically, emotionally, he had always lost. He was never brave. He was the one that sat on the sidelines, afraid to see what’ll happen. Afraid to listen to what he wants. Was that because of his mother, or Myra, or him? He never really wanted to find out.

Sonia was controlling, she watched Eddie’s every move, didn’t let him do anything. Sonia introduced the two, and Eddie thought he had to fall in love. When Eddie married Myra, he thought that maybe he would be slightly freer. He was very visibly wrong. She wasn’t any different from his mother. After 15 years of being married, he realized hoe abusive his mother was, how he didn’t want that marriage anymore, and how more appealing men are to women. He told Myra the night he filed their divorce, all she did was leave the room. She left the room to call his mother. ~ “Don’t you just love her, Eddie? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s responsible, and she knows how to take care of you! You were such a mischievous child back then, when you played with that stuttering friend of yours, he was such a bad influence on you. Isn’t he… queer? I can’t even say the word. Disgusting. You shouldn’t have been friends with him, Eddie. Are you still friends with him? You must get him out of your life immediately, Eddie! I don’t want my Eddie-bear being like him.” ~ But what if he was in love? What if he was in love with a man? A man he’d only known for four days? Eddie sighed, fighting back tears. He didn’t need this. He shouldn’t be doing this.

He walked out of his room, feeling as if he can’t breathe there. But this is Los Angeles. This isn’t home. He walked down the long hallways heading down the stairs back to the library. Why had he come here? He didn’t know either or, he did, just didn’t want to say it. Eddie took a vinyl from the bottom of the shelf, ‘Never Trust A Happy Song’ in a small font above ‘Grouplove.’ He didn’t know any songs on it, but he figured anything would be better than being trapped in silence with his own memories.

He tried to mimic Richie’s moves from before, failing quite a few times. He winced at the loud sound of what seemed to be the end of a song. ‘Take me to your best friend's house, roll around this roundabout, oh yeah,’ played in the- Eddie really needed to Google what that thing was, ‘can you fall in love in four days?’ Rang in his head once again, forcing him to put his phone down and take a seat in the large chair before him.

He wondered what Richie was doing, why’d he had asked him to ‘wait’ and then leave. He wondered if maybe Richie had fallen in love before. If maybe Richie felt how he did. He wasn’t supposed to, that was sure, but he wanted to. He wanted to know the feeling of loving and being loved, maybe he had, maybe Myra was the feeling of loving and being loved. Or maybe it was Richie. Eddie wouldn’t know. He had hoped it would be Richie though. That made him smile, nothing like what he had gone through with Myra.

But it was also his fault. It may have done him good but it was still wrong. He may have needed it but that still wasn’t acceptable. He did do it. He wasn’t being responsible, he wasn’t being right. He did owe Myra something for what he did. He could’ve done it simpler, and not ruin his marriage in the most unnecessary way there was. He had to go to that bar, that night. ‘Somethings are too good to pass’ he tried to make a good excuse, but he knew it wouldn’t have worked. He was right.

But he didn’t owe Myra his life or his heart, he owed her an apology, a divorce, and something that would have been better for both of them. And what was better for both of them was leaving. It wasn’t exactly leaving New York, it was just leaving, no longer in each other’s lives and forget. Forgetting has always been much easier than actually facing your problems. Forgetting left things there, not having to see them anymore and not thinking. Forgetting meant, even for a little while, nothing can be any worse.

‘Don’t take me tongue tied, don’t wave no goodbye,’ He’d never heard this song before, but something about it made him feel like he did. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, something about it would make him feel like he knew himself, too.

Richie Tozier With His Guitar

He rang the doorbell, running to the side of the porch to not be seen. He crouched below the window and as if on cue, a little girl pushed the curtains away and looked out the window. “I know thats, you Richie!” A little girl said, opening her front door. “Aw, how’d you know that Maddie?” He said, ruffling her hair. “Mommy said you were coming,” she said putting her hands on her hips. “Just you and Walter today?” “Yup!” “Alright, go get your brother, I’ll be in the living room. Your mom’s gonna be calling any second now,” he said as he watched Maddison walk up the stairs and call her brother.

Richie walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, moving the guitar from his back to the floor. Just as he predicted, his sister rang the phone, “I’m already here Annie. They’re getting their guitars, we’re playing stuff today.” “Thanks, Rich. I owe you,” she sighed gratefully over the phone. “No problem. I missed these goblins anyway.” “Okay, thank you so much, I have to go. Mom’s gonna be there soon. Oh and tell Walter to help Maddie with her painting, she gets really unhappy when he doesn’t and-“ “I know this already, go.” “Thank you, Richie.” “Your my sister, its my job,” Richie laughed and put the phone down.

“We’re here!” Maddison smiled, brother in tow. “Hi uncle Richie,” Walter said softly, sitting by Richie’s feet with knees against his chest.

He was two years older than Maddison, the same age gap him and Annica had. Maddie was five while Walter was seven. The two were fairly opposite, Walter preferring to keep to himself while Maddie was outgoing and social. Outside of her sister, he raised them. Annie was a good mother, but being a single one, she didn’t have it any easy either. Her husband died less than three years ago from an accident. Thats why he came over more and took care of her kids more. It didn’t help that the whole problem with Connor rose in the time of this and him having a responsibility to not fuck up kids left him out of it for a while. Until he was just angry, he never took it out on anyone, that he made sure of, but he was just angry at love. Maddie and Walter were a help though, it made him forget. Forgetting is much easier than confronting, its like painting over graffiti like it was never there.

“What are we playing today?” Maddie asked, leaning her head to the side exaggeratedly. “What’s a song you guys want?” Richie asked looking back and forth between the two. Walter stood up, walking to the small shelf that sat by the TV. He walked back with a cassette tape in hand. A paper was stuck on to the tape, and in small letters and font, ‘Tongue Tied - Grouplove’ written on it. Richie smiled kindly at him, “How do you know this song?” He simply shrugged and urged him to take the tape. “Lets play it then,” Richie nodded while picking up his guitar. Walter held breath to say something, Richie having to give him permission before he did. “I already know the beginning. C-could you teach me the middle?” “Which part?” “After the second chorus.” “Sure. Anyone wanna sing?” “Can I sing with you? Like, you're gonna sing and I’m gonna sing too, both of us sing!” Maddie said excitedly with big hand gestures (Richie wondered if part of that was his doing. He assumed that it probably was.) Richie nodded, “one two three four,” G. “Don’t take me tongue tied,” G. Then, C. “let’s stay up all night,” He sang with Maddie. “I'll get real high.” Richie sang as Maddie shook her head. Despite Richie’s smile, a dark room, broken glass, smoke, tears, screaming, flood his head. ‘Fuck! Can’t I do anything right?’ He cried that night. “Slumber party, pillow fight,” The two sung in harmony again, “My eyes and your eyes, Like Peter Pan up in the sky,” Maddie sang bringing her hand up above her head to mimic Peter Pan flying. Walter and Richie laughed. “My best friend's house tonight,” Richie sang. ‘Stan? You there? Look, I-I need a place to stay. I’ll tell you about it when I’m there. Yeah… yeah, Th-thanks.’ “Let's bump the beats till beddy-bye,” Richie smiled, despite fighting back tears. ‘Connor. Connor. Connor.’ He thought. “Don’t take me tongue tied,” Richie sang. ‘Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.’ He thought, the tears behind his eyes, drying away, “Don't wave no goodbye.”

By the time they had sung three songs, Maggie and Wentworth were already at the door. He said his goodbyes and walked back to his car. Hearing the first song back again in his head, his breathing sped. He threw his head back and whispered to himself, “Breathe, Richie. breathe.” He thought about how uncomfortable and disgusted Connor looked when he got down on one knee. He remembered how Connor screamed at him, how Connor mocked him for thinking that he actually loved Richie the way Richie did for him. ‘Please.’ ~ “What? What the fuck?” Richie thought he was just surprised. “Dude, gross. I wouldn’t marry a man. That’s fucking gross. Look, man. I have a girlfriend, we aren’t fucking together. Thats so fucking weird.” “but I- I thought-“ “Thought what? That we were together? Fucking gross. Get out.” ~ Richie turned on his stereo. Anything is better than this. He didn’t need to cry, he didn’t need to listen to whatever the fuck was going on in his head. He doesn’t need to stay, he can leave.’ Please, don't let me down,’ the radio played loudly. Richie thought it was weird, songs like these weren’t on the radio, but he sang along anyway. “Please, don't let me down, You better come around,” he softly sang against the loud radio. He never liked his voice much. He used it for comedy, for words he didn’t want to say. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he felt as if he just shouldn’t sing, he sounded better doing impressions anyway. Although some people like it, like Walter and Maddie, he wondered if Eddie liked it too. “You save yourself, I'll save myself each time around,” he sang louder, trying to catch what his voice sounded like. ~ “Stan? You there? Look, I-I need a place to stay. I’ll tell you about it when I’m there.” “You can always stay here Richie. Don’t worry,” Stan sounded like he already knew. Richie guessed everybody saw it coming. “Yeah… yeah, Th-thanks.’ Richie tried not to break into tears. ~ He was going to go drive to Eddie. He was horrified, but he was gonna go to Eddie. As much as he would hate to admit it, he needed him. Needing Eddie to love him, thats debatable but needing for Eddie to be around him, he knew he really did need it. He hoped maybe Eddie needed him too. “You save yourself, I'll save you too next time around,” he sang. When Eddie smiled up at him he didn’t know if he could breathe. It was never like this with Connor. With Connor he always wondered who the woman that left their apartment was, with Connor, he always got shouted at and argued with. With Eddie, he smiled, his heart raced, his stomach churned and it was never like it was with Connor. “I'm not around, I haven't been here for a while,” he sang, the electric feeling coursing through his veins.

“You know I'll never be back now,” He shouldn’t break his own heart. Connor’s gone. He’s not coming back, and Richie’s thankful for that. With Connor gone, maybe someone else will stay. Maybe Eddie will. Richie smiled at the thought of it.

He ignored the nagging feeling of possibly not being loved back— again.

[har-rison-s]

heaven: 3

take it in

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back. A/N: Y'all ain't ready for what you're about to read hHEHEHEHEH. Lmao. I had some huge inspo to write this, so thank god for that! Hope you still like this series, and I hope to do you guys and myself justice with this and the following parts. Happy reading! warnings: smut, feelings, 'heavy stuff'.

word count: 1.6k (surprisingly)

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gif credit goes to owner, which is not me!

The Losers Club are a mess, that is certain. Only Y/N and Stanley seem to hold a clear sight and a clear mind out of all eight of them. But, they were just as emotional. And in a panic, too. None of them want to die, they're scared of death, their survival instinct is stronger than ever. As much as they can delay the possibility of them dying, they will do it.

Y/N holds Beverly's shaking shoulders as puffs of smoke surround them both now. Beverly's crying as she tells her friends what kind of fate awaits them all if they don't stop IT now, in this cycle. She claimed to have seen all her friends die horribly, and it scared Y/N and her both. She had forgot these sort-of predicaments until now, and Y/N wondered how scared Beverly must be having these images she saw twenty-seven years ago in her mind again.

There is also a hand on Y/N's shoulder. It belongs to Stanley. A comforting gesture, just like her hands are on Beverly, to give her comfort. But there is a difference in Stanley's hold. There's sort of an electricity in it. One that's bound to be released. And they both know when it's gonna be.

When they look at each other, Y/N having to look from below Stanley due to where she was sitting, they can't seem to look away. Stanley's eyes are magnetic and pulling her towards him. Y/N's are inviting, daring and challenging, almost, challenging him to do what he's afraid to. One of the many things on that list. She's asking him to risk everything. And he wants to say yes.

Stanley's a little sceptical of how Bill looks. The man looks dazed, almost drugged. Stanley looks to Mike and he has got a pleased look on his face. The look of achievement. Stanley realises he's convinced Bill with some hallucinogenics. God, they're truly a mess. What lengths does Mike have to go to convince his scared friends. It seems silly that he has to do what he's done. They're his best friends, after all.

Richie and Eddie are ready to leave any second, but Bill convinces them to stay. With great effort, though, the two are set on leaving this exact second and from Stanley's memories, both men are very stubborn. But since everyone is adamant to stay except for Eddie and Richie, they realised they have to stay, after all. The Losers Club can't stop IT if they're not all together. Richie and Eddie know that well.

Mike goes back to the Library for the night, making a deal with his friends that they'll meet before sunrise of the next day at the Library. All eight will need a normal night of sleep before their journey. Journey back to the past to protect the future. But how can they sleep? How can they be at peace, thinking of what would await them.

Insomnia tortures Richie, so he goes into Eddie's room to see if Eddie's awake, too. He is, and Richie's sudden presence scares him a little. They stay up, talking to each other while they play cards, their voices soft. Sometimes their voices die down, sometimes they get higher and sometimes even louder.

Beverly found solace in being awake by going to Bill. They also stayed awake together, talking from time to time. Mostly about memories of Derry and each other. Some things almost lead to other things, almost. Tension is definitely thick in the air in Bill's room once Beverly came in.

Ben, as always, is alone. He thinks he's always going to be alone, and is now used to it already. He is his own best friend. He's never felt lonely in his life, but when he knows Beverly is in Bill's room, Ben Hanscom feels like the loneliest man in the world. He pulls out the folded page he's kept in his wallet for years, and looks at it. The light from the street lamp shines through the window and onto the page, making it easier for Ben to read what it says, for the hundredth time. He sighs.

The instant Stanley's room door was closed, they were on each other. All over each other, breathing and taking in one another. Remembering how the other felt, what they liked, how to please the other. They're re-discovering each other, how they were together, how they felt in moments of heat.

Y/N and Stanley are tearing at each other's clothes and skins and lips and hair, they're mad together. They're mad to spend every second of the night together, spend the time given to them wisely. Who knows what the sunrise and morning will bring? Who knows what the next day will bring to them? Not one moment must be wasted.

They don't need sleep, they don't need rest. They don't need anything except each other. And the high they got off the other. The pair could do with only that to survive the rest of their lives.

Y/N can't remember Stanley ever being so bold, so brutal in making love. Sure, they'd done it a few times until he had to leave after high school. But no time was ever as vile and as desperate as this. And she loved it. There were no words, no questions, no hesitation. There was only missed-out love and desperation.

The pair hadn't even undressed completely when Stanley entered Y/N with his cock full of desire. Her head fell against the poor thin hotel door and she screamed. Stanley grunted and tilted her head back in its previous place. So she'd be facing him.

Stanley kept his eyes locked on Y/N while he thrusted into her and she whined and moaned, as well as he kept his hands on her hips. Her hands were taking turns roaming and squeezing his back and the back of his neck, and she tried her best to keep their eye contact. But it was hard. And, damn, Stanley was so hard. Y/N felt like she would die then and there from it, even without going back to Neibolt.

It would be hard not to hear them screwing like complete animals if you were standing at the hotel's entrance. Ben was sure Y/N and Stanley could be heard all over town. Eddie and Richie used the hotel-given ear plugs - with their disadvantages -, and Bill and Beverly decided they should split and spend the rest of the time remaining in their own separate rooms.

But when Y/N and Stanley reached their orgasms, my God, what their friends heard before wasn't even close to being as loud as that was. They had never imagined that Stanley and Y/N, the most shy people from them eight, would be this loud during sex. But Beverly guessed there wasn't just pleasure in those screams. There was terror and desperation, there was hope and praying to a higher power. And she had guessed right.

Y/N stayed held against the door by Stanley. They needed a little while to regain themselves, their breaths, their ever-so-clear minds. Well, their minds were hazy with a thick fog, and would be for a while, and there was no escaping it. An amnesia-like fog that made them ignorant to everything else except the other and the other's touch, and their love. It was love, both of them were sure. It had returned, and it's stronger than ever.

Stanley, now with a bit of a clearer mind, pulled Y/N against his chest and carried her to the hotel bed. He undressed her slowly, completely, and kissed every aching and non-aching part of her skin tenderly. And it made Y/N cry.

She was crying because she now felt what she had missed all her life. Who she had missed, and what he would have given her if they had never separated. What they could have had together, what they could have felt together. How their lives would be much, much better if only they had never parted.

Each kiss he gave her was worth two tears from her. And when Stanley realised she wasn't in fact moaning or whimpering, but that she was crying, he kissed her tears, which meant kissing her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her hair. And he kissed every part. Which only made her cry more.

She cried about the time they had missed, the opportunities left unused, the kisses given to strangers. Everything they could have had.

Stanley held her and, as they both lay there, now completely bare and exposed to the cold, horrible hotel air that reeked of sterilisation, looked in her eyes. He softly pet her hair and held the hand of hers that lay between them on the bed with his other hand. And they kept their eye contact strong, they were sure they didn't blink once.

Even as teenagers, they could stare into each other's eyes for hours without getting bored or getting distracted. They could do nothing else but that. Not many people can. But it was one of their… things. And it was still strong now, almost three decades later.

The moon and the street lamps shone onto the two lovers in the hotel room, to someone's eyes they'd look like a perfect painting in this light. These two lovers in a perfectly-made bed that was hardly touched. They were surrounded by the smell fo sex, the sound of sobs, the glistening of tears and sweat. By the words they want to say to each other, the longing and what-ifs that they want to voice. But they don't want to ruin this perfect moment, and the next, and the next. Y/N and Stanley want to cherish this complete silence and calm, before the storm hits them and hits this perfect atmosphere.

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[unpack-my-heart]

Sometimes I Have Everything (Yet I Wish I Felt Something)

Eddie Kaspbrak, pick-pocket turned international art thief and self-diagnosed lone wolf meets Richie Tozier, eager amateur, who just can't seem to catch a break

Read on AO3 HERE

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“You’ve got exactly four minutes before security will be able to get the camera back online, Eddie”

“Got it”

“Are you sure? Because it certainly doesn’t seem like you’ve got it. You should have been out of there five minutes –”

“I said I’ve fuckin’ got it, so I’ve fuckin’ got it, lay off”

The painting was heavier than he’d anticipated. He had done all the calculations, had sat up well into the night, eyelids drooping, plugging numbers into his dusty calculator, making sure that he would be able to wrench Ophelia from her golden frame without the need for anyone else to enter the gallery.

But he was wrong. The painting was at least two kilograms heavier than his calculations had suggested, and he knew that the excess weight would throw his balance off when Mike finally set the crankshaft off, and he and the painting would begin to ascend through the skylight attached to nothing but two snaking cables.

Not that he’d admit it to Stan, who was now gnashing his teeth in Eddie’s ear, hissing something about how four minutes had now become three minutes which was now two minutes, and Jesus Christ, Eddie, hurry the fuck up, but he had started to panic. His knife was too blunt to cut through the thick material of the canvas on the first try, and it whined and squeaked as he jabbed it into the matte material. A rookie mistake. He resorted to sawing instead of slicing, jerky aborted movements instead of one elegant flick of the wrist. His heart hammered against his ribcage, a brutal thumping that echoed in his ears, drowning out the suspicious silence of the gallery. Suddenly, half way through a particularly aggressive sawing motion, Eddie’s knife slipped, and instead of letting it gore a hole in the flesh of the painting, Eddie instinctively jammed his thumb in the way. The blade bit into the soft flesh, and blood immediately started oozing out of the neat gash.

"Motherfucker!"

He’d only ever sliced through one painting before. It was a Seurat. La Mer à Grandcamp, Bill had told him, The Sea at Grandcamp. Eddie remembers the tiny little sea-boats bobbing on the murky water, masts reaching out towards the sky, disappearing into the cloud, and he’d sliced right through the center of one of them when Stan had made him jump, voice static in his earpiece. In his panic, he’d wrenched the painting from its frame, turning the small slash into a gaping open wound, before he shoved the injured painting into his bag, crumpled and unsellable. Bill had yelled at him, and Eddie had stood and taken it, tail between his legs.

“Eddie, Eddie seriously, you gotta move, you really gotta move, Mike’s gonna start the winch in 30 seconds whether you’ve got the damn painting or not,” Stan demanded, voice cutting through the silence, dragging Eddie out of his introspection and back into the present.

One cautious tug later, and the canvas came away from the frame. Eddie screwed up his face in anticipation of the alarm that never rings but always could. It didn't ring. He held the painting at arm’s length, eyes dancing along the swooping lines, following the flow of the river, before finally landing on Ophelia’s face.

“She’s beautiful”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a real peach. Mike’s gonna start the winch, are you ready?”

“Ready”

Silently, like a heron taking flight, Eddie’s feet floated up off the floor. The canvas sat leaden and heavy in the vice-grip of his arms, and, as predicted, Mike’s voice filtered through his ear-piece.

“There’s too much weight”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Mikey”

“The painting, I mean. It’s too heavy, your calculations must have been wrong. I don’t know if this configuration is gonna hold you”

“We’ll soon find out”

A metallic whining sound filtered down from the skylight, and Eddie braced himself for a fifty foot fall.

The fall never came. What came instead were strong arms, the tell-tale sound of the winch clicking off, and Eddie and the canvas were dragged onto the roof by a vaguely sweaty and very panicked looking Mike.

“I honestly thought I’d be scraping you off the gallery floor,” Mike laughed, but his voice was laced with something serious.

He’d only done a few runs with Mike. He normally worked with Bill, who took risks and was almost always on the receiving end of Stan’s wrath for something or other. Mike didn’t take risks. Mike was methodical, Mike was reliable. Mike never left Eddie stranded in the middle of a strangers house in Iceland, two paintings under each arm and unable to open the door to escape, whilst he pillaged the wine cellar for a particular vintage red he’d been hankering for. Eddie much preferred working with Mike.

“Bev’s already sent over the details of the next job. It’s in a small downtown gallery, and you’re going in through the door and not the ceiling so it should be an easier run than this one,” Mike said, busying himself with dismantling the winch.

Eddie sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, before pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes hard enough that he saw constellations whirling in the dark behind his eyelids.

“When?”

“Tuesday”

“Today is Monday”

“… So tomorrow, then”

“For fucks sake!”

Everything Eddie Kaspbrak knew about art, he’d learnt from stealing it. He knew how to recognise where the layers of paint were the thinnest, how to cut into thick, chalky canvas, how he could slough the painting from its frame without damaging either, and how he should store a painting properly, so that it didn’t get marked by the sun or covered in a thin layer of dust. His own artistic talent extended to stick figures and no further, but he was now able to identify a Monet from a mile away, and he was able to pick a genuine Pollock from a pile of fakes.

He’d been head-hunted for this job. A petty thief from downtown New York, Eddie hadn’t expected to ascend to the lofty heights of international art thief before the age of thirty, but when he’d run into Stan on the corner of Canal Street, pocket bulging, full of stolen wallets, Stan had taken one look at him and dragged him into his jeep. Eddie had put up a fight, punching and kicking and swearing at the stern faced man he’d assumed was a cop, but Stan had locked the car doors and turned in his seat to face Eddie.

“You stole five wallets in less than ten minutes”

“No I didn’t”

“You did. I was watching you. You practically took that last one out of that man’s hand and he didn’t see you. You were right in front of his face, and he all but let you take it,” Stan had said, voice almost reverent, impressed.

“What can I say, I’m an artist,” Eddie had spat, hackles up and snarling.

“Do you just steal wallets, then?” Stan had said, voice light, light enough to almost be a laugh and it nurtured rage in Eddie’s stomach.

“Look, I haven’t got time for this cat and mouse shit. Either arrest me, charge me, take me downtown or whatever the fuck it is you need to do, or let me go. I’m not gonna suck your dick or anything”

“Feisty little street urchin aren’t we. I’m not a cop. Far from it, actually. I’m … I relieve art galleries and private collectors of their surplus inventory,” Stan had announced, smiling as if he’d told a joke that he expected Eddie to understand.

“So you’re an art thief?” Eddie supplied after a long pause. Stan nodded, raising his eyebrows at Eddie, almost impressed.

“Sort of. I don’t do the stealing. We have a guy for that, but he’s no good. He makes too many mistakes, and he’s not quick enough. We need someone else”

“… Me?”

“I hope so”

“So lemme get this straight, I’ve just been headhunted for a formidable career as an art thief?” Eddie said, incredulous.

“You could put it like that. We offer a great salary and some truly excellent perks”

“Do art thieves get a pension?” Eddie asked sardonically, but Stan didn’t take the bait.

“But of course!”

“This is fucking insane. I don’t even know your name and you’re asking me to steal art for you. How can I be sure you’re not a cop?”

“I’ve got a Picasso in the trunk of my car,” Stan said, grinning knowingly as if that’d explain everything. It explained nothing.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Stan sighed, and waved dismissively at Eddie, “it should mean something to you. It will mean something to you, soon. That is, if you take me up on my very lucrative offer. You’ve got thirty seconds before I turf you out of my car and send you back to your sad little life stealing pocket-change from people no richer than yourself”

Eddie stared at Stan, holding eye-contact for longer than necessary, challenging him to look away, to look towards the ceiling or the floor, but he didn’t. Stan held Eddie’s gaze steadily, and bared his teeth in a wolfish grin.

“Fine, but I know fuckin’ nothing about art”

The Tuesday job certainly seems easier than the Monday job, at least on paper. The gallery was small, much smaller than the ones they usually hit. It only had one entrance, which also doubled up as its only exit. There was a fire-escape, and several wall to ceiling windows, but other than that, the building was entirely secure with no other entry points. Ben composed a digital blueprint of the building, and managed to take control of the security system without much effort. He watched the security tapes of the night before every morning for a week, and plotted out the lone security guards monitoring route. The guard seemed follow the same route, like clock-work, each night, which made their job a whole lot easier. Bill reasoned that it shouldn’t be too hard to evade him, and began plotting their route through the gallery to the object of their desires.

The painting they’re going after was called Ignis. It’s a mass of orange and red, different hues and shades bleeding into each other, an abstract mess that gave Eddie a headache. Bev seemed to like it, though, and she told them all with a smug smile that the artist, a young German man, was anticipated to become one of the best-selling artists of the decade.

They made a plan. Stan, Ben and Bev were to stay behind, as usual. They were useless on the floor, and readily admit as much. Ben stayed behind to remotely monitor the security system, and Stan stayed behind to act as surveillance, to stay connected to Eddie constantly through his earpiece. Eddie, Bill and Mike set off in the blacked out van, arriving at the gallery at ten minutes past three in the morning. There was another van in the parking lot, white and unmarked. They all clambered out of the van, and wordlessly split up. Ben had remotely deactivated the security shutters on the fire escape, so Eddie managed to slip through the door silently and undetected. He went in alone, as he always did, having refused from day one to work with anyone else, despite Stan's initial protests. Bill stayed with the van, and Mike hovered around the exit, connected to Eddie via their earpieces. He’d be ready to rush in if he had to, if Eddie found himself in trouble, but thus far, he'd never had to.

The gallery was silent, and security lights flashed red and foreboding in the darkness. Pulling his balaclava over his face, Eddie began to tip-toe towards the rear exhibition suite.

He had taken three cautious steps into the room before he spotted the other person in the room.

There was a figure, clad in dark green camouflage, tugging hopelessly at the very painting that Eddie had come to liberate (Stan’s word). The figure didn't hear Eddie stalk into the room, didn't hear Eddie as he strafed along the wall, didn't hear Eddie sidle up next to him. It took a full forty-five seconds for the stranger to notice Eddie standing next to him, and when he did, he screamed.

“FUCK!”

Eddie slammed a palm over the mouth of the screaming stranger.

“Shut the fuck up or you’ll get us both caught,” Eddie hissed, hand still clamped over the strangers mouth.

The stranger looked up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates from behind thick rimmed red glasses. Once Eddie’s sure that they won't make any more noise, he let the stranger go.

“Dude, that fuckin’ hurt,” The stranger moaned, and rubbed a hand over his chin. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Stealing the painting,” Eddie says, plainly.

“Not just a pretty face then,” the stranger drawled, and it takes every bit of Eddie’s self-control not to sock him in the arm.

Eddie sighed instead. “You can’t see my face”

“Naw, but I can see your eyes”

Stupidly, Eddie chokes on his tongue, caught off-guard. He splutters, just wordless noise, and the stranger laughs at him.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck off. Why are you stealing this painting?”

The stranger shrugged, “I was told to. Boss wants it, and what the boss wants the boss gets”

“Who’s your boss?” Eddie asked, as he pushed past the stranger before he stepped over the velvet rope cordoning off the painting from the rest of the room. The stranger followed, forcing himself between Eddie and the painting.

“No can do. That information’s classified. What are you doing here? You’re not a cop, are you?”

“Do I look like a cop?” Eddie deadpanned, gesturing to himself. He was wearing his black neoprene bodysuit, the very same bodysuit that Bev affectionately called his catsuit.

“No, you look like you’re going surfing, what is that? A wetsuit? It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, if you know what I’m saying”

“Fuck off, at least I blend into the darkness. Camouflage doesn’t work when you’re not in the jungle, moron”

The strangers face turned pink under Eddie’s scrutiny, and he turned around, and continued trying to wrench the painting off the wall without another word. Eddie tried to grab his bicep, but the stranger shrugged him off.

“Stop, fucking stop! You’re pulling at it too hard, you’re going to set off the –”

As if on cue, the alarm roared to life, screaming into the silence.

“… fucking SHIT!” Eddie yelled, not tempering his voice, before he scrambled straight towards the back window, the one that Ben had identified as his emergency escape route. He’d never had to use his pre-planned emergency escape route before, and he internally cursed this stranger for breaking his streak of good fortune.

Before he could throw himself through the window, glass be damned, Eddie glanced back over his shoulder. The stranger hadn’t moved. He was still standing with his hands on the painting, face white as a sheet of marble. He was shaking so violently that Eddie could see his knees knock together, a sight that would have been funny if Eddie hadn't have been sure that any second now the police would have charged through the door to arrest them both. He made the decision instantly, almost passively.

“YOU!”

The stranger looked up at him, wide eyed and terrified.

“Fucking follow me, MOVE!”

The stranger sprung into action instantly, abandoning the painting that was now hanging onto the wall by only one corner, and scrambled over to the window where Eddie was standing.

“Cover your face,” Eddie demanded, before he kicked the window with all of his might, sending shards of glass raining down on them like snowflakes, twinkling in the moonlight.

Eddie crawled through the window, wincing as a jagged piece of glass caught his hand, and briefly debated sprinting off in the direction of the van, before extending an arm back through the window.

“Take my hand!”

The stranger grabbed Eddie’s hand, pulling himself through the shallow tunnel of jagged glass. They both took off in a sprint, Eddie’s heart beating a brutal rhythm in his ear. Eddie lead them in the direction of the alleyway that they had previously agreed Bill would move the van to if any alarms sounded, and as soon as they had rounded the corner, Mike threw the backdoor open, and both Eddie and the stranger all but fell into the back of the van.

“DRIVE!” Mike yelled, and, with Bill at the wheel, the van skidded out of the alleyway, tires screeching violently.

For the first time in over an hour, Eddie closed his eyes, and let himself breathe. The illusion of calm only lasted for three seconds, however, because Mike almost immediately jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Eddie, who the fuck is this?!” Mike said, gesturing wildly at the stranger, who was sat hunched in the corner of the van, head between his hands. Eddie watched him, vaguely concerned that he was going to be sick everywhere. He nudged a discarded bucket closer with his foot, as discretely as he could manage.

“It’s a crazy fuckin’ story, Mikey, you ready?”

“Just tell me, Eddie, Jesus”

“He was trying to steal Ignis”

“… No way”

“Yes way. I walked in, stealthy as a fuckin’ cat, and there he was, all dressed up in camo like he’s off hunting or something, trying to haul the canvas out of the frame without having cut it first”

“Who does he work for?” Mike asked, sending the stranger a concerned look. The stranger either didn't notice or didn't care, head still between his hands, face still suspiciously pale.

“He won’t tell me. Says he’s got a boss, though, so we know it isn’t just him.”

Mike shifted in the van, clambering over the center console to sit shotgun next to Bill, who was practically red in the face. Eddie carefully decided not to engage him in conversation, and instead crawled across the van so he was sat next to the stranger.

“What’s your name? I’m Eddie, that’s Mike and Bill’s driving”

“Richie,” the stranger – Richie – supplied, in a voice that was much steadier and more even than Eddie had anticipated.

“So, Richie, where are we dropping you?”

“52 Portland Street. Do you know it?”

“I’m sure Bill can get us there, right Bill?”

“Sure,” Bill supplied in a curt, snippy tone but Eddie counted it as a win that he spoke at all.

“I can’t believe I almost got caught” Richie said, and Eddie laughed.

“Yeah, you were giving that frame a real good tug. Have you done this before?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No”

Richie doesn’t say anything, but he looks up at Eddie and winks.

Now they’re not in the gallery, and Richie’s face is bathed in the soft glow of the torch they rigged up in the van to serve as a light source, Eddie felt something mimicking attraction stir in the pit of his stomach. Richie’s face was angular, sharp lines and pointed tips, and his hair was swept off his face with a bandana that should have looked absurd but somehow didn't. Eddie thought idly that he’d seen this face before, in a portrait perhaps, or painted in the sunset when the sun hung heavy and bloated just above the horizon.

Richie’s looked back at him, eyes softer than they’d been before, and maybe they were also a little damp, because they were shining in the torchlight, and Eddie forced himself to look away.

Richie huffed, an annoyed little noise that Eddie is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he did. He realised three beats too late that his body was entirely angled towards Richie, toes to shoulders. He tried not to think about what that might mean.

Then they were pulling into Portland Street, and it was too soon, Eddie told himself that it’s because he wants to quiz Richie about his boss, but he knew it was a lie.

“I have actually done this before, you know. I’m just – that one threw me off. I’ve never done paintings before, I’ve always been on sculptures and small paraphernalia, you know. Jugs and vases and shit. The painting guy got … well, he quit. So that’s me now. The new painting guy”

“He quit?” Eddie parrots back, shooting Richie a sceptical look, but Richie just shrugs.

“S’what I was told. So are you guys a team or something?”

“Or something,” Bill said before Eddie can speak, and then he’s pulling the van into park, and switching off the engine. “Portland street”

“Thanks, Big Bill!” Richie beamed, earning a scowl from Bill for his trouble.

Swinging the door of the van open, Richie hopped out. “Care to walk me to my door, Eddie?”

“Naw, too comfy,” Eddie joked, but he hopped out of the van anyway.

They walked slowly up the path to Richie’s door, in a bizarrely comfortable silence.

“Are you really not going to tell me who your boss is?” Eddie asks, pushing his luck.

“Nope. I would, but I can’t. Don’t wanna wake up with a horse’s head in my bed or some shit”

“You are joking, right?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past him, I suppose”

“Richie … are you safe?” Eddie faltered, after several seconds of silence.

“Safe? Uh... How safe are any of us, Eds? You do realise that we break the law on a regular fuckin’ basis right?”

“You know what I mean, jack-ass. Serves me right for giving a damn about you, I suppose”

“You give a damn about me?”

“About as much as someone can give a damn about a dumbass stranger,” Eddie shot back, but he was smiling, and Richie was smiling too, a dorky sort of grin that reminded Eddie of the sun.

“I’m touched, Eddie, truly. I’m safe. I’m safe enough. I won’t be doing this forever, anyway. Not exactly a career with long-term progression goals,” Richie said, as he leant against his front door with one shoulder.

“I’m gonna head off, then," Eddie said, and gestured to the van over his shoulder with his thumb, "next time, use a damn knife and cut the canvas out of the frame”

“You got it, chief!”

“Eddie! Hurry the fuck up” Bill yelled from the van, and Eddie groaned.

“See you, Richie. Stay out of trouble!”

Eddie jogged back to the van, hopping inside the open back door.

“So who’s your new best friend?” Bill asked bluntly.

“It’s not like that, I was just trying to get information about his boss,” Eddie replied, defensively, “and anyway, I didn’t manage to convince him to tell me anything so it doesn’t matter now”

“You were looking awful chummy walking up to his house is all I’m saying”

“Well maybe your visions clouded with all the steam rising from your very red face”

“Stop being so fucking childish –”

“Look, we’re all pissed that tonight didn’t work out,” Mike interjected, “but shall we try and not bite each other’s heads off before we arrive back at base?”

Bill put the van in gear, and drove away from Richie’s house without another word.

[t4tozier]

The Journey’s In the Trip (Or Something Like That)

my fill for @it-more-like-lit for the @it2ficexchange! thank you to @denbroughbill and @whatdidisayhoney for putting this together!

Pairing: OT7, (Reddie, Benverly, and Steddie-centric)

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort, Road Trip

Warnings: None except Eddie having issues with Sonia’s nicknames

Read it below, or on Ao3!

It had started like any other day. Stan was the first one up, and he and Mike were making breakfast for the rest of them. They always went all out—cooking for seven people was no picnic. Bill was still asleep, in the bed that was much too large now that two of his boyfriends were absent from it. Eddie was very much awake, though, and being in bed with a still-sleeping Richie was getting increasingly frustrating.

He was too lazy this morning to not get a piggyback ride downstairs, but it was difficult to wake Richie up. Eddie was pretty sure his boyfriend could sleep through a town-wide attack by a killer clown. So here they were, Eddie struggling while Richie blissfully slept.

Eddie kept poking and prodding at Richie, to no avail. “Riiichieeee,” he whined, poking at his cheek again. Nothing. He got so close to him that their noses were touching. “Riiichard, wake uuup,” Eddie singsonged, pressing a light kiss to the bridge of his nose. That got a result. Richie’s nose crinkled up and he let out a soft groan, but didn’t open his eyes. Eddie grinned at that development. With all the months they’d all been together, and all the years they’d been friends before that, Eddie would’ve thought he knew everything about them. And yet, he still found out something new every day, another little trick to make one of them happy.

Bill always stuck an extra brush behind his ear when he painted. Why? None of them had any idea, but it might have something to do with how, when one of them noticed, they’d pluck the brush from him and paint all over him with invisible acrylic. It was inevitable, really. He always had an amused little smile on his face when they did it, and it usually ended in the other receiving a bunch of kisses from him because he just adored it.

Stan loved for one of them to do up his tie in the morning before he went to work. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but they knew he liked to have an excuse to be close to them without saying that was what he wanted. Some of them were better at it than others—Ben and Mike, namely. Richie was by far the worst, taking eons to struggle with it until Stan gently had to take over for him. Eddie secretly thought Stan liked that the best, though. It showed Richie cared.

Ben adored when he received an item of clothing from any of them. A childhood of sweatshirts and sweatpants left little room for developing style, which meant he’d found the style of each of the Losers creeping into his wardrobe. The Hawaiian shirts that hung loosely on Richie’s skinny frame fit perfectly on Ben, but Richie didn’t like to share, so he got Ben one for himself after seeing how much he enjoyed it. It all kind of snowballed from there, and now all the Losers got Ben clothes in their respective styles.

Bev loved to have her hair played with, whether that was one of them braiding it up or just twirling curls of it around their fingers. She’d go completely pliant, pressing lazy kisses to wherever she could reach. Ben especially liked to use this to his advantage when he was too shy to kiss her out of nowhere. Bev was very aware of this, but she loved it; it just made her fall even more in love with him.

Mike loved to be brought breakfast in bed. Cooking for six people was fun, sure, but even with Stan’s help, it could be exhausting. So when anyone put in the effort to wake up a little earlier and make some waffles or even just cut up some fruit for him, he always appreciated the hell out of it. Eddie was guilty of that plenty. He wasn’t the best at cooking, but he liked to butter Mike up with some toast and eggs when he wanted to have date night. Mike was incredible, but he was busy, and finding time to be with him one-on-one was difficult. A little breakfast in bed seemed to make it a little easier.

Although Eddie didn’t like to admit it, he was thrilled when any of them gave him piggyback rides. Even Bev tried, although she had more of a difficult time with it. He was four inches taller and muscular, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try. Something about the action always made Eddie sappy and soft. He used to hate when anyone commented on or teased him about his size or his sensitivity, but since getting together with the boys, he’d learned to love both parts. Eddie was now much more openly affectionate, and he loved that his shorter stature allowed the guys to carry him with ease.

And now, Eddie just discovered a “thing” of Richie’s; kissing was an effective tool to wake him up. He was sure he learned it before, but his memory constantly failed him. He was convinced it was because of his mother; she had stunted his brain growth with all the medications, and now his memory was shoddy. It was a theory he’d never been able to confirm but had wondered about since he found out about the placebos. But this wasn’t a time for him to focus on that. Instead, Eddie preferred to focus on the sleepy man in front of him.

“Baby baby,” Eddie cooed, pecking at his boyfriend’s cheeks and forehead and nose, giggling delightedly at each little sound and scrunch of his face. “Wake up, Richard, you gotta bring me downstairs.” He pressed a kiss to his chapped lips for the first—but certainly not the last—time of the day, and like Snow White, Richie’s lashes fluttered open.

He looked like Snow White too—pale skin and pink cheeks and frizzy black hair fluffed across the pillow. Goofy looking Snow White, that was him. His limbs were spread out across the bed in such a way that Eddie had to contort himself just to fall asleep, and he had some dried drool on his chin. Handsomest man alive.

“Good morning, honey,” Eddie greeted to a still half-asleep Richie, kissing him again.

“Mmph, mornin’,” Richie groaned tiredly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Eddie cuddled up to him more, resting his head on his chest and brushing his hair out of his face.

“How’d you sleep, baby?”

“Dreamt about your mom the whole time, so I’d say pretty good,” he drawled, grinning when he received an elbow to the side.

“Richieee,” Eddie sighed. At this point, he was used to it, but it didn’t make it any less gross. “Come on, babe, get up an’ brush your teeth so you can bring me downstairs.”

Richie pushed himself up with a little smirk. “As you wish, my liege.” He hopped out of bed and gave a little bow, passing Ben and Beverly’s room on the way to the bathroom.

“Ben, come on, it’ll be so fun!” Beverly pleaded, kissing all over his face in an attempt to sway him. He laughed at her enthusiasm, kissing her back softly once she reached his lips.

“Okay, okay,” he said finally, holding his hands up in defeat. “If they say no, though, I’ll say I had no part in this.” Ben grinned and threw back the covers, slowly getting out of bed. He had boxers on but no pants or shirt, which Bev was incredibly thankful for. He’d gotten so much more confident since they all got together and it made them endlessly happy to see it. He’d lost a little weight since high school, sure, but Bev was ever-so-slightly selfishly convinced that it was their constant doting that helped him get to the attitude towards his body Ben had today.

Bev stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, though she still wasn’t tall enough to reach his lips. She settled for pressing a light kiss to his left pec, making him blush. “Come on, then, Benji! Let’s go ask!” She grabbed onto his hand and tugged him out of the room. Ben laughed at her enthusiasm and let himself be led downstairs.

Richie caught sight of them making their way down the hallway while he was in the bathroom. “Benny Boy! Bev, my queen! C’mere an’ gimme a goo’ mornin’ kiss!” he greeted, voice muffled around the toothbrush.

“Ew, Rich, you’ve got toothpaste on your chin,” Bev complained, but did a little jump to kiss his cheek anyway.

“Thanks, babe.” Richie grinned, more toothpaste dribbling out his mouth.

“Bev’s right, Richie, that’s kinda gross,” Ben teased, mussing his boyfriend’s already messy hair as he kissed him on the forehead. “Better clean up quick, Bev’s got a proposition.” Richie’s eyes widened and he waggled his eyebrows. “Not that kind of proposition, Richie,” Ben said, smiling even as he rolled his eyes. “Hurry up, sweetheart.” He kissed him again, this time on the cheek, before going downstairs with Bev.

Richie blushed. A year of being together and he still hadn’t gotten used to Ben’s petnames and soft touches. He finished up in the bathroom quickly before coming back to the bedroom. Eddie was still lying there, hand draped dramatically over his eyes.

“When will my boyfriend return from war?” he lamented. “It’s been decades, he must be home soon!” Eddie’s hand flopped back on the bed and he slowly opened his eyes to see Richie standing over him, rolling his eyes back so all Eddie could see were the whites. “Jesus, Rich!” he screeched, jerking up. “Don’t do that, you know that scares the shit outta me!” He clutched his heart, making Richie laugh.

“You’re such a cutie when you’re scared,” Richie teased, leaning down to kiss Eddie softly. “Well, you’re a cutie all the time, but still. C’mon, Spaghetti, position yourself.” He turned around, crouching low so Eddie could clamber onto his back. Once he did, Richie stood up straight, hands holding his boyfriend’s thighs firmly. “All good?” He felt a confirming nod against his shoulder and smiled. “Alright, baby.”

Richie made his way down the stairs slowly, for once. He didn’t wanna drop Eddie. That would not be ideal.

They got to the kitchen to see everyone else already there; Bill had made it down sometime earlier. “Hello, my loves!” Richie greeted happily, going around the room to collect kisses from the three he hadn’t already received one from.

“Good morning, babylove,” Stan responded, looking down at the stove to make sure the pancakes weren’t burning. He looked up briefly when he heard Richie approach, and a soft smile grew across his face. “Bug a little sleepy this morning?” he teased at the sight of Eddie, eyes closed as his head rested in Richie’s shoulder. Eddie nodded, pouting a little.

“Think someone’s feeling needy,” Richie stage whispered, earning him a weak slap on the chest. Both of them laughed. “Am I wrong?” He didn’t get a response, which made them laugh harder. He turned his head and kissed Eddie’s hair. “It’s alright, baby, I don’t mind,” he whispered, turning back to face the other man. “C’mere, Staniel, gimme a smooch.”

With that same soft smile, Stan cupped Richie’s cheek and brought him down into a gentle kiss. “Now shoo,” he chastised, although he was grinning. “If you wanna eat, you can’t distract me.”

“Anything for food—I mean you,” Richie joked as he turned around, earning himself another smack. This time, it was from Stan and on the ass. “Woo! Staniel, gettin’ rough! I love it, but wait for later, alright?” Stan rolled his eyes and turned back to the pancakes with a grin.

Richie went to put his boyfriend down, but he got a muffled “Mm mm” in response.

“Baby,” he laughed, “I can’t hold you up forever, my arms are already shaking. You can sit on my lap, how ‘bout that?” A pause. Then a sigh and a nod. “Thanks, hon.” He put Eddie down gently, kissing him on the cheek before dancing over to Mike.

The taller man laughed, pulling Richie into a hug as he kissed him. “Someone’s cheerful,” Mike observed, running a hand through his boyfriend’s hair in a futile attempt to detangle it. Richie poked out his tongue a bit as he grinned.

“And why shouldn’t I be? Birds chirpin’, sun’s shinin’, got my whole posse of sexy men and woman here. Things are great for Richie Tozier on this fine morning,” he declared, kissing Mike on both cheeks before moving to Bill.

He seemed to be half asleep in his chair, eyelids drooping. “Mornin’, sunshine!” Richie singsonged loudly. Bill grumbled something under his breath, most likely a curse aimed at the other. He ignored it. “Lucky you, Billiam, you get a wakeup kiss!” He crouched to be eye level with him, cupping his face before pulling him into a deep kiss. Bill protested at first simply from exhaustion, but quickly fell into it, arms looping around Richie’s neck. Bev wolf-whistled, making both of them grin. When Richie finally pulled away, he tapped Bill’s cheek. “Awake now?”

Bill glared, begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.” Richie smirked, pecking his lips again before going over to his chair where Eddie already sat. He tapped his hip and Eddie hopped up, barely waiting for Richie to sit down before he was plopping back down on his lap. Richie wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“So, what’s this proposition of Bev’s? If it’s not a sex thing, it better be really good,” he warned.

Beverly huffed. “It is good, Tozier, don’t get your panties in a twist. Y’all ready?” They all looked at her expectantly. She drew it out for a bit longer, enjoying the impatient looks on their faces. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” She clasped her hands together, grinning widely. “We’re going on a road trip!” she announced, bouncing on her toes.

Ben laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t just say we’re going, honey, you’re supposed to ask,” he reminded her with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Bev rolled her eyes. “Fine. May we, pretty please, go on a road trip?” she simpered, clasping her hands together and batting her lashes.

Richie let out a delighted laugh at both the proposition and the edited statement. “Miss Mahsh, ah do believe thayt’s the peachiest idea in the whole goshdurn world!” he replied in a Southern drawl, grinning widely. His leg shook, bouncing Eddie on his lap and making him laugh.

“That Voice was actually better than most, Rich,” Mike observed teasingly before turning to Bev. “That’s an awesome idea, Bev,” he said genuinely. “When do you wanna go?” His hand was around Stan’s waist as he piled pancakes onto a plate, bringing both the plate and Stan over to the table. Richie grabbed one instantly, not waiting for a plate of his own. He rolled it up like a taco and stuffed it in his mouth, making Eddie groan.

“You’re gonna choke, bubba, it’s too early to do the Heimlich,” he complained, but he was smiling. “Let’s do it, Bev!” Stan and Bill also replied with enthusiasm, and Bev clapped her hands excitedly.

“Perfect! Better eat up, boys, because we’re leaving in an hour!” she announced happily.

The kitchen immediately erupted into chaos.

“Richie, stop! You’re seriously gonna choke,” Eddie chastised as Richie stuffed another pancake into his mouth to fuel up before they left.

“You could give me something else to—”

“Don’t!” Eddie’s face turned red. making Richie cackle. “Bev, why didn’t you tell us before? If you wanted us to leave so soon?” She opened her mouth to respond, but Eddie continued, “We gotta get packing! There’s not enough time!” He sounded nervous, and Stan seemed to be on the same page.

“We’ll have to be efficient, but we could pull it off,” Stan reasoned, twirling a blond curl around his finger absentmindedly. “No distractions—that means you two!” He pointed accusedly towards Richie and Eddie, but only Richie noticed.

“Staniel, I am shocked and offended that you’d ever even think such a thing!” Richie blew a kiss his way. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you out. I’ll be a distraction for you, too!”

Stan wasn’t paying attention anymore, too busy mentally planning their itinerary, but Bill answered for him. “I’ll t-take his d-d-distraction, Richie.” He grinned and Richie winked at him.

Mike raised his hand, cocking his head. “Isn’t anyone wondering where we’re going?”

He was barely heard over the rest of them, but Bev responded cheerily, “The journey’s in the trip! Or something like that. C’mon, why don’t we live on the edge?” That seemed to shut the rest of them up and they all turned back to Beverly. She looked pleased with this and continued. “I mean, really. We’ve never done anything really impulsive—”

Eddie snorted. “I think your and Richie’s modeling career—which failed, might I add—could be considered impulsive, but go off.”

Bev rolled her eyes. “That was meant to fail, Eddie, that doesn’t count.” Eddie laughed again but said nothing, which she took as a cue to continue. “It’ll be a really great experience, we’re gonna have so much fun, guys! Please?”

They all looked at her, then at each other, having a silent conversation, then back at her. Bill, ever the leader, stood up and grinned. “Luh-let’s do it.”

Richie pumped his fist in the air. “Road trip!” he crowed, and they all exchanged excited glances this time.

“Road trip!” they cheered.

It had been two days since then, and the Losers were now stopped at a gas station in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The trip had gone mostly smoothly until then. Stan, Mike, and Ben had switched off driving in Ben’s minivan, going basically wherever they felt. There were a few small arguments about how they would sleep, but nothing major had disrupted the trip. Until now.

Eddie crossed his arms, huffing. “Richie, I’m not gonna pay for your cigarettes. It’s not my fault you’re broke and addicted,” he muttered, glaring out the window as Bill filled up the gas tank.

“Hey! I said I’d pay you back. Come on, Eddie-bear, lighten up a little!” Richie teased, reaching over and pinching his cheeks. The nickname had the opposite effect, however. Eddie’s eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he said lowly, and stormed outside, slamming the car door behind him.

“Eds, wait—” Richie called, quickly realizing his mistake, but it was too late. He bit his lip. “Shit.” His head whipped around to the others, who were all watching him with tense expressions. “Should I—” he started, but Stan cut him off.

“I’ll go,” he said shortly, and let himself out of the driver’s seat, following briskly after Eddie. He found the smaller boy watching the slushie machine fill up his cup to the point of overflowing, sticky blue running over his hand. Stan touched his shoulder lightly, and he jumped, spilling slushie on his pink sweater. Eddie turned around then, the tears that had been forming in his eyes now spilling over in pure frustration. Stan’s expression turned soft and he pulled his boyfriend in close, trying his hardest not to grimace at the feeling of the drink seeping into his own shirt. “It’s okay, Eddie,” he whispered, stroking his hair gently.

Eddie’s lip quivered and he buried his face in Stan’s chest. “He knows—he knows he can’t call me that,” he said bitterly, hugging the other tightly.

Stan nodded in agreement. “He does, but you know sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain. I’m not saying that excuses it, though. He shouldn’t have called you that.”

A shuddery sigh. “I just—I hate thinking about her. About what she did to me. And I’ve been able to keep my mind off her for a while now. But then he had to go and open his stupid mouth—” Eddie broke off into a choked sob, making the cashier look away from the TV. Stan shook his head, giving him a smile that he hoped conveyed He’s fine. The cashier raised an eyebrow, but slowly turned back to the TV.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Bug. You know he didn’t mean it. We can stay here as long as you want, but you know he wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?” Stan asked him quietly, holding Eddie’s head to his chest.

Eddie nodded and stayed mostly quiet for the next few minutes, although he let out hiccupy sobs every once in a while. Stan continued to stroke his hair, whispering soft assurances. Eventually, Eddie straightened up, wiping the tears off his face with his non-slushie covered hand. He smiled shakily up at Stan. “Thank you, Stanny,” he said quietly. “Sorry for getting your shirt dirty.”

The taller boy smiled softly, caressing his boyfriend’s cheek. “Of course, babylove. And don’t worry, it’s Bill’s anyway.” Eddie laughed, sniffling as he reached for Stan’s hand. He took it and kissed it, smiling still. “Anyway, purple’s your color.” Stan nodded towards the stained sweater, making Eddie giggle again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Bug. How ‘bout we get you cleaned up and then we’ll go outside, huh? You want me to get you a new shirt?”

Eddie nodded, going into the bathroom after Stan kissed him and left. A year ago, he would’ve had a panic attack over a bathroom like this: grimy, the single fluorescent bulb flickering, and a stain that looked suspiciously like blood spattered on the wall. He was a little freaked, yes, and he wasn’t going to touch anything he didn’t absolutely have to, but he didn’t feel the tightness of his chest that preceded an attack. Just one more of countless ways the Losers had made his life better. They helped him to stop panicking over every little thing, to not be so obsessed about germs and sickness. Eddie still had a healthy respect for it, but not nearly as much of a fear as he used to.

Just then, Eddie caught a glimpse of lettering under the mirror, and leaned in to take a closer look. The graffiti there read MW+WB, EH+MM, and DH+LS, all cramped into a messy Sharpie heart. Eddie smiled a bit to himself. Whoever these initials belonged to, he hoped they were happy. Hoped they were still together. He liked to think they were.

A knock on the door disrupted Eddie’s train of thought. “It’s me, babylove, open up,” came Stan’s soft voice. Eddie grabbed a paper towel and opened the door with it over the handle, smiling when he saw Stan’s shirt selection. It was one of his own, a light yellow polo.

“You’re a sap, Stanley Uris,” Eddie teased, but closed the door behind them both and shimmied out of his shirt. He handed the stained one to Stan and took the polo, putting it on and tucking it into his shorts. It was a little too large on him, but it was soft and smelled like Stan, so he didn’t mind at all. He noticed the other staring at him and blushed. “What?”

Stanley shook his head, smiling. “Nothing...you’re just cute, is all.”

That made Eddie blush even harder. “Shut up, loser,” he teased, pushing up on his toes to meet him in a kiss. “I love you so much,” he whispered once they pulled away.

Stan kissed him again with a smile. “Love you too, Bug. Now, let’s go back out to the car, yeah?” Eddie bit his lip and nodded. “Alright, come on.” The curly-haired boy took his boyfriend’s hand and led him back out to the car.

Richie was pacing in front of the store, running his fingers through his hair. When Eddie came out, he ran to him, but didn’t hug him, too afraid to make him more upset. “Eds, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset, you know I didn’t mean it—”

“I know,” came the soft reply, Eddie toying with the hem of his shorts. Stan kissed him on the temple before heading back to the car, wanting to give them their moment. “It’s okay, bubba. You weren’t thinking.”

Richie breathed a sigh of relief, then pulling Eddie into a hug. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am. I know you don’t like to talk about her—”

“And I still don’t. Just forget it, okay?” Eddie looked up at him, nodding reassuringly. “I promise, Rich, it’s alright.” And to prove it, he looped his arms around his neck and stood up on his tiptoes. It was harder than kissing Stan; Richie was a lot taller than him. But Eddie managed, pulling him down a little to make up the difference. Richie could barely kiss back for how much he was smiling.

“Yowza, Eds! Guess I’m forgiven, then!” Eddie rolled his eyes, kissing him again.

“‘Course you are, I already said that, Rich,” he told him, laughing a little. “Let’s go, yeah? I wanna get far away from that bathroom.” Eddie shuddered at the memory, making Richie laugh, too.

“Alrighty, then! Next stop: Bitchass, Nowhere,” Richie joked, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “A.K.A., wherever Stan decides to take us next.” He opened the door for his boyfriend, bowing low and making him giggle.

“Thank you, my good sir,” Eddie responded to the act, bowing as well before hopping in the car. He could tell the air was thick with tension, all of them holding their breaths. “Guys, it’s okay, I’m fine now, swear.” They all collectively let out a breath and Eddie laughed. “You guys are so not subtle.”

“You can’t really blame us, little bee,” Ben said amiably, reaching in front of him to hold his hand. “You can get...easily riled up.” Even as he spoke, his face was scrunched up in concern that he’d set him off. Eddie turned around and stared at Ben, and everyone sucked in a breath. All of a sudden, he burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry—” he wheezed. “It’s just—you called me bee—and—well—look at me!” Eddie gestured to his yellow shirt and black shorts. It was dumb, but they all found it just as hilarious, and soon they were cracking up with him. The laughter died down but Ben kissed his hand, still laughing softly.

“You’re the cutest, baby,” he whispered, kissing his hand again.

Eddie turned back around, flashing Ben a smile. “I know,” he joked. Richie grabbed onto his other hand and kissed that one, never one to be outdone. Eddie smiled at both of them. He loved all of his boyfriends so much.

“So where are we going, Stanley?” Bev asked, poking her head out from behind Eddie’s seat. Stan turned around and stretched to hand her the map.

“There’s a town on our way out of Indiana that looks kinda cute,” Stan responded, turning back and pulling out of the gas station. “It’s called Hawkins.”

tag list: @bylerhearts @blushinstanley @cozystanlon @marshembers

[finn-got-tall]

Missing Pieces II/III

part I

A week. A week was all it took. It was easier than searching through police records and adoption agencies. He got Eleven to look. To find him.

It wasn’t easy at first because the only picture he had of him was as a baby. And he didn’t know which baby was him. But she found him. As she always did. And so. She gave him two locations. And a name.

New York City

And Derry, Maine

In the next few days he packed a bag and booked a flight to Maine.

Richard k. Wheeler

Adopted by Wentworth and Margaret Tozier 

Derry, Maine

Names. A place. Holy shit. He was so close. So he took the trip to Derry.

It was June when he found the small town. He felt odd here, like something bad had happened, but he was used to that feeling. It was the same one he got when he walked down Mirkwood. Or anywhere in Hawkins really.

He checked with town hall. A couple people on the street. And a store window. ‘Wentworth Tozier DDS’ in big bold letters. A dentist! That meant Richie was into science right? Maybe? Hopefully. So he went in.

“Richie, I thought you said you would never come back here.” A stern voice spoke. Mike turned to the sound. A tall man, not taller than him, with glasses and short hair.

“Oh, you must be Dr. Tozier. I understand this must be confusing, but my name is Michael Wheeler, I’m looking for your son, Richard.” Mike stuck his hand out for the man to shake. But he only glanced at it.

“Wheeler.” He muttered under his breath. “He’s not here.”

“Do you have any idea where he could be, sir?” He retracted his hand and stuffed it in his pocket awkwardly.

“New york I think, he’s off playing pretend at some fag college.” Mike was taken aback at his statement. Sure he’d heard the word, he’d been called it all his life, but to hear a father talk of his son that way. It wasn’t that unbelievable after he thought about it. There was a reason he wasn’t out. “Look, you seem like a decent kid. Look a helluva lot like Richard, but don’t bother with him.” And that was all he said.

Mike walked out of that office knowing his brother lived like shit with that man. Not even five minutes and he could tell why Richie said he would never come back.

And during that same week in New York, Richie was going to audition after audition. Working late hours. Trying to make enough money to help Bev pay rent. It was all too much. All the stress was being built up and stored away. It felt heavy. Like stones on his shoulders. Beverly noticed the toll it took on the boy. So one night she told him to stop.

“Richie, you motherfucker. We are going to watch all of the fucking Molly Ringwald movies there are, and i'm going to do your makeup, and we are going to relax, okay?” At first he refused, telling her he was fine. But eventually gave in. He couldn't say no to her.

So they watched movies and drank beer, beverly painted his eyelids blue and they laughed when Richie told her that gave a whole new meaning to blue balls. But now they were here, curled up into each other on the floor in front of the couch.

The dust had settled and they were on maybe the third movie when they heard a knock on the door. Bev set aside his beer and stood up. “Pizza!” She cheered. But then everything slowed when she looked through the peephole and saw a far too familiar face. She looked at the back of Richie’s head over her shoulder with a look of pure confusion. And she slowly opened the door.

“Hi, my name is Mike Wheeler, I’m looking for Richard Tozier.” Mike said looking down at the fire girl.

“Um- of course, one sec. R-Richie!” She shouted with a shaky voice over her shoulder. Mike felt his whole world slow down as well, this was it. 20 years. His chest felt heavy, heart beating in his ears so loudly he almost didn’t hear the next words she spoke. “I’m Beverly.” She told Mike.

And Richie showed up beside her, not having looked up at their guest quite yet. And Mike looked him over. Ripped up jeans, an ACDC, tee and an old hawaiian shirt with the buttons falling off; hair in a very messy and loose bun and blue painted eyelids is what stood before him.

“Pizza?” he asked Beverly with a goofy grin before turning his head to see his own face. But hair combed through and shorter, a button up shirt tucked into a pair of light blue pants with nice clean sneakers to pull it all together. He fucking looked like Stanley. “Holy fuck you have my face.” He laughed before realizing what was actually happening. “Holy fuck.” This time the words came out as a whisper.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Mike.” And Richie pulled the boy into a hug. It was tight and full of love. It took a second for Mike to hug back as the embrace was a surprise. But it was also tight, full of everything. Mike felt like his whole world had been taken from him when he found out about Richie. But Richie just assumed he wasn’t wanted. So when Mike showed up at his front door he felt all of it, everything he never felt. He was standing with someone who shared his blood.

They didn’t even notice the flash of Beverly’s polaroid camera. All they cared about was the fact that for the first time in 20 years they were together. How Mike no longer felt empty. Richie was that missing piece.

He was finally here.

Tag list for missing pieces:

@disney-official @smol-and-annoying @reddieformileven @snowmanuris @kaspbrakstozier @theliteraltrash @exxervescence @nocapesyd @everheardofastaphinfection @spicytozier @obsessionistx @deux-mille-deux @caleidoscopecolors @theres-no-going-home @reusisdrug @greywatertozier @turtleneckrichie @thotty-wise @gee-from-room-708-is-not-on-fire @gczebos @metaphoric-blast @richie-tczier @tomorrowtempley @drunkrichietozier @barlowbarlowbarlow @of-outerspace @all-things-stranger @tephrotetra98 @welctothelosersclub @somanyfandomspleasesendhelp @kaitlynnrambles @gazebhoes @ihavesympathyforthedevil @stansmansuris @nintxndos@trashmouthdiangelo@all-things-stranger

[coyoteweird]

Sleep In The Heat - Chapter Two

So sorry this took so long, I was stuck on the very ending for some reason but finally got it! 

Sleep In The Heat - Chapter Two 

Summary:  

Persephonie's Children is a punk rock band comprised of homeless teens traveling around the country. 

When they travel to Derry, Maine, their lives are changed.

At least they befriend three local losers to help them out.

Warnings: None, mostly fluff with a bit of angst mixed in

Word Count: 6883

Dinner between Sonya and Eddie Kaspbrak was surprisingly quiet. Usually it was filled with chatter from Eddie, detailing his day and friends and events at school. Sonya would add her own stories about the events of her day at work. Today was different.

Eddie was already showered in his pajamas, a pair he’d stolen from Bill a few months before when his own clothes had been soaked from swimming. His hair smelled like his favorite strawberries and cream shampoo and his face was scrubbed clean, not a single blemish, zit, or blackhead adorned his face. Usually, if Eddie was displaying this sort of behavior, it would be off to the E.R., sure that he was suffering some deadly illness that would rip her boy away from her right before her very eyes. But he seemed to be glowing, smiling softly. He must have just had a busy day while playing at Bill’s house. So, she decided to leave it and let him eat, as long as he took his medicine and finished his broccoli.

She simply detailed the story that Brenda from PR told her about Brian from marketing and how he started crying at his desk because his supervisor told him that his ad promoting their new blood pressure medication was missing something. Eddie nodded and even giggled at the way his mother described the crying but didn’t add any of his usual comments.

When Eddie finished his meal, he went to immediately go upstairs to go to sleep, but his mother stopped him, frown etched onto her face.

“Eddie Bear, don’t forget to take your medicine! Don’t want you getting any more sick; with you out running amuck with those boys.” Sonya says, and Eddie rolls his eyes at the way she talks about his friends before turning back into the kitchen.

“Sorry mommy, just want to read the next chapter of Jurassic Park before I go to sleep.” Eddie says, pulling out the pill box, colored purple to signify night dose.

“Well, don’t stay up too late. Sleep helps to keep you healthy and fight off illness.” Sonya says, smiling as he swallows the various, multicolored pills with a large gulp of water from the sink, rakes her fingers through Eddie hair, now curling at the ends.

Sonya notices the curling and frowns, a memory from when she was Eddie’s own age flashes for a moment, but she pushes it away.

“Eddie Bear, you need a haircut. Your hair is getting long, and it’s easier to get lice from one of those kids at school or even at the Aladdin. I never trusted those nasty velvet chairs…” Sonya says, her face twisted in disgust.  

“I’ll be fine, mommy. Don’t worry, I’ll get it cut.” Eddie says with a smile, and Sonya smiles back.

“Well, I’m taking my medication and getting to sleep. You know how they make me sleep like a rock. Goodnight, Eddie Bear.” Sonya says, grabbing her own purple pill box.

“NIght mommy!” Eddie says, clammering up the stairs.

As soon as Eddie heard the squeaking of his mother’s old box spring and obnoxious snores filled the air, Eddie sprang into action. In the blink of an eye, he jumped out of his bed, where he had been pretending to sleep in case his mother checked up on him before she went to sleep, and stripped.

He had his outfit planned since he got home yesterday. He couldn’t show up in the clothes he would wear to the Barrens. No, tonight was special. They were going to a concert for the first time. Well, Bill and Stan had been to concerts before, but not Eddie. His mom would have a heart attack simply at the idea. The sound could damage his eardrums! The amount of people all on top of each other sweating! Not to mention the drugs and cigarettes that people did at these concerts would irritate his asthma. At least, that’s what she claimed when at twelve years old, Eddie had begged to see Madonna when she was playing in Portland, only an hour away from Derry. He had cried embarrassingly hard in bed when she yelled at him for asking, not that anyone besides himself knew that.

But that was five years ago and now he was going to a concert.

Once he finished dressing himself, he looked at his outfit in the mirror. These light wash jeans were his favorite. They were loose where they should be, but just the right amount of tight in the places that mattered. His baby pink oversized sweater was tucked loosely into the jeans and the sleeves were cuffed comfortably at the elbows. His favorite part though, were  his shoes. The white strappy heels added an extra two inches and dammit, they made him feel powerful. He wasn’t insecure of his height, but the extra inches that the heels provided gave him a little boost every so often.

He had started to dress feminine beyond the confines of his house about a year ago. His mother enjoyed it when he wore feminine things, saying they made him look pretty and how it was an easy way for them to connect. But she wasn’t the biggest fan of him wearing it outside the house. She only tried to steer him from it once, warning about other people's perception. But he wanted to feel pretty and he wasn’t scared of what Bowers or anyone else had to say about it. (Not necessarily true, but he wouldn’t let a few bruises and dirty looks get to him)

He looked at the clock and saw he only had twenty minutes before he had to meet Bill and Stan in his driveway and quickly sat at his desk. From underneath, he pulled out a small box. Inside was an array of makeup that Eddie had built up, with the help of his mother of course. He didn’t want to over do it, so he did a more minimal look, accenting his features. As he painted his face precisely, he could feel the confidence he got while doing his makeup compete with the nervousness he felt when he thought of tonight. While Bill and Stan completely supported Eddie and were by now unfazed by his feminine tendencies (as his mother called it), he had no idea what the others would think. They had only known them for a day, would they hate him, even try to hurt him? He shook the thought from his head, if he got into that mindset now, the entire night would be ruined.

Once he was finished, he sprayed his face to make sure no matter how much he sweat at the bar, his makeup wouldn’t budge. He then grabbed his house key and tip toes out the front door. Sure enough, Bill and Stan were talking quietly at the end of the driveway, next his neighbor's rose bushes. Bill was going on about something that Eddie couldn’t hear. Stan had a soft smile on his face, a faint blush across his cheeks. Eddie rolled his eyes. The pair were so in love and didn’t even realize it. It was adorable and sickening. Eddie was just grateful that the years of friendship never allowed him to feel like a third wheel, the trio were best friends, and the increasing romantic feelings between two of them couldn’t change that.

“H-Hey Eddie, y-y-you look good!” Bill said once he eyes Eddie approaching.

“With the amount of time spent getting ready, I’d hope so.” Stan deadpans and the trio laughs.

“Beauty isn’t easy or quick, Stan. We need to look good if we’re going to get in.” Eddie says as the begin the walk toward the center of town wear the bar was.

“I’m s-s-sure we’ll b-b-be fine.” Bill says but Stan rolls his eyes.

“Yes, it’s the bouncers you’re trying to impress and not at all Richie.” Stan retorts, causing Eddie to turn bright red.

“Stan! I do not have a crush on the trashmouth! And you are not one to talk about crushes.” Eddie retorts making Stan’s eyes widen.

“Y-Y-You h-have a c-crush on s-someone?” Bill asks, hurt that Stan would tell Eddie and not Bill.

“No, I do not. Eddie is just deflecting so he can deny his obvious crush.” Stan says.

Bill changes the topic, not wanting to deal with whatever this is. They talk a bit about their summer plans and mostly about if they’ll get into the bar. None of them had the desire to drink, they simply wanted to watch the band. Hopefully the bouncers will believe them.

Eddie feels a bit guilty for sneaking out. If his mother knew he had snuck off to go to a bar to see a punk band comprising of a group of homeless teens, he was pretty sure she would die on the spot. But he always did what she wanted. Tonight he was doing something for him.  

Meanwhile, at Tempe Tavern, the members of Persephone’s Children were getting ready for their performance. Mike and Ben were setting up the speakers and other tech equipment with the help of a mostly lost waitress. They whizzed around the small stage, plugging things in here and carrying equipment there. Bev was talking to the bartender, and from where Richie is, he can see she she is leaning towards the man, no older than 20; her signature I want something so I’m going to flirt it out of you smile plastered to her face. Richie was sitting on the stage, he legs dangling off and his guitar in his lap. He was in charge of tuning his and Bev’s guitars as well as Mike’s bass. While he strummed the strings of his guitar, listening to the slight change in tune as he plucks each string, he decides to listen in on Bev’s conversation.

“This place is already more crowded than I thought! For such a small town, it’s already filling up.” Bev says and the bartender lets out a deep laugh.

“Sure, Derry is small but people come from all around to Tempe. Rock is everywhere but not many places in south Maine cater to it. We’re one of the few, hence our popularity. It gets pretty rowdy in here.” He says, cleaning glasses to be sure they’d be ready when customers started swarming as the band played.

“That’s amazing, I love this place already. The shows gonna be awesome! I just hope that my friends can see it. Should be a sight!” She says, leaning just that much closer to the man.

“Any friend of yours should be fine!” The man says, eyes straying from Bev’s face; Richie scrunches his nose.

“I hope so! They’re from in town but I’m afraid they won’t get it. I’d ask the bouncer but I don’t know him…” Bev says, eyeing the man.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it! What are their names? Hey, Tommy, get over here!” The man yells and Richie rolls his eyes.

Richie loved Bev, but sometimes she can be too nice. She had a contingency for helping people, even if it puts her at risk. It was sweet, but Richie was not like that. Why bother? People only ask for help because they are using you. Once they get what they want, they move on and leave you in the dust.

“Alright Lassy, have a right time flirting with the bloke over there?” Richie says in a voice that is an obvious attempt at irish but sounds more like an off Richie.

“I was making sure the Bill, Stan, and Eddie can get in without the bouncer kicking them to the curb. My plan was a success.” Bev responds, ignoring Richie’s terrible voice.

“That’s awesome! They seemed cool.” Ben says, not only happy that Bev is happy, but happy to make friends in general.

“I think they’ll enjoy the show. They seem like they’d be down.” Mike adds before returning his focus to the amp that was just a second slower than the rest.

“Was that really necessary?” Richie asks, not looking up from the guitar.

“Uh, duh, Richie. What if they wouldn’t let them in? I mean, they definitely don’t look 18.” Bev says as if Richie just asked if the earth was flat.  

“Do you think they’re even gonna fucking show? I mean, they didn’t seem like they go to punk shows on the reg. Eddie would have a fucking conniption at the mention of a house gig. I think he would actually drop dead with a goddamn aneurysm.” Richie says, laughing but Bev saw right through it.

“They’ll come. They wouldn’t have said they would if they weren’t. They don’t seem the type. Richie…” Bev tries to talk to him about it but Richie cuts her off before she could.

“These assholes are about as punk as my pinky toe. No way would those three classic american boys be caught dead here. I’m more focused on what babe I’ll be fucking tonight. I mean, look at all the-” Richie starts but Ben cuts him off.

“Beep. Beep, Richie.” And the moment is forgotten and before they can think to bring it back up, they are starting.

Bev, being the fiery soul she is, starts the introductions, saying who played what and the band’s name. While Mike strummed his bass and Ben smashed his drums, Richie’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching everywhere for the trio (definitely not especially Eddie, nope). He laughed at the things Bev said about him and played a quick solo but still searched. The trio were nowhere to be found, the light may have been bright, but the room was small enough for Richie to be able to see that they were nowhere in sight.

As they went straight into the first song, Bev scanned the crowd for their new friends, disappointed that they weren’t there. But, they were only starting and even she could see the line in the window. There was still plenty of time for the boys to make their way in. But, as she belted out the first verse of the song, she turned to Richie and felt like her heart was being squeezed. The utter devastation written all over his face made her want to drop her guitar and wrap him in a hug.

It was no secret that Richie was the most guarded of the four of them. While all four had shitty pasts, Richie’s had to be the worst. He rarely ever shared anything from before they lived in Mike’s van; but from the snippets Bev got out of him, it was a horror show that matched and maybe surpassed her own horrors. The two are closer; close enough to consider each other siblings, even if there is no blood relation. But, that wasn’t the case at first. It took an entire month for them to have a conversation. So, when she saw how eager Richie was the help the boys, she was surprised. He had let his walls down just a bit for these boys and seeing them not there broke his heart, which broke Bev’s.

At the same time, Bill, Stan, and Eddie all waited on line outside the Tempe Tavern, eager to get in as the show had already started.

“I can’t believe we’re missing it! We’re gonna miss the whole thing and look like complete jerks!” Eddie said, his anxiety only skyrocketing as the line shuffled forward slowly.

“W-We’re n-n-not g-gonna miss i-it, Eddie. T-T-There a-are only s-s-six p-people a-ahead of us.” Bill said, but his increased stutter revealed his own nervousness.

“Both of you are way too high strung about this. It’s just a show in a bar in Derry. This isn’t the House of Blues.” Stan says, rolling his eyes at his two idiot friends.

“I will not be shown up by Richie! I said that I would be here and dammit I’m getting in there even if I have to climb the goddamn roof!” Eddie says, face red from yelling.

“IDs.” The bouncer says, interrupting the trio who hadn’t realized they made it to the front of the line yet.

“W-W-We’re n-not h-here to d-d-drink, w-we’re just h-here for the b-band.” Bill says and the bouncer has an unimpressed look on the face.

“Sure, you and every other kid in town. Next!” the bouncer says and two people shove2 the three forward.

“Seriously, we don’t drink. You can have someone watch us for all we care.” Stan says, trying to help.

“I have better things to do than babysit all night.” The bouncer says.

“We’re friends with the band! If you just asked then th-” Eddie started frantically but was cut off by the bouncer snapping his head to the trio with an alarmed expression. “Wait, what are you names?” The bouncer asks, the three boys give each other a look before complying.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! Come in! I didn’t realize you were on the list! The band specifically asked for you!” The bouncer yelled, pulling the boys inside like rag dolls.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I really need this job. Don’t worry about the cover, it’s on the house. Have a nice night, boys!” The bouncer yells as he shoves the shocked boys inside.

“T-Told y-you we would g-get in.” Bill says smiling and leading his way through the crowd, Eddie and Stan following closely.

“Are you sure we’re still in Derry? This place is actually crowded.” Stan says, looking around with a grimace.

“I can’t believe we were on the list…” Eddie says, attempting to ignore the flutter in his chest.

Eddie scanned the crowd around him, seeing how packed the bar was and how he didn’t recognize most of the people in it. To be fair, he has never been to a bar before. But a large portion of these people were definitely not from Derry. A majority of them, dressed like Bev and Richie and for a moment Eddie felt out of place. But, as they made their way closer to the stage, Eddie saw the band and quietly gasped.

Ben was banging the drums, a concentrated look on his face, his shirt already showing signs of him sweating under the lights. Mike had a smile on his face, nodding his head to the tune he played for the others. Bev had a bright smile, seeming to buzz as she played her bright pink guitar. Then there was Richie. Richie was actually jumping along with the song, playing his guitar so fast that Eddie couldn’t keep up with the movements of his fingers. Richie and Eddie locked eyes for a moment, just as the song was ending and Richie seemed to light up like the sun. Eddie smiled in return, the back of his mind cataloging the lack of judgement on Richie’s face. Quite the opposite, he seemed ecstatic that they had made it. It was a bit overwhelming for Eddie and he turned to look at the smirking faces of his friends, his face turning red again.

Richie turned to Bev, his smile from ear to ear and he seemed to buzz with excitement. She returned the smile, happy to see her new friends and happy that Richie is out of his funk. Sure, to anyone besides the band, he was happy and charged up. But they could see the disappointment radiating off of him. But as soon as Bill, Stan, and Eddie walked through the door, it was like he was struck by lightning. As they finished the song, Richie looked Eddie in the eyes once more and spoke into the microphone.

“Damn, Bev, this place sure knows how to pack a room. Look at all these fuckers!” Richie says with a smile, the crowd cheers and Bev laughs.

“They sure do, Richie!” Bev responds.

“Well, this one goes out to all our new friends tonight! This is Fake Smiles and Nervous Laughter. Hope you enjoy it.” Richie yelled and the band immediately started playing the song.

It was risky to play it so soon, seeing as Richie had only written it the night before. It was rare for Richie to create almost an entire song so quickly. He begged the others to learn it and play tonight, so they agreed to play it in the beginning of the set after practicing the whole day. It couldn’t hurt and it was a fun song. Throughout the song, Richie would stare at Eddie before focusing on Bev and Mike, and it did not go unnoticed by anyone. Eddie fails to hide his blood red face and wide smile behind his hands, which also does not go unnoticed.  

“He keeps staring at you, Eddie.” Stan states and Eddie barely registers he said anything, too focused on the band (Richie).   

“Y-Y-Yeah, he a-already has a c-c-crush on y-y-you, Eddie!” Bill says, a smile spreading across his face.

“He doesn’t have a crush on me. He’s just performing.” Eddie yells over the crowd, starting to dance a bit.

Stan and Bill share a knowing look before begrudgingly dancing alongside Eddie.

The show was amazing. Absolutely amazing. Eddie didn’t know if this was like any other concert or just this concert, but Eddie loved it. The music was so loud this is body felt like it was shaking. The people were all jumping around and dancing, their sweaty bodies colliding. The smoke from cigarettes and maybe something else was wafting through the air. Eddie loved every second of it. He felt like his body was on fire. He couldn’t stop laughing, and at times he sang along as if he knew that words. If this was how concerts were, then he wanted to go to them all the time.

Bill and Stan saw how enthralled with everything Eddie was, and they were completely surprised. They thought that Eddie would be dying to get out, away from all the people and smoke and sweat. But the boy looked like he was having the time of his life. Sure, Bill and Stan had gone to a few concerts with their families and even each other. But this was Eddie’s first. They were sure they looked like Eddie at their first concert.

Eventually, after an hour and a half, the show ended. The energy of the crowd died down and  people started to disperse. This did not mean, however, that Eddie calmed down at all.

“Come on, guys! We have to go say hi!” Eddie yelled, grabbing his friend's hands and dragging them up to the stage. A small crowd, much smaller than before, gathered by the stage talking to the band as the packed away all their equipment. But that didn’t stop Eddie from barreling his way through to talk to them.

Richie was packing the guitars away into their cases when he heard Eddie pushing his way closer. At first he thought he was imagining it until he turned to look.

“Excuse me! Pardon! Oops! Making my way through!” Eddie yelled, pushing past the other people with an unapologetic look on his face.

“Eddie!” Richie says, smiling and rushing over the the edge of the stage to talk to them.

“Richie! Oh my god, that was amazing! Like, holy shit! You said you were in a band but you didn’t say you were actually good! Better than good! Amazing!” Eddie yelled, practically jumping off the walls, the biggest smile on his face.

“Glad you liked it, Eddie Spaghetti. We just knew we had to put on a good show with such a babe in the audience!” Richie replies and if his heart is fluttering at Eddie’s words, he doesn’t tell anyone.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!” Eddie yells with absolutely no malice in his tone.

“Y-You g-guys were g-g-great, Richie!” Bill says.

“You were fine.” Stan adds, in Stan talk that was a great compliment.

“Thanks guys! That means a lot!” Bev responds from behind Richie.

“Hey Bev! You have such an amazing voice! Like, the way you sing in contrast to how you play the guitar is amazing!” Eddie says, and Bev laughs loudly.

“Wow, Eddie, thanks! I can see you enjoyed it!” Bev says, her smile as bright as ever.

“Enjoyed it? You’d think he just did crack! The kid’s ecstatic!” Richie says and Eddie smacks his leg.

“I had fun! That was just great! How Mike and Ben seem to mesh and you two bounce off of each other and how it all blends together! I loved it! Not my usual music but still, pretty freaking amazing!” Eddie went on, causing Richie to blush and Bev to snicker.

“We should be done packing away the instruments. Most of it is staying here for tomorrow’s show so it should only take a few minutes! Why don’t you get a booth and we’ll all meet you over there!” Bev says and Eddie is charging off to find a big enough table.

“Your boy toy seemed very impressed, Richie.” Bev says before walking away to finish up.

“He is not my boy toy!” Richie yells and scrambles to follow.

True to her word, the band didn’t take longer than ten minutes to meet them at the table, drinks in hand.

“We made it, bitches!” Richie yelled, throwing himself into the booth across from Eddie.

“And we brought drinks!” Ben says, handing out bottles of coke.

“You guys were just amazing! That was crazy!” Eddie burst out and everyone laughs.

“Thanks Eddie, I’m glad you had fun!” Mike says, sliding in after Bev.

“Y-Y-Yeah! Y-You guys are t-t-talented!” Bill says.

“Not bad.” Stan says and all four smile.

“Thanks! We had a ton of fun! We had no idea it would get this crazy. Felt a lot like a house gig. Our bar gigs are usually a lot less crowded.” Ben says with a smile.  

“God, those must be crazy! I’ve never had this much fun in my life.” Eddie says, his smile looking like it’ll break his face.

“Jesus, Eds, are you this hyper after every concert or are we just that special?” Richie jokes,

“I don’t know, this is my first one!” Eddie says, still buzzing with excitement.

“Wow, at the bright age of 16, Persephone’s Children has taken the concert v-card of the one and only Eddie Kaspbrak. This is a day that’ll live in infamy.” Richie says and everyone laughs again.

For a while, all seven of them just hang out at the table and laugh. Bev and Richie smoke a bit, but no one seems to mind just then. They were all having fun in each other’s company and riding out the thrill of the show until they all run out of drinks and can feel their mouth's getting dry. So, after a particularly bad mom joke, Richie is deemed responsible to get everyone another coke.

“What? Why do I have to get it. I’m all the way on the inside!” Richie yells.

“Because that was a terrible joke, asshole!” Eddie yells.

“Fine, but I want my seat when i get back!” Richie yells and the others move so he can get out.

After fifteen minutes, Richie still hadn’t returned. Eddie was growing restless. He claimed that he just wanted his drink, but really, he was worried. They were in a bar after all, anything could happen.

“I’m gonna go look for him.” Eddie declares standing up.

“Seriously, Eddie. He’ll probably be over any second.” Stan says, rolling his eyes.

“I swear, Stanley. If you make me crawl on the disgusting floor, I’m going to kick your ass.” Eddie says with a glare and Bill and Stan let him out.

He walks towards the bar, fully intending to ask the bartender if he’d seen Richie when he sees him. Richie was leaning his back against the bar, elbows resting over the ledge. He had a lazy smile on his face, eyes half-lidded. In front of him was a tall guy, at least Mike’s height. He was wearing clothing similar to Richie’s but much cleaner. He was practically pressing himself into Richie, smirking and eying him like he was a dog and Richie was a piece of meat. Seven bottle of coke surrounded Richie and Eddie swore he was seeing red. Who the hell was this creep all over Richie?

“Jesus, Richie. We’ve been waiting for our drinks, asshole.” Eddie says glaring at the stranger.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were with people.” The guy says, giving Eddie a look.

“Well, I didn’t perform all on my lonesome, stranger. It was nice chatting with you.” Richie says in a terrible attempt at a southern accent.

“If you wanted to flirt with some guy, least you could do was bring the drinks first.” Eddie says, leaning to grab a few of the bottles.

“Don’t worry Eds, I only got my eyes on the cute ones.” Richie says with a wink, grabbing some of the bottles. Then he says something unexpected.

“I really like your outfit. It suits you well.” Richie says, eyeing Eddie up and down.

He could barely tear his eyes away from the exposed collarbones, littered with freckles and beauty marks, To his small feet wrapped in pretty white heels. To the light blue jeans hugging him in just the right places, leaving Richie with images to think about later.

“Oh, uh, thanks Richie.” Eddie says, blushing at the comment.

“Are you wearing make-up?” Richie asks and Eddie tenses a bit.

“Yeah, I like to wear it sometimes.” Eddie says, refusing to lie but a bit afraid of his reaction.

When Richie noticed the sharp black eyeliner framing his eyes, he was pretty sure his heart stopped. His cheekbones were painted with a pink and gold shimmer. His eyebrows seemed a bit darker, more perfect. His eyelashes were inky and thick, curled more than yesterday.

“It’s beautiful, Eds. You should practice on me sometime.” Richie half joked.

“Maybe it’ll make-up for all the terrible jokes.” Eddie says, smiling and Richie gasps.

“Edward! How dare you! Not only did you insult my amazing humor, but with a pun!” Richie says, and the pair laughs.

Once they’re all back in there seats and talking and joking again, Eddie notices. There next to the table as if he belonged there, was the dog that had been patched up only days before.

“Why the hell is that dog here?” Stan asks, confused.

“Oh, Pup?” Richie asks as if it’s completely normal for a huge dog to be sitting in a bar… with headphones on.

“Don’t ask. I woke up this morning to them all cuddled up and they’ve been attached at the hip since.” Bev says and Richie blushes deeply.

“I’m not even surprised.” Stan says and everyone laughs.

Eddie doesn’t though, he has a soft smile on his face. Eddie didn’t think it was weird or embarrassing, it was honestly sweet. Sure, maybe sleeping with a stray dog is a bit questionable, but the sentiment is still there. For the short amount of time that Eddie had known him, Richie seemed keep a front of not caring and not being serious, so this was a sneak peak at a different side of him that Eddie hoped he would see more of.

Eddie’s moment does not go unnoticed. Bev, who sat next to an oblivious Richie, noticed this off look on Eddie’s face. She could barely keep it to herself, but she did. She was conflicted. She wanted Richie to be happy, he was her brother after all. She wanted him to have good things in his life. But they were only in Derry for another day, then they were back on the road to nowhere. She wanted Richie to be happy, but will him getting attached then having to leave would just make things worse. She didn’t know so she kept her thoughts to herself. This one would be for Richie to figure out.

After a few hours, well into the early morning, the bar closes and the seven are forced to separate. Stan was sleeping over Bill’s house, the whole reason he could go in the first place, so they were walking the opposite direction of Eddie’s house. Bev, Mike, and Ben all get into the car to drive back to field but Richie doesn’t get into the car.

“Richie you coming?” Mike asks, confused.

“Nah, me and Pup are gonna walk Eddie home. I’ll see you later.” Richie says.

“You don’t have to walk me home. I’ll be fine.” Eddie says, faking annoyance but touched.

“And miss some good ol’ alone time with my Eddie Spaghetti? No way!” Richie says and Eddie punches his arm lightly and they start the walk.

They walked in silence for a moment, Pup trotting along in between them. Eddie reached down and petted the top of her head.

“Are you really gonna keep her?” Eddie asked, looking at Richie.

“Of course! I can’t just leave her out on her own. She doesn’t seem to want to be left either. Guess I’m stuck with her.” Richie said, scratching behind her ears.

“Do you have dog food?”

“Uh, we have food? She mostly likes beef jerky.” Richie answers.

“Richie! She’s a dog! She needs actual dog food not road trip snacks!” Eddie says exasperated.

“How do I get dog food?” Richie asks, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment.

He was well aware that he probably couldn’t afford dog food. They couldn’t even afford gas. Dog food was expensive.

“Hm… leave it to me. I’m sure Bill could come up with some plan to get it.” Eddie answers after a moment of thinking.

“Is his brother really missing?” Richie says without really thinking, wanting to face palm when he realizes what he said.

Eddie takes a deep breath before answering, his steps slowing just a bit. But, before Richie can tell him nevermind, Eddie responds.

“They had a funeral for Georgie but… they never actually found him. He was playing with a paper boat out in the rain. They say he got swept up into the storm drains. There was blood all over the street leading into the drain. After six months, they buried an empty casket.” Eddie says, his voice lacking it’s normal spark.

“Jesus that is tough. How come he is still looking for him?”

“He doesn’t believe Georgie’s dead. At least, he doesn’t want to believe. Stan and I know that Georgie isn’t wandering around the woods, but we can’t just tell him that. It would kill him…” Eddie trails off.

Richie doesn’t really know how to respond. A completely inappropriate joke pops into his head but he lights a cigarette before it can leave his mouth.

“You do know those things can kill you, right?” Eddie says, his nose scrunched up and Richie thinks it makes his heart stop.

“Lots of things can kill you, Eds. Are you gonna let that stop you from living life?” Richie asks, taking a long drag and blowing it out away from Eddie, remembering his little blue inhaler.

“Yeah, well I’d like to spend the rest of my life actually living and not gasping for breathe in some shitty hospital bed.” Eddie says, glaring at Richie.

“Fuck, Eds. That was dark as shit.” Richie says, but drops the cigarette and puts it out with his foot.

“You’ll thank me in twenty years when you can still jump around on stage without getting out of breath before the first song ends.” Eddie says, a small smile on his face again.

“I’ll only thank you if you’re there to see it.” Richie says with a smirk, but Eddie can see the uncertainty in his eyes. They really give him away.

“If all your shows are like tonight, then definitely.” Eddie says, a bright smile on his face.

“You really did enjoy it, didn’t you!” Richie teases and Eddie blushes.

“I’ve never been to a concert before…” Eddie mumbles.

“Holy shit, really Eds? That is a crime against humanity! Everyone needs to go to concerts! They give you just about the best feeling in the world!” Richie exclaims.

“I’m sure I can think of a few other things that can give the best feeling in the world.” Eddie says with a smirk, this time Richie blushes.

“Wow, Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one. I’m rubbing off on you already!” Richie says and they both laugh loudly, not caring about the time.

Before the realized, they were standing outside of Eddie’s house. Eddie notices that no lights are on, meaning his mom slept through the night. Thank god.

“This is me…” Eddie says as he walks up the small set of steps with Richie.

“I guess this is goodnight, my dearest Edward.” Richie says using an attempt at a british accent.

Eddie and Richie stand face to face at the front door in silence; Richie fiddles with his glasses and Eddie pulls out his key. Eddie unlocks the door, but just before he turns the doorknob he does the unexpected.

“Night, Trashmouth.” Eddie says, and kisses Richie softly on the cheek.

Richie’s skin turns bright red and before he can say anything, Eddie rushes inside. Instead of rushing upstairs into his room, Eddie spies on Richie through his front windows curtains. Richie is standing in the same spot he was in moments ago. His hand is lightly brushing his cheek where Eddie had kissed him. He had the biggest, goofiest smile on his face. After a few moments, he seemed to realize he was just standing on Eddie’s porch and turned to face his dog.

“Holy shit! Pup did you see that! He kissed my fucking cheek! I am never washing this cheek again!” Richie exclaims, practically skipping off the porch and down the street.

Eddie laughs softly. This boy is too much for him.

Eddie quietly heads up to his bedroom, making sure to skip the sixth step that always made a high pitched squeak. He shut his door as slow and quiet as he could, then quickly stripped. He put the pajamas he has on before he left and wiped the makeup off with the wipes he mother bought him. Just as he settled into bed and shut his eyes, smile still plastered onto his face, his mother opened the door.

“Eddie Bear, why are you up? It’s nearly five in the morning?” His mother asked, voice thick with concern.

“I just had to go to the bathroom, mommy. Sorry for waking you.” He easily lies.

“Alright Eddie Bear. Sleep well.” With that, his mom goes back to her own bedroom.

Eddie closes his eyes again. He brings his hand to his lips, fingertips just barely brushing against them. Richie’s skin was surprisingly soft and just a little bit sweaty. Eddie loved it.

Sure, Eddie knew that Richie wasn’t going to be in Derry forever and he should probably at least try to protect his feelings, but he didn’t want to think about that just yet. He was happy. He’d never met someone like Richie and Derry wasn’t the most accepting place. So he’ll take this little summer love and treasure it.

Richie watched the sun rise in the distance, just beyond the field. He decided he was too amped up to go sleep in the blanket on the field just yet. So, he and Pup continued to slowly walk through Derry. By the time he was walking down the road towards the field, the sun was almost finished rising. He took this time the think.

They were only going to be in Derry a few more days, and that’s never bothered him before. They didn’t live the kind of life that allowed you to really settle down. He was always in a new place with new people, besides the others at least. But now he’s met Eddie and a piece of him wished his life had been different. For the first time in a long time, he wished he had a normal life. He wished he was a normal seventeen year old instead of a homeless runaway. He actually wanted something with Eddie, was willing to try. Sure, being close to someone scared the shit out of him, but Eddie made him feel like maybe he can deal with that fear.

Eddie had kissed him! Right on the cheek even though he hadn’t properly bathed and was a bit sweaty from the show. He kissed his check so softly, he thought he might burst. It was perfect and Richie wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Richie was so focused on his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the low rumble of a car behind him. He didn’t even realize he wasn’t alone until suddenly, his arms were being grabbed from behind him. It was all so fast, he didn’t even realise what was going on. One second he was thinking about a kiss to the cheek by a pretty boy; next he was being pulled into a car by four pissed off older teens. He could hear Pup barking viciously just outside the door and someone cursing her out. He was more focused on the familiar faces staring at him with smiles that sent chills down his spine. Fuck.

okay there we go! again, sorry it took so long but I finally did it!

I really hope that y’all enjoy this! sorry if there are errors or anything but I’m the only one who edits it so it’s hard to get them all. 

Tag List (couldn’t tag the bolded):@richie-n-eds @heere-i-am @ahyesfandoms @asteroidbill @strangerbeeps @edsandtrashmouth @eddiekaspbraked @wyttolff @gazebhoes

[alas-poor-cesario]

IT (2017)

I went to see it yesterday, and it was the first horror film that I’ve went to the pictures to see. I usually just wait so that I can watch them on the couch with a pillow handy to hide behind when I need it. This got pretty long I’m sorry! There’s going to be spoilers below the cut!

First off the story: I actually liked it being just the kids in this film, I’ll get to the characters in a little bit, but there was no way that everything could have been crammed into just one film. That would have been far too rushed and some really key events would have had to be left out for it to work. I haven’t read the book so I can’t say how accurate to that it is, but the changes from the 1990 series were needed I think.

From the first real scare of the movie (the sewer scene with Georgie) it had this feeling of ‘Oh we’re really not doing what the series did, okay’ and it marked it as being it’s own thing. I thought that was needed since the series gave a lot to live up to. I remember looking over at my mam after Georgie’s arm got bitten off and he was crawling along the ground and I was completely shocked. It was a lot gorier and darker, especially considering a few minutes before I was laughing as he hit his head on that bar.

They also moved the time it’s set to the 80′s and I liked that. It made it a lot easier to connect with the kids, there’s more relevant pop culture references and jokes like the Molly Ringwald line. It was nice to have that because I had been thinking it just before  it happened. The other cool thing about setting the first half then is that the second one with them as adults will be a modern thing and it ties in nicely to it being 27 years after the series came out.

Characters:

My favourite character out of the film was easily Richie. He had the best lines in the film (for the most part) and he caught my attention straight away. He was loud, I found myself looking at him more in scenes because he would be the one talking and I was expecting to be annoyed by that but I actually really liked it. He made IT less scary and pulled the group together well.

Bill is the leader of the group and his scenes were so emotional. I think this film caught his desperation and grief a lot better than the series did, especially in the third act of the film in the sewers. The movie had me pausing and saying ‘Oh my god was that actually Georgie’ because of the delay between him shooting ‘Georgie’ and ‘Georgie’ turning back into Pennywise and for that you got to see how Bill must have been feeling.

I liked Ben a little bit more in this adaptation especially when he first meets the Losers. I also liked the change to him being the historian of the group, he’s the new kid in town and so he’s looking up the history of the place. I do feel like this left Mike with something missing though since the town’s history was covered by Ben.

Eddie was brilliant. I said Richie has the best lines but truthfully he shares that position with Eddie. The one line that made me laugh more than anything else even after I left the film was the “gazebos” one. It din’t come across as cheesy or forced humour and I loved it. I also liked the kind of ‘only sane person’ role he played at times, waiting outside the sewer, criticising the group’s actions etc.

I’m so glad that they gave Bev a personality in this film. The series made her very two dimensional to me and I found myself just waiting for her to stop being on screen all of the time, but in this I couldn’t wait. She had some of the toughest scenes to watch in this but they balanced out by giving her some of the sweetest too like the ending and her meeting the Losers.

Stan was kind of forgettable in this and I can’t remember anything being said about birds which disappointed me. The bit with the painting gave me one of the bigger scares but I kept forgetting he was there until he spoke and then even after that I was too busy looking at the other characters to really pay him any attention.

The bullies reminded me of the bullies in Stand By Me and of Kevin Bacon. I’m not quite sure what they plan on doing with Bowers since he just fell down that well and presumably died. Patrick in the sewers and Henry being shot at by his father made me have moments of sympathy for them. They were just as much victims as the Losers if you take the idea that IT has been controlling the town and manipulating events.

Camera work/ cinematography:

Rather than this movie just being one bland film and having all of the camera angles really standard, they change and move and that adds to the unsettling vibe. The one that stood out to me was Bev confronting her father, just seeing that change and the slow movement made me really unsettled. The library went for more of a conventional ‘something’s chasing you’ set up and that worked well too, but my favourite thing about this film was that changing camera angle.

Effects:

This is where the film fell down in my opinion. Most of the scares in this seemed fake and they took me out of the film a little bit, not enough that I didn’t enjoy it, but just enough to be noticeable. The ones I remember were the dancing scene with the fire, the leper and the woman from the painting. They came across as being far too cheesy to me. I think if they had went with a little bit more in the way of practical effects over computer generated things then it would have been so much better.

But considering the series’ effects are a bit laughable to me now and when I first watched it I don’t think they did too badly.  IT starting the film as a scary looking clown with unnaturally bright eyes played on a lot of fears and while I can look at a screenshot and think that it just looks cheap and pretty naff, seeing it in the pictures for the first time gave me quite a fright.

Scare factor:

This film wasn’t necessarily the most scary film in the world however it did make me jump a lot more than the series did. The jump scares were built up to well and there was a few times I was lulled into a false sense of security before one which was done well. And there were times I was expecting something to happen like with one of the people in the background of the library or with the statue and clown when they’re sat at the fair.  The humour in the film broke up the scary aspects of it quite nicely for me and made it so that it was enjoyable and I could actually take in everything rather than just being scared of whatever was coming next.

Pennywise:

Skarsgård was never going to be Tim Curry. We’ve built up, and built up that image of Pennywise the clown for years and years and years and our imaginations have taken over and made him out to be one of the top horror monsters. If he had been dressed the same and acted the exact same way then I wouldn’t have liked it at all and would have just written this off as a stupid remake. Tim Curry’s IT was strange and I didn’t particularly like clowns anyway so he didn’t seem like the kind of fun type to draw in kids closer before killing them. Skarsgård’s IT plays to an audience that’s used to scary clowns and people being wary of them, granted I wouldn’t have stayed talking to the clown in the sewers like Georgie, but I didn’t mind him having the moment where he broke and growled at him. IT feeds off children’s fear and having this character who comes across as being just out of what feels comfortable works for him.

I prefer the way It looks in this film to the series. The lack of colour makes him more haunting, the hair and make up aren’t as cheesy and the outfit feels less cheap. His teeth and (what I’m assuming to be) the deadlights in this version were so much better.

[unpack-my-heart]

But Break, My Heart, For I Must Hold My Tongue

@violetreddie​ @constantreaderfool​ @tinyarmedtrex​ @xandertheundead​ @mrs-vh​ @eds-trashmouth​ 

[Moodboard by the amazing @violetreddie​ <3]

Read on ao3 HERE

“The rest is silence”

Eddie watches Richie’s face shift from painted anguish to peaceful nothingness. He watches Richie’s eyes dance under his eyelids, a wakeful dream. Eddie had memorised the choreography when he’d sat up late at night whilst Richie slept, eyes two-stepping and arms blindly grabbing for Eddie.

“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet Hamlet, and –”

Richie’s eyes fly open.

“Good night sweet prince,” Eddie corrects, and Stan’s face blanches.

“Shit! Sorry. Good night sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! Uh …”

“Why does…” Eddie prompts, but Stan doesn’t finish the line.

“Why does the drum come hither?” Eddie supplies, voice schooled into careful apathy, not wanting to spook the flighty animal stood in front of him, with Richie’s head cradled loosely in his lap.  

Richie’s eyes close again, and Eddie holds his breath.

“Why does the drum come hither?”

Fortinbras storms in, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. Horatio and Fortinbras exchange terse words, but Eddie cannot draw his eyes away from Richie’s face. The last time he’d seen this expression painted on his brow was the night before he’d told Eddie to leave, when they’d held each other all night and the acceptance letter had turned poisonous and fetid in Eddie’s bag.

“Not from his mouth, had it the ability of life to thank you, he … he … FUCK!”

Richie’s eyes open again.

“He never gave commandment for their death” Richie said, in a tone that Eddie imagined was supposed to be helpful but caused Stan to visibly bristle.

“You’re supposed to be dead”

“I’m just trying to help”

“I don’t need your help, Richard” Stan deadpanned, staring down at Richie with

“Look, you’re obviously struggling, I was just –”

“Richie, can you give us a moment, please?”

Richie stands up, uncharacteristically quiet, and slinks out of the room, tail between his legs.

The air in the small rehearsal room hangs like smog, heavy on their shoulders. Stan’s shaking, just barely, and Eddie knows that Stan thinks Eddie’s going to sack him, relieve him of his part and send him back into the wilderness, nameless.

Eddie sits down on the floor in the middle of the room, carefully arranging his limbs in an attempt to look less threatening, less like the person that could erase Horatio’s world with a snap of his fingers.

“Come sit”

Stan hesitates, before taking measured steps over to where Eddie is sat in a half-lotus position, hands clasped in his lap.

Stan sits.

“How much do you remember of our RADA days?”

Stan blinks.

“Uh, most of it, I guess? I remember – I remember you were in our seventeenth-century tragedy class before –”

Eddie smiles, lips drawn into a lazy, lopsided grin. Honest.

“Heh. Before I left, you mean?”

“Yup. Richie was pretty crushed”

“I don’t want to talk about Richie,” Eddie replies, voice gentle but laced with do not do not do not, “I want to talk about you”

“Look, Eddie, I know – I know I’m fucking it up. I know that I’m probably not the Horatio you want me to be, but… I’m trying? I’m trying so fucking hard, Eddie, honest I am. I just – I can’t seem to – I really want …”

“Do you remember Jacques?”

“How could I forget Jacques? I’m pretty sure anyone who has had even a three second interaction with Jacques remembers him,” Stan says, voice several ounces lighter.

Eddie shifts, right leg numb and protesting. He ends up sitting on his ass with his legs pin-straight out in front of him. Stan does the same.

“Jacques told me to leave RADA. He told me that I was never going to reach my potential in that environment, that it wasn’t the right place for me to grow, to flower. I didn’t hate him for saying it. I hated myself. Of course I felt like a failure. I’d tried and tried and tried but it wasn’t ever going to happen. I’d never be the prodigy my mother told me I was going to be”

“Eddie, are you–” Stan whispers, but Eddie shakes his head violently.

“Let me finish, Stan. I handed in my letter of intention before they could ask me to leave. That made it easier. I went out on my own terms.”

“Do you – are you asking me to –”

“Stan!”

“Sorry”

“I didn’t want it enough. I never did. Never have. I want this,” Eddie gestures wildly around the small rehearsal room, to his desk where his papers lay strewn across the surface like autumn leaves, to the grubby mirrors where he watched his cast metamorphosize every day, to the ceiling that he’d stare at, and thank a God he doesn’t believe in for giving him all of this, for letting him take it and consume it and become corpulent.

“You want it” Eddie announces after a beat of silence, and it isn’t a question.

“I want it” Stan parrots, staring at Eddie with wide, help me help me help me eyes.

“You want it, and I’ll help you get it. You’ve been cast for a reason, Stan. Claire saw something in you, something she knew I could nurture, and she was right. You are my Horatio, and as long as you’re willing to work with me, I’ll claw him out of you.”

Stan looks bewildered, like Eddie had just agreed to lasso the moon and drag it down just for him.

“Even if you did fuck up, it’d be nothing to do with you, anyway. That’d be on me. I’m your director, this production is my responsibility and mine alone. All of you, Horatio, Ophelia, Claudius,” Eddie pauses, screwing his eyes closed, before opening them again and locking eyes with Stan, “Hamlet. All of you. This is my ship and if it goes down, it’ll have been me who bore holes in the deck.”

“I don’t know what to say”

“Say you’ll stay, say you’ll work with me, say you’ll let me help you grow”

– X –

“Why are you giving Horatio more attention than me? I’m supposed to be the lead!”

It takes Richie longer than Eddie had guessed to detonate.

“Pardon?” Eddie answers, ready to go toe to toe with the Prince of Denmark on a battlefield of his own making, but Stan’s voice gets there first.

“Stop being a fucking child, Richie”

And they’re off. A verbal sparring match, the fencing scene several acts too soon. Eddie watches them, hidden in the corner like Polonius behind the curtain, expecting to get stabbed in the stomach by a rogue insult.

The fight is over almost as soon as it had begun, however, as Richie drops his sword and a pitiful ‘what happened to us’ falls to the ground instead.

Then Eddie’s name falls from Stan’s lips and he feels that puncture wound he’d been waiting for.

“There hasn’t been an ‘us’ since you ignored me when Eddie left,” Stan replies, eyes downcast, “I missed you, Rich, I rang you for two fucking years, of course I missed you. But this petulant child isn’t you. You need to sort it out. You can’t draw him in when you’re pushing everyone else out”

Eddie releases a wounded howl ripped straight from the part of his heart that he had locked away when he’d left Richie sat at that dining room table fourteen years ago.

Richie turns, horror evident in his pained expression.

“Eddie”

– X –

As soon as he saw him, Eddie knew that Michael Hanlon was made for the role of Ophelia. The softness of his face contrasted with the feral nymph in his eyes, the liberate me timbre of his voice, all of it. With flowers woven in his hair, Mike had captivated Eddie from the first syllable. Whilst watching him work with Richie, the way Mike had managed to distil the naivety of youth so perfectly that it fell from his skin in waves, Eddie had never felt so lucky.

“My lord, I have remembrances of yours, that I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them.”

Mike tries to thrust a small collection of letters into Richie’s hands but Richie sends them flying into the sky, only to rain back down on them like snowflakes, alike but subtly different. A sickness gnaws at Eddie’s stomach when he remembers the letters he’d sent to Richie, and whether Richie would condemn them to the ground, unread. Unopened.

Richie responds with a cold, “No, not I; I never gave you aught”, and the sickness in Eddie’s stomach grows stronger, and stronger.

I never gave you aught.

Never gave you aught.

Oh, but Richie, you gave me everything.

Mike slumps to the floor, rehearsal dress pooling around him. Richie grabs his face between his hands, and whispers through gritted teeth, “get thee to a nunnery!” and it’s perfect. It’s too perfect.

Richie stalks off, standing in the corner of the room that indicated that he was now off-stage and Eddie doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look, he doesn’t look, he mustn’t look but then he does look and Richie’s looking right back.

They share a small smile.

Mike continues to howl.