#derry (so much so that when the library floods at the end of the book and destroys the town records mike is the most knowledgeable source of
beep beep - richie tozier
hhhhhhhhere we go. mentions of weed and some sex references and a Lot Of Swearing™
----
"will you come? you have to."
mike's voice was solemn and achingly familiar down the crackling phone line.
you hadn't heard said voice in years, but hearing it now was as if you were right back in derry. "they're all coming back. all of them. eddie, beverly, ben, stan, bill, r-"
"richie." you'd gasped aloud, the noise echoing from the walls of the empty bathroom and reverberating back into your ears, magnifying your guilt and making such a horrible sound that you had to suppress a shudder.
fuck.
how could you have forgotten richie?
---
you fell for his sense of humour first.
he made you laugh when your chest burned from floods of tears and all you really wanted was to snap henry bowers' fucking arms off.
he made you laugh when all was hopeless and blood that nobody else could see dripped from the walls.
It lurked around every corner, and in the farthest reaches of your mind, and the only escape you got was the clubhouse, the quarry, the losers, richie.
richie, with his insanely thick glasses and his stupid haircut and hawaiian shirts that he actually pulled off.
you faced what seemed like the end of the world, or the end of derry, at least, and yet he could always make you throw your head back and really, genuinely laugh.
he knew you needed that.
you fell for him, too, though.
hard.
so hard, in fact, that sometimes you felt you'd explode from the sheer weight of loving him.
years later, after IT, you were so in love with him that sometimes you looked at him and felt you'd never know true happiness again if he didn't look back.
richie and yourself were inseparable for years.
trash-mouth tozier. he had made a name for himself, obviously, but it never bothered you, because he made you laugh.
he was so goddamn funny.
and you were irrevocably in love with him.
richie was your first kiss at sixteen. you were the only two in the clubhouse, him sprawled on the hammock, hair sticking up every which way.
he hadn't cut it in a while and it curled almost to his chin.
you liked it.
it had been around then that he had adopted a new style, and you couldn't say you weren't weak for it.
as well as the whole unkempt hair thing that he did on purpose, his collection of smoke-smelling band shirts and dreadfully torn up, low slung jeans actually made you have to sit down sometimes and take a breather.
he kicked off his battered grey chucks and settled properly in the hammock, his eyes landing on you.
richie watched as you pulled up a crumbling chair with a makeshift seat cushion that eddie had fashioned out of a pillowcase and some cotton balls
("to prevent ass splinters, richie, you dick. do you want splinters in your ass? do you want tetanus, fuckface?").
you leaned back on the chair, lighting a cigarette between your teeth and taking a long drag, exhaling loudly as if it were your first breath of oxygen in years,which was ironic given what it actually was.
richie stopped telling his made up story about all the sex he'd definitely had this summer and how he was an actual sex god, like, really, to make some offhand dirty joke from his mental rolodex of filth. it was so long ago now that you couldn't remember exactly what it was, only that it was about you.
you did remember, however, that you'd rolled your eyes and retaliated with a comment about how he'd never get kissed, let alone sleep with someone, if he carried on being so vulgar. it had made you laugh, though.
and then trash-mouth tozier reached up, grabbed the back of your head, and pulled you down to his lips.
it was messy and uncoordinated but still somehow the best thing that had ever happened to you, the way he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you like you were the only person on earth.
"damn, didn't know you'd be that easy." richie remarked, kissing softly along your jawline.
"beep beep, asshole." you laughed, running your hand through the mass of curls on his head.
"well, be still my beating heart."
the cigarette burned, discarded and long forgotten on the ground, and you ended up underneath him on the hammock, swinging about and laughing in between kisses.
your teeth clacked unpleasantly every once and a while, and the hammock was unstable, but you wouldn't have changed a single thing about it.
you fell asleep, the both of you, the smiths playing quietly on your portable radio, and did not move until eddie and stan found you hours later, slinging a blanket over the top of you because eddie was practically livid that the two of you had been stupid enough to fall asleep in this weather. hypothermia and such.
they were both secretly stoked that you guys had finally got it together, though.
the two of you broke that hammock a good few times, to the dismay of the other losers.
and that was it.
you were together from then on.
that was, before you left derry a year later.
breaking his heart, of course, all of their hearts. they loved you.
he loved you.
you'd miss smoking in empty classrooms with beverly, stealing snacks and cigarettes and going on long walks just to chat. she'd always been good at knowing exactly what you were thinking.
you and ben recommending books to each other and poring over cold cases in the library, and going back to his house to drink and listen to new kids on the block because you were both trash for that shit.
long bike rides alone with mike, because he was one of the only people who was able to help you sort through the kabelsalat of anxieties in your head. talking about everything and nothing and whatever inbetween.
watching dumb movies with eddie at your house because eddie's mom wouldn't let you in.
(she thought you were a whore, her words, not yours, and you'd defile her delicate little eddie.
you mentioned on multiple occasions that you didn't think much of her either, and on the common occasion that richie was there, he made sure to tell eddie's mom that he was the only one you'd be defiling.
to which you snorted into eddie's mom's generic diet soda that tasted like piss and smelled like public restroom.)
you'd miss talking everything out with stan on your aunt's phone when he couldn't sleep. he always needed someone to talk to and you were more than willing to be that for him. god knows he'd helped you out of a few scrapes.
billy. stuttering bill.
the first person ever to have showed you kindness when you moved to derry. the first person to make you feel like you were wanted around. you'd miss that boy.
you'd miss kissing richie behind the bike sheds, in the vacant clubhouse, napping together in the hammock
and listening to his dumb jokes because he wanted to be a stand up comic and you'd support him wholeheartedly because he was the love of your fucking life, heaven be damned.
you'd miss your best friends.
but you lived with your grandmother, and while you were legally an adult, there was no way you could support yourself alone on arcade wages, and you had no money for tuition fees, either.
your grandmother wanted to leave, and so you left. the scar on your hand the only thing tying you to the losers, to derry, and to the boy you loved more than anything in the world.
"you come right back to visit, won't you?" richie mumbled into your hair.
he had had a growth spurt and he was gangly and thin and he never cut his hair anymore but he was beautiful. you were his and he was yours and you loved each other so damn much that it hurt. "not because i want you around or anything," he joked tearfully. "but eddie's gonna miss you like hell, and you know how he gets."
you laughed, hot tears in your eyes threatening to spill.
"you've not seen the last of me, trash-mouth tozier." you gave another watery, mirthless laugh. he saw how your smile didn't reach your eyes and held you tighter against him, watching as the moving man threw suitcases onto the bed of the truck.
you were leaving, ben was going to college, and beverly was going to stay with her aunt again.
"i love you, you know." richie muttered, peeling away from you and staring down at your hands, which were clasped in his.
"i love you too, trash-mouth. more than you know."
you swore then that you'd never forget it. forget them. derry. the oath. richie.
but that all faded.
the further you drove away in your grandmother's pitifully old, beat up chevy, the more you couldn't quite remember things the way they were.
like looking through muddy water for richie's glasses in the quarry.
god, it got to the point where you could only remember vaguely everything that happened in derry.
you knew you were missing something... but you couldn't quite remember what it was.
you remembered a town, and some friends, and a promise, but the harder you tried to clear up the memories the harder it became to think about them.
so you stopped.
it wasn't that you forgot, as such, but more like you refused to remember.
the only photo you had of richie buried amongst various notes and polaroids on your cork board was hardly acknowledged.
it was almost like your brain blocked it out.
stan had taken this particular photo at greta's halloween party that you only agreed to go to because bev was bringing pot.
rich had insisted on going as a zombie but when he turned up to the party you realised the torn "costume" wasn't much different from his regular attire, save for the dollar-store fake blood and white contacts.
in the photo, you clung to richie's back in your dumb vampire costume, whooping and hollering, as he ran down greta's steep garden slope toward the pool her parents had just had installed. you were all stoned to absolute fuck, and in the background you could just about make out eddie running after you, mildly concerned because he didn't like chlorine. you'd all ended up in the pool anyway, to eddie's chagrin.
it had been your favourite photo of richie ever since it was taken because of the look of sheer joy on his face.
the sparkling grin that crinkled his nose and lit up his eyes always evoked a similar one on your own face, because after everything you'd been through, these fleeting moments of happiness were just that. fleeting.
you needed to hold on to them.
they were all gone now.
and for more than 20 years after that, you longed for someone you couldn't put your finger on.
you couldn't remember a face, or a name, as such. only that they were very important, and they meant a great deal to you once upon a time.
you settled down, eventually, not even thinking about the scar on your hand most days, or the unnamed group you unconsciously missed.
your husband was a good man, you'd been married for four years
(a relatively low-budget registry office wedding with an ill-fitting rental dress and a shitty cake and a honeymoon to fucking canada which didn't make up for the fact you'd had to drag his father, cursing and kicking, out of the reception because he absolutely hated you), and you loved him. you did.
you just... didn't think you were in love with him. it was a marriage of convenience.
oftentimes he actually bored you.
it was nowhere near the visceral ache in your chest you felt when you did happen to look at the scar.
the yearning for a past you couldn't remember.
somewhere else.
someone.
there was also the fear.
the raw spike of fear when your eyes drifted to the line across your palm.
like you knew something had happened and you knew it would happen again.
also, he was never able to make you laugh. not really. it had always bothered you.
when mike hanlon called your cell in 2016, you honestly felt as if you'd die right there.
your chest tightened, your throat became no wider than a pinhole, and you dropped the phone into the bath you were running, watching as the call screen flickered and died under the water, mike's muffled voice calling to you.
half the words he had said to you uncovered old memories you hadn't realised you had buried.
you remembered. everything.
it was as if you'd never forgotten.
you didn't even remember forgetting.
"you have to come back. we swore an oath." mike had said before your phone slipped from between your fingers and into the tub.
the distant memory of glass and blood and a single, solemn promise came rip-roaring into your brain. stuttering bill. the oath you made when you were eleven. "its happening again."
you were only vaguely aware of what was happening again, but it was enough to make you vomit the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.
----
your husband was at a stag party, so he wouldn't be back for a while. you knew it wouldn't be a party, per se, because he was far too tame to be seen anywhere where there wasn't a 4 drink limit and strictly hall&oates on the jukebox.
he'd play darts and have a cider and share boring anecdotes with the guy at said jukebox.
then he'd come home, crawl into bed, not have sex with you, and sleep until eight before trudging to the office.
you scrawled a note and stuck it to the fridge with blu-tac, the boring fridge with no magnets (your husband thought magnets were tacky) against the boring grey kitchen in the boring grey house in the boring grey neighbourhood.
you had been without richie for 27 pitiful years, and your life reflected it.
boring husband, boring house, boring life, good god.
-----
pulling up in front of the chinese restaurant, heart beating violently in your throat, you willed the bile rising in your throat to stay down.
it did, thank god.
it was bill who greeted you at the door, mike standing close behind him.
bill was a writer, now.
you had read one of his books before, now you thought about it.
the name of the author had been painfully familiar, and you had thought about stuttering bill for an idle, fond moment. but the second you had turned the front cover and begun to read the book, he slipped your mind again.
you hadn't liked the ending so much, but you wouldn't tell him that.
"billy, oh my god." you gasped, and he pulled you into a tight hug. "oh my god, it's you. you... i don't know how i forgot, bill, but i did. im sorry." tears pooled at your waterline, pricking your eyes.
"we all did. its alright." bill had always been the voice of reason in the group, and such a comfort to you.
"is he-"
"in there. yeah. he hasn't changed." said bill, moving aside to let you in. barely acknowledging mike, your feet began to move before your brain knew what was up.
your chest tightened as you came up to a red painted door, you could hear voices from the inside and your hand shook on the door handle.
"go on. he's been asking about you all night." you felt mike's hand on your shoulder and you smiled gently at him, inhaling deeply and squaring your shoulders. as if what lie beyond the door was worse than anything IT could do.
when you clicked the handle to the right, you heard a silence settle over the room.
the only sound being you creaking the door open and taking the first step into the rest of your life.
faces that you didn't remember forgetting stared back at you, like you were coming home. because you were.
he was the same. older, of course. but he had his unruly hair and big glasses and that disheveled look, like he had just rolled out of bed but was still effortlessly attractive.
he was there. your richie.
and you just about vaulted the table to get to him.
you were in his arms within three seconds... and it was like you never left.
"i forgot you." his voice broke, and the sound shattered your heart. "i forgot about you."
-----
later, in the townhouse, everyone had gone to bed.
you were all reeling from the news or stanley's death, and pennywise already beginning to chip away at your sanity.
you lay staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster and hoping for a way out.
the chance of all of you coming out of this unscathed was slim.
fuck.
had you not quit smoking some fifteen years ago, you'd have murdered a joint.
fucking stupid clown. fucking stupid blood oath. fucking stupid responsibility and fucking stupid richie who you were fucking stupidly still in love with because how could you not be? he had kept his eyes on you the whole time in the restaurant, and you pretended not to notice how he held his breath when bill asked you if you were married.
you pretended not to notice his dismay when you told bill that you were.
but you were absolutely in love with richie tozier, still, and you hadn't a clue what to do about it.
"god fucking dammit."
you groaned aloud into the empty room.
"fucking fuck. shit. can't catch a fucking break--"
there was a sound at your door.
knock knock.
knock knock.
knockknockknockknockknockknockknock--
"alright, jeez." you padded across the room, mumbling angrily something about how much you missed the guy who used to sell you pot and if it wasn't him you didn't want to know.
"richie?"
richie leant against your doorframe, his glasses halfway down his nose, in a talking heads shirt and boxers, looking stressed to absolute fuck.
"hey." he breathed, and you noticed he was avoiding your gaze rather pointedly, keeping his eyes on the space next to your head. "hey, uh, i just, im happy you're... you're married, and im happy that you're happy." rich shifted his weight to the other leg and began wringing his hands, as if looking for something to do. "obviously, all i want is for you to be happy, because yknow, i love you."
his eyes widened at what he had said.
"no, i mean, i don't, i mean, fuck, i do, uh, love you, of course, but im not, yknow, i mean, in love with you, like, ok, like i do, uh, i love you.... like, i'm... yeah, still... in love with you, actually. so--"
"rich?"
"im not, like hung up on you or anything, like, im, im not like some creep who couldn't, fuckin, like, move on, yknow?
im, yknow, happy you've moved on, cause yknow, so have i, like, uhh, fuckin--"
"richie."
"fuckin, yknow, i've had, yknow, many girlfriends... many... boyf-- yknow, i've moved on, is all im trying to say here, and--"
"richie! beep beep!"
that seemed to grab his attention.
"im sorry." he smiled sadly, his eyes flicking down to the ring on your left hand. the ring that seemed suddenly to weigh a tonne.
"rich. i don't love him."
"you don't-- you what?"
"there's only ever been you, rich."
there was a beat of silence, and your heart twisted and flipped in your chest as you waited for a response from the man who now actually seemed to need rebooting.
"you... huh."
"i love you." you pressed, thinking that things would be easier if you sat down and waited for things to compute.
and there was another beat, several, actually, of silence.
and then.
"oh, thank fuck."
and then his mouth had rather fallen onto yours.
tongue and teeth and lips and skin and his breath in your mouth and oh. finally caught on, did you, trash-mouth?
your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pressed you up against the wall, kissing you hard like he was a dead man walking and this was his last kiss.
oh, how you had missed the love of your life.
you didn't have time to dwell on it much, though, because richie was sucking a hickey into
the junction between your neck and jaw and making a beeline for the bed.
----
waking up tangled with richard tozier had to be one of the best feelings in the world, (along with sex while high and finding a song you only remember two words of) and you
couldn't believe this was your fucking life when he stirred next to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
"holy shit." you whispered. i mean, you though you whispered it, but apparently not, because richie was awake.
"i never stopped loving you, yknow." richie suddenly mumbled, tracing along your arm with his fingertips. "i didn't quite remember you, but i remembered i loved you so much that i felt like i'd die."
in that moment you knew that you would give your life for him if it came down to it.
because you were one and the same.
you'd been pining for each other for just short of thirty fucking years, and now you were back and it was like that time when you found the last two puzzle pieces on your grandma's vincent van gogh jigsaw. (you'd had some trouble with it because all the pieces were fucking blue squiggles)
you'd fit back together so easily and it was like you were whole again.
it was at that moment that you also realised soulmates existed, and he was yours.
"good to see that nothing's changed. especially your-"
and there he was. moment over.
"beep beep, richie."
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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series
• Ch. 3: The Right Stuff •
I’ve been writing this for the past couple of days, wanted to have it ready for today. Happy Halloween! 🎃
×××
“Take everything but the Delicious Deals, guys,” Eddie instructed. “My mom loves them.
Richie was rifling through Eddie’s kitchen cabinet, Bill and Richie had stopped by Eddie’s house before their trip to the barrens. They figured they should grab some snacks beforehand.
Eddie watches, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Hey! First, you said the Barrens, now you’re saying the sewer.” He said. “I mean, what if we get caught?”
“We won’t, Eds,” Bill assured. “The sewers are p-p-public works. We’re the public aren’t we?”
“Hey, Eddie?” Richie stood at the other end of the kitchen, a cabinet full of pills open. “these your birth control pills?”
“Yeah, and I’m saving it for your sister. This is private stuff.” Eddie retorted.
The boys closed all the cabinets and exited the kitchen. The TV from the front room was playing softly, Mrs. Kaspbrak was seated in her living room, watching.
“Hello, and welcome to the Derry Children’s Hour.”
“Eddie Bear,” the boys stopped, looking at Mrs. Kaspbrak. “where you boys off to in such a rush?”
“Umm…” Bill spoke up, already feeling the effects of his stutter. “J-j-just my uh, backyard, Mrs. K. I g-got a new…”
“A new croquet set,” Richie jumped in. “Jeez, spit it out, Buh-Buh-Bill”
“Okay,” she eased, her eyes drilling into the boys. “Oh, and sweetie, don’t go rolling around on the grass. Especially if it’s just been cut. You know how bad you’re allergies can get.”
“Yes, mom. Let’s go.” Eddie mumbled, and he began herding his friends out of the door.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Eddie froze, and his friends hesitated. Shamefully, he turned and walked into the living room towards his mother who held out her cheek. Eddie planted a quick kiss and returned to the front door. He could see Richie and Bill stifling laughter.
“Do you want one from me too, Mrs. K?” Richie felt a harsh shove towards the door, and he chuckled. “I was kidding!”
The boys, now joined by Stan, zipped through the streets of Derry, wind in their hair. As they barrelled through the town, the Derry Public Library cropped up into view.
Inside, sat at one of the tables and thoughtfully scribbling on a postcard was Ben Hanscom. He had been mulling over the poem, trying to find the perfect words he could use that could possibly capture what he felt in his heart. Finally, when he had finished, he read the final draft in a hushed whisper.
“You’re hair is winter fire, January embers… My heart burns there too.”
His attention was brought to the windows when he heard muffled shouts outside.
“Slow down!” Said one voice.
“Hi-ho, Silver! Away!” Cried another.
He spotted four bikes cruising down the street, just in front of the library. The first voice cried out again.
“Your old lady bike’s too fast for us!”
The abrupt smack of the book as it hit the table echoed across the quiet library, his attention on the snippy librarian. Her glasses sat perched on the edge of her nose and she was staring judgmentally at Ben.
“Found it.” Her eyes squinted. “Isn’t it summer vacation? I would think you’d be ready to take a break from the books.”
Ben who was fiddled nervously with his fingers, shrugged. “I like it here.”
She blinked at his response and looked down at him distastefully. “A boy should be spending his summer outside with friends. Don’t you have any friends.”
Ben looked away, before speaking, avoiding all eye contact with the stingy woman.
“Can I have the book now?”
She gave the book a quick pat and left promptly. Ben breathed a sigh in relief and grabbed the History of Old Derry, opening it up.
He was constantly intrigued by his new town, and every time he could dig deeper into its history, he felt a little piece of the puzzle fall into place.
He flipped through the pages, eyes trained on the different pictures, scanning the captions but nothing, in particular, caught his eye. That is until he reached one photo in particular. It was a rather tall building, flooded with people of all ages, mostly children. What caught his eye was an old circus caravan.
It featured a picture of a clown. Some of it was cut off, but he could make out some of it. “Penny-” the rest was covered, and below it, he had gotten enough context to know it read “Dancing Clown.”
Below the picture, the caption read “Easter Egg Hunt celebration at the Derry Iron Work, April 3rd, 1908” Unbeknownst to Ben, a woman at the back of the library, turned to watch him. Eyes fixed completely on Ben, an eerie smile on her face.
Ben continued to flip through the book, fascinated. Another photo, this one of several kids, all holding their baskets of eggs. He turned the page, and featured on the next page was a photocopy of a newspaper, the Derry Herald. It read, “EASTER EXPLOSION KILLS 88 CHILDREN, 102 TOTAL”
He scanned the page briefly, his eyes lingering on the photo featured in the newspaper. Ben felt a chill run down his spine, still oblivious to the woman staring at him in the library. As he advanced further in the book, it only grew darker. Bodies were strewn all over the grass in the photo, captioned, “Bodies of those killed in Derry Iron Works Explosion, 1908”
Another page. This photo depicted a small crowd of people gathered around an old tree. “A gruesome discovery in the wake of the Derry Iron Works explosion, 1908”. Ben could not see the gruesome discovery he read about, and he was thankful. He turned the page again. Peculiar.
A slightly zoomed-in version of the previous photo. He turned the page. The same photo, only closer. Another page. Another photo of the branches. Frantically, Ben continued to flip through the pages, heart thumping. Sure enough, like a slow-motion animation, it closed in on the branches of the tree. Closer and closer and closer and-
A head. A boy’s head. An impossibly crystal clear photo of a boy’s severed head is caught in the branches. Ben felt his stomach lurch and he slammed the book shut, panting heavily. What the hell had he just seen?
His eyes trailed from the cover of A History of old Derry to a recent headline of the newspaper. “Body found by canal not Betty Ripsom” What the hell was wrong with this town? Ben stiffed when he heard a soft giggle, the slow tune of an old music box began to play. Slowly he turned.
Across the library, a bright red balloon was floating across the library, disappearing through a doorway. He rose to his feet and peered out the doorway, anxiety settling in his stomach. Perched on the steps was a smoking easter egg, charred and burned. For an unknown reason, Ben let his legs carry him down the hall, where he found another singed egg. And another. And another.
He now found himself in the library’s basement, where everything was stored in a maze of shelves. He picked up the egg, despite its charred exterior, it wasn’t hot. He could have sworn he heard shuffling down the hallway of shelves and he crept forward. Was the librarian down here, he wondered. She couldn’t be, the lights were off. Right on cue, the lights flickered on and off, a sickening pale green.
The lights flickered long enough for Ben to see a figure dart between the shelves. The room went dark once more and Ben beard a clatter from behind him. He turned around, and at the top of the stairs was the figure of a boy, maybe his age. It was hard to tell. Regardless, Ben watched cautiously as the figure took a few stiffened steps down the stairs one see step at a time. He froze, and Ben watched anxiously, his heart pounding. The figure took another step down, revealing to Ben that he had no head.
Smoke wafted from his neck and while he had no head, Ben knew somehow it was looking right at him. He had been holding several eggs to his chest, which he now dropped. The eggs hit the ground, splattering everywhere. The figure of the headless boy trudged down the stairs and froze briefly. And then it took off after Ben.
Ben sped down into the small maze of shelves, he could barely hear his own footsteps, let alone the footsteps of the figure over his pounding heart and heavy breathing. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see the figure running stiffly but swiftly after him. He made so many turns he lost count of where he was, much too frightened to paying attention to where he was going. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure chasing him, too afraid if he didn’t look he would sneak up and grab him. He looked forward just in time to turn the corner.
A taunting gravelly voice grabbed his attention, and he quickly glanced a final glance behind him to see a giant bulbous clown head on top of the boy’s once headless figure was right in front of him.
“Egg boy!” It said.
He felt himself collide with a figure and he stumbled back frightened. The figure he crashed into let out a startled gasp and dropped several books. It was the librarian.
She looked Ben up and down sharply. “What on earth are you doing?”
Ben spared a frightful look down the hallway of shelves, relieved to find nothing there. Still panting, in fear or exhaustion or possibly both, he had no idea. He looked the librarian in the eye once more and fled up the stairs, grateful to be caught where he shouldn’t have been.
After gathering his things, and his composure, Ben exited the library. He trudged across the grass, passing the stone monument, unaware of the spiteful mulleted teenager that had been waiting for him.
“Where you off to, tits?”
Ben took one look at Henry Bowers and fled. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made it far before one of his goons had been waiting for him and snatched him up.
“Gotcha.”
The Bowers gang had dragged a fighting Ben Hanscom several blocks to Derry’s infamous Kissing Bridge.
“Wait!”
“Fucking hold him!”
“Leave me alone!”
“Smack him.”
“Don’t let tubby get away.”
"Help!“
Laughter erupted from the vicious group of boys. Patrick Hockstetter had a hold on Ben, one of them had pulled Ben’s shirt up over his head, disorienting him. A cackling Victor Criss slapped Ben’s stomach teasingly and each of them got a shot at kicking, poking and shoving, in ignoring the boy’s cries of protest.
Ben felt himself get pinned against the side of the bridge. "Just leave me alone.”
“Look at all this blubber!” Exclaimed Belch, who ripped his shirt back down.
Ben looked around in fear, struggling against his attackers. The rattling of a can came from Patrick, who eagerly shook the can of hairspray as he stood in front of Ben.
“Let me light his hair, like Michael Jackson,” he said eagerly, flicking open his lighter and created a small bellow of flames.
“Just hold him,” Growled Henry, pushing him out of the way and Ben roughly by the collar.
“Get off me! Get off me!” Ben stopped shouting when he heard the low rumble of a car.
Everyone else quieted as well, watching a car slowly cruised by, the window rolled down. The gang expected to be stopped, but the car kept going. The couple inside contributed nothing but a passing glance, and Ben cried out for help.
The only kind of response he received, was the abrupt and unexpected form of a bright red balloon popping up in the window of the back seat.
Henry landed a right hook in Ben’s jaw and another. Ben felt his sense getting knocked loose and he grew dizzy, his ears ringing. Henry grabbed him by the head, shaking it vigorously as he yelled in anger and madness. His hearing came back in time to hear Henry seething threats.
“Okay, new kid. This is what us locals call the Kissing Bridge. It’s famous for two things. Sucking face,” he held up his pocket knife and suddenly unsheathed it. “and carving names”
Nausea washed over Ben and winced, shaking his head desperately.
“Henry, please,” he pleaded, shaking his head no.
Ben roared in agony, searing pain erupted ok stomach as Henry forcefully carved a large H on his stomach. Patrick cackled madly and Victor said nothing. Belch was the only one who became uneasy.
“Woah, woah! Henry!”
“Shut up!” He bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. “I’m gonna carve my whole name onto this cottage cheese!”
In one swift movement, Ben brought his leg up to Henry, kicking himself off and he tumbled over the side of the bridge. Grunting, he tumbled down the harsh slope, being poked and stabbed by various twigs but none of it came close to the pain of the mark Henry had left.
He could hear the angry cries of Henry, who was peering over the bridge. “I’m gonna cut your fucking tits off. I swear to God!”
He launched himself over the bridge and all his friends joined him. Ben jumped to his feet when he heard the rustling of the leaves up the hill he had just fallen. He turned on his heel, and sprinted into the trees, trying desperately to ignore the searing pain in his stomach every time he moved. Ben made several twists and turns through the trees, never allowing himself to stop.
Meanwhile, Henry and his friends had reached the end of the hill, and Henry began sifting through the dirt and leaves frantically. “My knife. My old man will kill me!”
Belch and Patrick watched, not knowing what to do. Henry looked at him expectantly.
“You two get him!” They fled into the woods after Ben and Henry turned to Victor. “Move your fucking ass!”
Ben could hear the approaching footsteps and voices behind him as he reached a fork in the path. He went down the left which lead him to the edge of the ferns at the edge of a creek. Patrick and Belch reached the same fork and they stopped. Patrick gestured for Belch to take the right while Patrick took the left.
Ben felt his socks dampen, as ran along the creek leaving the Bowers gang far behind him.
×××
“You holding up okay?”
Beverly had returned to the living room, now fully dressed in a maroon tank top and denim shorts, her usual key around her neck and her long red hair hung at the side of her shoulders in a ponytail. The two girls had scraped together as many ointments and bandages for Y/n’s leg.
Though they hadn’t had much luck. They couldn’t find a single thread of gauze and only half a foot of ace bandages. So Beverly did her best to clean the wound with a wet paper towel and applied some ointment. She found a spare white cotton cloth in the linen closet and wrapped it firmly around Y/n’s leg to stop the bleeding.
Once Y/n’s leg had been taken care of, they got to work cleaning the carpet as best as they could. Beverly took most of the trips back and forth to the kitchen given Y/n was still much too sore. When the carpet had been scrubbed within an inch of its life, the girls finally retreated to the couch and talked into the sun came up. They talked about anything and everything - aside from what Y/n had seen, still much too frightened to speak of it.
Beverly stood at the edge of Y/n’s living room, now fully dressed, looking at Y/n, trying to gauge her mood. She had not moved from her spot on the couch and she looked as if she was lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the barely visible pink stain on the carpet.
“Y/n?”
Snapping out of her daze, she looked to Beverly, still in a bit of a daze. “Hm?”
“Are you alright to get dressed, or,” she trailed off, not wanting to offend her friend but still offering her assistance.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Thanks,”
She pushed herself off the couch and limped lightly into the hall, passing Beverly and retreated into her room to get dressed. She winced at the pain that seared in her leg but she relaxed gradually. She was growing used to it.
Biting her lip and hissing slightly, she tried her best to step into her pair of overall shorts. She had almost gotten her leg in when she began to tip over. Thankfully she had landed on her bed, she used the advantage to slip easily in her shorts and sighed in relief, the hard part over.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Y/n grabbed her lowest pair of socks and shoes and joined Beverly back in the living room. Beverly had prepared breakfast for the two of them, a bowl of cereal for her and a [y/f/b] for Y/n.
Beverly smiled warmly, welcoming her back, but her eyes fell to Y/n’s ankle and she winced.
“We really need to get you some proper bandages,” She eased.
Y/n looked down at her leg to see the once white cloth was stained a deep crimson color and she sighed, looking back at Bev who offered a weak smile.
A yawn escaped her lips and Y/n felt a twinge of guilt for keeping her friend up all night. Beverly recognized the look on her face and she smiled.
“Don’t worry, Y/n it’s fine. Let’s just have our breakfast and then we’ll get you some proper supplies at the pharmacy. I was planning on making a trip there today anyway. You can come with me,”
×××
Stan, Richie, Eddie, and Bill were treading the edge of the water, Bill in the lead towards the sewers. Stan was gesturing all around him, a sure frown on his face.
“That’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy. And that’s poison ivy.”
“Where?” Eddie looked around, watching his step. “Where’s the poison ivy?”
“Nowhere,” Richie remarked. “Not every fucking plant is poison ivy, Stanley.”
Bill and Richie stepped into the large cement mouth of the sewer tunnels, Eddie and Stan refusing to cross the threshold. Eddie was shifting on his feet, growing antsy.
“Okay, I’m starting to get itchy now, and - and I’m pretty sure this is not good for my–”
“Do you use the same bathroom as your mother?” Richie quipped, cutting Eddie off.
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“Then you probably have crabs.”
“That’s so not funny.”
The flashlights crawled along the walls of the slimy sewer tunnel and Richie turned around to face his two hesitant friends.
“Aren’t you guys coming in?”
Eddie took one look at the murky water and shook his firmly. “Uh-uh. It’s greywater.”
“What the hell’s greywater?”
“It’s basically piss and shit. So I’m just telling you, you guys are splashing around in millions of gallons of Derry pee. So…”
The stick Richie had been carrying was swirled around the water before he brought it up to his face. He took a big whiff and Eddie used all his strength not to gag.
“Are you series? What are you-?”
“Doesn’t smell like caca to me señor!” Richie retorted in an accent.
“Okay, I can smell that from here.”
Richie smiled a toothy grin. “It’s probably just your breath wafting back into your face.”
Eddie scoffed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief and he tried desperately to contain his frustration. “Have you ever heard of a staph infection?”
Amused as ever, Richie grinned, waving the stick towards his friend. “Oh, I’ll show you a staph infection.”
“This is so unsanitary. You’re literally-”
The continued to bicker further and Stan rolled his eyes, already fed up with them.
“This is literally like swimming inside of a toilet bowl right now,”
Still grinning, Richie picked something up from the water with his stick and waved it around.
“Have you ever heard of Listeria? AHH” Eddie screamed in terror and jumped back slightly when Richie launched the sopping wet piece of garbage at Eddie.
He snickered at the boy’s reaction, and Eddie launched into another lecture. Bill, who was the deepest in the tunnels, had found a shoe floating in the water.
“Guys!”
The boys stopped bickering and looked to their friend. He was holding the shoe illuminating the dripping shoe with his flashlight.
Stan grew grave, and his voice broke as he spoke. “Shit. Don’t tell me that’s…”
“No. G-Georgie wore galoshes.”
Richie had joined Bill’s side and he peered inside the shoe.
“Who’s sneaker is it?” Eddie asked.
Richie turned, and looked back at his friend, trying to hide his shock. “It’s Betty Ripsom’s,”
An uneasy and solemn silence fell over them. All sense of mischief and jokes forgotten. Eddie let out a shaky breath.
“Oh, shit. Oh, God. Oh, fuck!” Stan watched quietly, silently shutting down and Eddie was still trying to cope with the discovery. “I don’t like this.”
Richie, who always reverted to humor as his coping mechanism, did just that.
“How do you think Betty feels?” He stood on one foot and hopped a couple of times. “Running around these tunnels with only one frickin’ shoe?”
Richie stopped when he saw the serious and frightened faces on his friends and he knew he went too far. At that moment, Stan spoke up, his voice wavering.
“What if she’s still here?”
V No one answered, but Bill and Richie retreated farther in the tunnels.
“Eddie, come on!” Richie urged.
“My mom will have an aneurysm, okay, if she finds out that we’re playing down here. I’m serious.”
Bill hadn’t acknowledged what anyone had said, this attention still focused on the murky waters below.
“Bill?”
He turned around a sad look in his eyes.
“If… If I was Betty Ripsom, I would want us to find me.” They all shifted uncomfortably. “G-Georgie too.”
Eddie, who couldn’t contain his discomfort, shakily spoke up.
“What if I don’t want to find them?”
Everyone looked to Eddie, shocked. Not surprised that he felt that way, but that he brought it up. Like some unspoken thought, they all had in the back of their minds.
“I mean, no offense, Bill, but I don’t want to end up like…” The name Georgie almost rolled off his tongue, and he shook his head feeling guilty. “I don’t want to go missing either.”
“He has a point,” Stan added.
“Y-y-you too?”
“It’s summer. We’re supposed to be having fun. This isn’t fun. This is scary and disgusting.”
The four of them gasped when a figure collapsed outside in the water. Stan and Eddie whirled around to see a boy gasping for breath on his hands and knees. He attempted to get back up but he fell once more. It looked as if this was the first time in a long while he had stopped to catch his breath. It was Ben Hanscom, but they knew him as the new kid.
Richie peered out of the tunnel.
“Holy shit! What happened to you?”
×××
“I think it’s great we’re helping the new kid but we also need to think of our own safety.”
The five boys emerged from the forest, there bikes bouncing slowly on the grassy terrain before descending onto the pavement. Ben had been offered the backseat of Bill’s bike, and the rest trailed behind as they made their way to the pharmacy downtown. As usual, Eddie was informing the group of the possible dangers of their current situation.
“I mean, he’s bleeding all over and you guys know that there’s an AIDS epidemic happening right now as we speak, right? And my mom’s friend in New York City got it by touching a dirty pole on the subway. And a drop of AIDS blood got into his system through a hangnail. A hangnail!”
The gang was now halfway to the pharmacy and despite his rapid speech patterns, his rant had lasted the majority of the trip.
By the time they reached the alley outside the pharmacy, Eddie was wrapping up.
“…and you can amputate legs and arms. But how do you amputate a waist? How do you amputate a waist? You guys do know that alleys are known for dirty needles that have AIDS, right? You guys do know that?”
Like their knack for tuning out Richie’s trash mouth, the rest of them had a knack for tuning out Eddie’s medical rants.
They parked their bikes in the alley, and Ben took a seat on some wooden crates, leaning against the brick wall.
“Ah, we’re screwed,” Mumbled Stan.
Bill and the others began retreating down the alleyway.
“Richie, stay wait here. Come on,”
Richie stood awkwardly with Ben, and he chuckled weakly.
“Glad I got to meet you before you died.”
Ben looked up at Richie, unimpressed with his joke and Richie shifted uneasily. And the unlikely duo waited in silence. Inside the pharmacy, Bill and Stan fell back, letting Eddie take the wheel. He grabbed nearly everything he could reach and in a few seconds, had a small pile packed against his chest.
Meanwhile, Stan and Bill had scoured their pockets for money, but all the two had managed to scrounge together was a measly three dollars.
“Can we afford all that?” Bill asked, referring to the small mountain of medical supplies Eddie was holding.
Stan held up the three dollar bills in his hands and shrugged. “It’s all we got.”
“You kidding me?” Eddie sighed, disappointed.
“Wait, you have an account here, don’t you?” Bill asked hopefully.
Eddie gave his friend an incredulous look.
“If my mom finds out I bought all this stuff, I’m spending the whole rest of the weekend in the hospital getting x-rayed.”
Two isles over Beverly stood facing the wall of feminine hygiene products. Y/n appeared from around the corner holding a small plastic bag of gauze and bandages that she had just paid for. She joined her friend’s side, noticing the indecisiveness in Bev and she quickly scanned the shelves. She finally found the familiar brand and grabbed a box off the shelf and handed it to Beverly. She took it and looked to Y/n.
“If you’re looking for comfort, this one’s your best best bet.” She whispered, smiling weakly.
Bev breathed a sigh of relief and sent her a grateful glance. Together, the two girls began treading towards the end of the aisle and around the corner. They both froze when they heard a familiar voice.
“See you later, Dad.”
They caught a glimpse of Gretta at the opposite end, closing up her bag and the two girls quickly shuffled to the safety of the next aisle before Gretta could spot them. Except for Y/n, who moved in more of a quick hobble.
They rounded the corner and found themselves face to face with three familiar faces. Beverly instinctively shoved the box of tampons behind her back before they could notice it. And Y/n had realized why the boys were so familiar.
One of them, she realized, was completely fixated on her. The smaller boy who held several first aid supplies held to his chest and when he saw her, a roll of medical tape slipped from his hand. But his wide eyes never left her.
Everyone stood there awkwardly for a moment before Eddie broke the silence. He smiled nervously at her and shifted a bit on his feet.
“Hey, uh, hi! I remember you, how’s the le-gaaahh…” his words spilled into a messy gasp as his eyes landed on her ankle.
By now, the makeshift white bandage was stained completely red, and it looked as if no more blood could possibly be soaked up.
Eddie tried desperately not to gag, though it was very difficult for him.
Bill looked between both girls before his eyes fell on Y/n’s leg, but he tried not to stare.
“Are y-you guys, okay?”
Beverly quickly responded, looking between Y/n and the boys, eager to divert attention away from the ox she held behind her.
“We just came to get supplies for her leg, that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”
“None of your business,” Stan snapped, sensing her abrasiveness.
“There’s a kid outside. Looked like someone killed him.”
During the whole conversation, Eddie had looked at Beverly maybe once. His attention focused on Y/n, and all his energy went towards not looking at her ankle.
“W-we need s-s-some supplies, but we don’t have enough money,” Bill said sadly.
Beverly frowned the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to. It was the only way she could think of distracting him and helping the boys. She looked anxiously at Mr. Keene and sighed. She gave one look at Y/n and lowered her voice.
“Go with them, or wait outside at least. I’ll be right out,”
Y/n recognized the look in her best friend and she quickly shook her head.
“Beverly, you don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“Just go, I’ll be fine.”
Beverly took off past the boys and headed to the counter.
“Bev,” she hissed, but she ignored her.
Instinctively, she tried to follow her friend but she hissed in pain when she put pressure on her leg.
The boys immediately noticed her pain and Bill took a few steps forward, ready to catch her if she fell.
She caught herself before that could happen and Eddie shifted on his feet nervously.
“Do you need help with your ankle? I know first aid and I could help you after I helped the new kid?”
“Ew,” Y/n groaned, cringing.
Eddie tried to mask his hurt unsuccessfully, he looked down to his feet and his cheeks turned pink.
“A simple no would have sufficed, Jesus,” he mumbled.
“What? Oh,” she shook her head, “no, It’s Mr. Keene, ”
Y/n frowned, gesturing to Beverly at the counter.
Mr. Keene was looking Bev up and down, hungrily. The way he was smiling at her made her nauseous.
“Oh…” Eddie turned around to see what she was talking about, and Stan and Bill did too. “Oh.”
They watched Bev take off his glasses of her face, folding them up. While handing them back she “accidentally” knocked over the small shelf of cigarettes. Mr. Keene smiled weakly and bent over to pick them up.
“Come on, let’s go,” Y/n whispered quickly.
She was backing up, gesturing for the boys to follow her. But they were still staring at Beverly in shock.
“Now! Come on!” She hissed under her breath.
Beverly grabbed a pack of cigarettes that had landed on the counter, and Y/n realized the boys were never gonna figure it out in time.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” rolling her eyes, she grabbed two of their wrists, her grocery bag hooked on one finger and began pulling them towards the door.
Beverly cast a glance over her shoulder, to see Y/n dragging the boys away.
The boys stumbled out of the aisle, tripping over themselves in the process. Y/n was dragging Eddie and Bill by their wrists and Stan had caught on. Eddie was taken aback, but he was mostly distracted by the fact that he was dropping his supplies left and right.
“Jesus, you’d think you never saw a distraction before in your lives,” Y/n sighed, releasing the boys.
Eddie scoffed, making a face implying he was going to say something but instead, he awkwardly looked away, words failing him.
“Alright, well…?” she looked between the three boys expectantly, they were all staring at her, waiting to see what she had to say.
She raised her eyebrows, not believing they had already forgotten about the injured kid.
“The kid? Bleeding out somewhere? We gonna help him or what?”
Shock washed over them and Eddie and Stan took off around the corner, and Y/n followed. Bill walked after them to the alley, seeming to linger by the entrance to the store to wait for Bev.
Y/n hobbled down the alley and by the time she got there Eddie was already knelt down in front of Ben. He was riling through his supplies, and Ben lifted his shirt.
Y/n noticed Richie Tozier had been waiting with the injured boy. Poor kid, she thought. When Richie saw her, he adjusted his glasses and smiled smugly.
“Hey, toots!”
Y/n plastered on an obviously fake smile and tilted her head. “Hey, dick.”
Letting the name roll off his back he smiled, Richie clicked his tongue and winked. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Despite her annoyance, a small chuckle escaped her mouth and she rolled her eyes. She was now looking at the kid who sat on some crates, the small boy tending to his wound. She winced, and took a seat next to him, relieved to get off her bad ankle.
“So,” she said simply, drawing the boy’s attention. “Whatcha in for?”
He tilted his head, clearly confused. She extended her bad leg and pointed to it.
“Bad leg,”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly and he looked back to her. “Some gnarly cuts. What about you?”
“Oh, uh, well same I guess.” He said, and she nodded.
"Just suck the wound.“ The two looked up to see Richie who addressed the smaller boy.
He immediately grew impatient, trying desperately not to get distracted.
"I really need to focus right now.”
“You need to focus?”
“Yeah, can you go get me something?”
“Jesus! What do you need?”
“Go get my bifocals. I hid ‘em in my second fanny pack.”
Y/n leaned forward, interested and slightly amused. “You have a second fanny pack?”
The other boy, who was standing near her nodded. “Yeah, why do you have two?”
“I need to focus right now and it’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it.”
Bill, who had been lingering at the end of the alley, heard the jingle of the store bell and he stepped back out on the sidewalk. Beverly was leaving the store and she walked towards him, knowing her friend must be nearby. Bill could have sworn timed slowed when she smiled. Nervously, Bill reached into his pocket, pulling out a couple of dollars and offered it to her.
“T-t-thanks.”
She held up a pack of smokes and winked. “Even stephen.”
Her attention was drawn to the voices coming from the alley.
“Oh, God, he’s bleeding! Oh, my God!” It was Stanley.
She saw Y/n and the boys crowded around a familiar face, she smiled fondly and headed their way. “Ben from soch?”
“You have to suck the wound before you apply the Band-Aids. This is 101!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben looked up from the bickering duo and at the figure walking down the alley. His pulse quickened ever so slightly at the beautiful sight of Beverly Marsh.
“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly as she approached them. “That looks like it hurts.”
Ben shifted nervously and smiled. “Oh. No, I’m good. I just fell.”
Richie scoffed. “Yeah, right into Henry Bowers.”
Bill panicked, and shushed the boy, much to Beverly’s confusion. Y/n grew curious too.
“Why? It’s the truth.” Richie defended.
Beverly took a step forward, smiling coyly at Ben. “You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?”
She winked and Ben felt his heart might explode. He smiled bashfully and looked down at the ground.
At that moment, the smaller boy had finished tending to him and had moved over to face Y/n’s leg. She hadn’t been paying attention and was surprised when she felt a tug on the cloth and she hissed in pain, drawing everyone’s attention.
Eddie hesitated and looked up at her apologetically. “Oh, sorry. This is okay, right? That I do this? It’s just that right now you’re exposing yourself to hundreds and thousands of bacteria and infection and this really needs to be checked out, so unless you’re on your way to the hospital anytime time soon, I really think I-”
Y/n chuckled and nodded her head, cutting him off.
“Yes! Yes, it’s okay. I’d really appreciate it,” she smiled warmly, growing fond of this kid already. “I’m Y/n, by the way. Y/n L/n.”
He nodded his head and for a moment he forgot how to speak. “Uh, Y/- Eddie. Eddie. I’m, Eddie. Kaspbrak.”
Amused, she watched Eddie get to work. She heard him mutter something about how he should have grabbed latex gloves, and he gagged when he pulled the cloth off her leg. Everyone’s attention was pulled back to her and Eddie when he held the blood-soaked cloth far away from himself. Tossing it a few feet away from himself, they heard it land on the pavement with a sopping wet slap.
Everyone, save for Beverly and Y/n, were shocked to see her actual wound. And poor Eddie looked as if he would faint.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my-”
“Holy, fuck!”
“S-s-shit,”
“That’s why we came here. All we could find was that cloth.”
“Oh my God, where’s the gauze?” He looked to Richie in a panic. “Where’s the fucking gauze?”
“Here take mine,” Y/n shoved her grocery bag at him and he took it gladly.
He unwrapped the gauze and applied several strips to her leg in order to cover each cut. She leaned down, placing her hand on some of them to keep them in place for him while he unwrapped the bandages.
“W-what happened anyway?” Bill looked between Y/n and Beverly.
Bev shrugged, and Y/n grew quiet, her eyes shifting around. “cat,”
Beverly frowned, clearly not buying it, knowing there wasn’t any cat around when I happened. Y/n met her eye, giving her. a look that screamed “Just please go with it,” And Bev let it go, for now.
“What kind of cat could’ve done that?” Asked the boy with curly hair.
Before Y/n could make up a lie, Richie jumped in, scoffing. “The bullshit kind, that’s what.”
Y/n gave him a weak glare, letting her eyes fix on her leg as it was being wrapped up.
“Thank you, Eddie.”
“Sure thing.” He was just finishing up applying the special ace bandage tape from her bag. “You’re all set.”
She gave him a warm smile and stood, wincing less. She smiled at the feeling. “It feels better already. Thanks again.”
He nodded and stood to his feet.
“Well, I guess we better get going.” Y/n said looking at Bev, who nodded.
“Uh, t-thanks again, Beverly,” Bill said, referring to her distraction.
She smiled. “Sure. Maybe we’ll see you around.”
“Y-yeah, we were thinking about on-going to the q-q-quarry tomorrow,” he looked to Eddie briefly with a smirk, before returning his gaze to the two girls. “if you guys wanna come.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” She replied.
Y/n joined Beverly by her side, her bag of supplies she had retrieved in hand, and smiled. “Yeah, maybe we’ll see you guys there.”
Her eyes landed on Eddie and he stood to his feet, much too fast. A pink hue dusting his cheeks. Y/n shared a nod with Beverly and the two were off, both of them casting a glance and wave at the group of boys before disappearing around the corner.
Stanley turned quickly on Richie. “Nice going bringing up Bowers in front of Beverly.”
“Yeah, dude, you heard what she did.”
Ben, who had remained silent on the cartons, spoke up curiously. “What’d she do?”
Richie smirked. “More like 'Who’d she do?’ From what I hear, the list is longer than my wang.”
“That’s not saying much.” Stan retorted, rolling his eyes.
Bill jumped in, his stutter got stronger. “T-t-they’re j-just rumors.”
“Anyway,” Richie continued, addressing Ben. “Bill had her back in third grade. They kissed in the school play. The reviews said you can’t fake that sort of passion.”
Ben’s heart sank, not in the least bit intrigued. And his sudden somber went completely unnoticed by the bickering boys. And somehow, all of them failed to notice the new figure painted behind the tire in the mural of the Bradley gang behind them. It was the pale white face of a clown, with a big crooked smile, and large tufts of orange hair and beady yellow eyes, right where Y/n’s head had been. It had been watching all of them.
+++
@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovawriting @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader @eggytozier @annimalq @lexylovesfandoms @russian-romanova @paigey-mcfreedomly
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“Thankful” (happy ending AU Reddiefic, Secret Santa gift!)
Hi there @pawprinterfanfic! I’m your secret santa for the @itfandompromptssecret santa gift exchange! I’m sorry its almost midnight, I was at a holiday event with my family, but I had such a wonderful time writing this for you and I hope you have an absolutely blessed holiday season! With all of my love and warm wishes, enjoy!
Summary: The Thanksgiving after Pennywise finally goes to wherever evil killer clowns go, The Losers have a lot to be thankful for, Richie and Eddie most of all.
(Happy ending AU where Stan went back to Derry, and because of that, they all lived.)
Rating: T, because Richie has a mouth on him.
It snows on Thanksgiving in Derry. Richie Tozier forgot how much he hated that shit. He’s sulking around Mike’s (admittedly incredible and way more spacious than he’d realized at first,) apartment over the library, and he can feel two pairs of eyes on him - Eddie, from his now customary, since coming home, finally, from the hospital, place on the window seat by the round window that looked out over the town square, and Sprinkles, the cat that Richie was unsure if Beverly had actually adopted from the shelter in town for Mike, or had merely found on the street and claimed as theirs. Ben would be the first to tell you, she definitely had a way of taking in strays.
“What exactly are you two doing to that poor thing?” Eddie calls, book long forgotten, and Sprinkles, who has made herself comfortable in his lap, makes a quiet little mrrrr noise of curiosity of her own.
Still squinting at the cookbook open in front of him, one hand menacingly clutching an entire stick of butter that’s melting rapidly in the heat of his hands over the turkey, resting on a bed of potatoes and carrots in what he’s been told is called a ‘roasting pan.’ Richie is not, nor has he ever been a great cook, but he and Bill will be damned if they can’t figure out what Martha Stewart called the “idiot proof” turkey earlier that day on television while the others are rushing about doing the rest of the things required for the day to be perfect. And the day would be perfect, damn it, if it was the last thing Richie did: they had so much to be thankful for. He felt the familiar flood of emotion in his chest when it hit him again, just how grateful he was. Pennywise was gone, for good, and Eddie’d lived. He thought he’d known fear before they went into that cistern, or when he saw those massive spider legs, or what he saw in the deadlights, but he had never known fear like the blur of minutes of carrying Eddie from that awful place, turned to the hours of sitting on the floor in a hospital hallway, Eddie’s blood darkening on the front of his shirt, turned to the days of waiting for him to wake up. He also thought he’d, at least at some point in his life, known happiness, and relief, but he hadn’t, until finally he was roused from sleep by the hand he’d held for so long, wishing and hoping and even praying, curling around his.
That’d been July, it was the end of November now and everything between that was a blur. That first night, everyone slept on chairs in the hospital, but eventually bags were collected from the Townhouse and migrated to Mike’s. “No friends of mine are going to keep living in that shithole for god knows how long,” the librarian had harrumphed at them, making up his sole guest room (never used,) pulling out his couch, and sending Ben to buy air mattresses. If Richie was smuggled there, ‘home,’ to sleep in those early weeks, he doesn’t remember. He remembers being absolutely unwilling to let Eddie out of his sight, lest he disappear, lest this not actually all be real, lest this be some fever dream in the deadlights, but then eventually he remembers waking up with the golden light of a late summer sunset falling over him, bundled under a pile of blankets in that guest room, Beverly sitting next to him, watching tv.
“I need to get back to the hospital,” he’d rasped at her, reaching for his glasses.
“You need to go back to sleep,” she’d murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes with sisterly affection. He had.
The weather grew cold, and the leaves turned the brilliant colors of fall in Maine, something else Richie had forgotten, and forgotten that he’d loved. One day, between the hospital and home, when Stan’s wife, Patty, who he’d begun to think of as the group’s tiny little blonde guardian angel, ushered him into a Halloween store to find Eddie “something seasonal to brighten that room up!” Richie realized that…none of them had gone home.
“Wait!” he surprised Patty by how quickly he sort of…grabbed her. She responded by turning and giving him a tight hug, to which he replied, feeling like a dunce, with “Don’t you all have lives?”
She blinked up at him, “Hm?”
“You flew all the way up here the second Stan called you. Audra came out. None of you have gone home. What about your jobs? Your houses? Your lives?”
“You’re family. Eddie’s family. You all need us.”
“Yes, Patty, and we love you very much, but the logistics-”
“We all figured, we’re…established, enough,” she shrugged, “We’ve all done well, Trashmouth. We’re in a position to be here, so we are. And besides,” she giggled brightly, “Ben is loaded.”
He laughed. She laughed. They left with a stuffed monkey dressed up as a mummy. Eddie would hate it.
The week before Thanksgiving, they sprung him. Until you really got to know Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie explained, he was a charming son of a bitch and had somehow convinced the nurses that that was his true nature.
Eddie, seated on the edge of his hospital bed as Richie stooped to tie his shoes for him, groaned, “Yes, Richie. I love you, too.”
Eddie got the guest room after that, which meant that Richie, who’d insisted on an air mattress and that someone else take that bed, was back in that cozy room, and for the first time since that awful day on Neibolt Street, since the nights before, hiding, sneaking from one room to another, Richie slept with Eddie in his arms, the cold sweating of nightmares gone, beaten back by the warmth, the solidity of the other man. Eddie was there, Eddie was real, and Eddie was alive.
So yes, even as he stood there, holding a half melting stick of butter that he was pretty sure that he was about to unceremoniously shove up a turkey’s ass, Richie Tozier was grateful.
“Rich? Hellllloooooooooo. Earth to Richie,” Bill waved a hand in his face, “Psst. You in there?”
Richie shook his thoughts clear, “Yeah, uh..yeah. I’m here. Sorry. Shit. What do I do with this?”
Bill looked back at the cookbook, then at the butter, then back to the cookbook, and sighed with relief, “Thank fuck. We rub it under the skin-”
“It puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again!” Richie couldn’t help himself, voice and all.
“Jesus Christ, Richie.”
“It’s so the turkey doesn’t get dry!” Eddie called from the window seat, “Please don’t make me get up and come over there.”
“The turkey is not going to be dry, Eduardo!” Richie called back, and passed the now slippery stick of what surely was not butter but felt like pure grease, and was probably, in all actuality, the margarine that Eddie tried to convince them caused cancer if eaten literally ever at all, unceremoniously to a very confused Bill. “Here, you handle this, Big Bill,” he said, and wandered off to entertain Eddie and the cat before the former could offer any more unsolicited advice. Bill blinked at him, and sighed - some people never change, not even almost three decades and a murdered clown later. He was definitely going to need a drink.
+++
It was margarine and the turkey was dry (due, however, more to Bill getting a little tipsy and not setting his timer for the right amount of time after he stuffed the turkey into the apartment’s small-ish oven, than to any lack of comprehension from two grown men of at least above average intelligence but very little usable kitchen skill about what to do with butter on Thanksgiving when cooking,) but they were all too wrapped up in the warm glow of the occasion to notice once they all finally sat down to eat, Mike doing the honors of carving the bird expertly for someone who, the night before, had confessed that he not only hadn’t done a real Thanksgiving in twenty seven years but was also a vegetarian. Patty led the table in a round of applause as he took a small bow before sitting down, his grin wide and bright.
Everyone looked expectantly to Bill, at the head of the table, always their leader, who looked, lost to his wife. Audra chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze under the table, “Should we say grace?”
“I will! I will!” Richie offered, to only mild protest, “Everybody hold hands, c’mon, pretend like we like each other, c’mon, c’mon.” The Losers, and their now honorary members, Audra and Patty, obliged, and Richie cleared his throat, bowing his head, “Dear Lord, we uh…thank you for…this day and these people and stuff and for that time that Jesus kid was…in Turkey and he…did some stuff-”
“Richie we’re Jewish why are you talking about Jesus,” Stan muttered.
Richie, unfazed continued, “Or maybe today we just have turkey, maybe he wasn’t in turkey, wait…is that why we have turkey, is it-”
“Heeeeeeeey, I have an idea,” Ben interjected, “Instead of…whatever that was, why don’t we all just say something we’re thankful for? It’s been one hell of a year, and I have a lot I’m thankful for now.”
“Great idea!” Bev lit up, smiling up at him, “I’ll go first. This year, I’m thankful for all of you, and I’m thankful for Ben, and,” she peeked under the table at Ben’s large German Shepherd, his bowl already emptied between his paws, waiting for table scraps, “Scout down there, and Sprinkles, wherever she got to.”
“Same,” Ben seconded, “All of you and Bev and…our freedom.”
Patty raised her water glass, “I think that’s worth toasting. No more clowns!”
To the clink of glasses, they echoed, “No more clowns.”
“I’m thankful for Mike!” Bill went next, “I mean, yes, I’m thankful for all of you. Audra, Stan, all of you, I mean that. But Mikey…dude, you st-stayed here f-f-for us. You remembered.”
“And then you took us all in!” Beverly added.
Mike ducked his head, “Thank you. I’d do it again. I’m thankful you all came back.”
“I’m thankful that Bill called me, after Mike did,” Stan said softly, “I was in a bad place and…about to do something drastic,” his voice was barely audible at the other end of the table, “And I would have never gotten to see us all this happy.”
Patty wrapped her arm around his and kissed his shoulder, “I’m thankful for that, too. And that you’ve all let me be a part of this family.”
“Same here,” Audra offered. A chorus of ‘we love you’s and ‘of course you’re part of this family’ went up to the both of them.
“I’m thankful to be alive,” said Eddie, “I’m thankful that I get to…actually live my life now. I feel like I went from my mother to Myra and-”
“I’m thankful for divorce attornies,” Richie muttered.
“Beep beep, Richie,” Beverly muttered.
Eddie continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “Like, yeah, I almost died which is extremely fucking weird to say or even…think about…but…I get to live now. I’m not under mom’s thumb. I’m not under Myra’s thumb-”
“You just have me wrapped around your little finger,” Richie’s smile, for once, wasn’t wry or sardonic, but warm, and gentle and his eyes were so soft as he looked at the other man.
Under the table, Eddie slipped his hand into Richie’s and squeezed it three times: I love you. “You love it.”
“I do.”
“And what about you, Rich?” Stan asked, beaming, “What are you thankful for? Besides Eddie’s divorce attorney, I mean.”
“A lot,” Richie was surprisingly quiet, and reverent, “Everything? All of you? That…I finally get to spend the rest of my life next to this weird little gremlin-”
“Hey-”
“Who I love more than anything in the world. Who I never stopped loving, not for a second. Who my heart always remembered.”
Their eyes met, Eddie’s filling with tears.
Ding, ding, ding! Patty tapped her spoon on her glass, and soon the others joined her, “Kiss! Kiss!”
That cold, snowy Thanksgiving night, in a warm apartment in Derry, Maine, filled with love and friendship, Richie Tozier kissed Eddie Kaspbrak, and everything was absolutely golden.
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What if IT was a series?
If I was ever given the chance to make Stephen King’s IT into a series, well I don’t know who would want to watch It besides myself, because I like when things develop slowly, and you also get to see how the characters just live their life, outside of the supernatural things happening in their lives.
Both the films and the mini-series started by showing Georgie’s death and then jumped straight to the summer holidays, got the Losers together and then on to fight Pennywise. But that just skips over so much.
I would want to start before Georgie’s death to establish who the characters were before IT began. Just an establishing episode where you get to see the Losers with their families, their friends, and in school. Maybe end the episode with the heavy rain, that caused the flooding which was when the wakening of IT happened. Derry was flooding in October and the adults were scared that it would be much worse than it was, as that disaster had happened before. The next episode is when the water was receding and that then is when Georgie dies and the Losers are marked, and the story truly starts. But instead of jumping straight to the summer holidays I would want to show that long year, because so much is happening that just normally isn’t part of the story.
You would get to see how Bill is just more and more neglected by his parents who just can’t get passed the loss of their youngest son, to the point that they don’t have a care for the eldest any longer. But Bill also have, I can’t remember if it’s just one or if it’s two, episodes where he has a run in with Pennywise in Georgie’s room, with his photo album. His struggles with his stammering, and him saving up to buy, shall we call it a death wish, Silver, his bike, as well as his friendship with Eddie, Richie, and Stan.
There’s Eddie, who is being abused by his mom, and his struggle between wanting to please her, and wanting to do the same things as his friends. There is also Eddie's own run in with Pennywise on Neibolt Street and the Neibolt House.
And Richie and his voices which he practices at the dinner table together with his dad. Constantly getting into trouble because he just can’t keep his mouth shut, and his love of horror movies. As well as meeting Pennywise, even if he never ever tells the other Losers that he too had had an experience of his own, because he just won’t admit that that really happened.
And Stan, who is Jewish but rarely goes to the Synagogue because there isn’t one in Derry, and doesn’t even know the meaning of the word kosher. Who loves his family and shares an interest in watching birds together with his dad. Who is fastidious (not OCD, no matter what the fandom has since decided), and has the strangest sense of humour. Who when he met Pennywise in the old water tower in the park, in the form of two drowned children, wasn’t so much scared as he was absolutely offended.
There’s Beverly who is being abused by her father (in the book it’s quite clear that she wasn’t sexually molested at least up until that summer, but what happened after that we don’t know), who lives with a mother, who knows her husband is abusing her daughter as well as herself, and at least suspects that her husband might start molesting her daughter but who wouldn’t dream of leaving him, because living with an abusing, drunk, probably child molester, is still so much better than being on state welfare. Beverly who wears her bruises visible but still being badass and stealing her cigarets despite knowing that if she is caught she will be beaten. Who is sometimes trying to be more like the other girls, but more comfortable being a tomboy. Who until the summer holidays are mostly on the outskirts of the group, but sometimes hang out with the other Losers. She is the only one who didn’t have a run in with Pennywise before the Summer holidays.
There’s Ben who is new to Derry, and absolutely alone, but wouldn’t have understood the question if you had asked him if he was ever lonely. Who reads tons of books and loves the library, and spends his money on sweets. Who is well aware that he is overweight which is why he is being bullied the way that he is, but is still badass enough to not let Henry Bowers copy his answers in an exam, despite knowing that that is going to cost him. And who loves Architecture, and knows how to build a dam and an underground club house without really knowing how. Who has a mother who tries her best, but clearly doesn’t have clue what her son’s doing during the day, and who keeps saying that he is not fat he is just big boned, because she has equated her ability to put food on the table and Ben never being hungry, with the pride she takes in being able to provide for him on her own without relying on state welfare. And Ben who ran into Pennywise on his own on a cold January evening, but also shows the resilience of children, as after a shower, some food, and sitting in front of the TV he has completely put the incidence out of his head.
And Mike, who is an outsider not just because he goes to a different school out on Neibolt Street, but also because he and his family are the only black people in Derry. His love of history and the history of Derry, a passion he got and shares with his dad. His life on the family farm and the strife between the Hanlon’s and the Bowers’. Him playing his trombone which he plays during the Fourth of July parade through Derry. The obvious love between Mike and his parents because Mike’s got the best parents. And his experience with Pennywise in April out at the abandoned Kitchener Ironworks. And the huge rock fight that brings the Losers together on the third of July.
But besides the Losers there would also be more focus on Derry itself. Probably from Mike’s dad telling Mike about the stories he had collected, starting with the burning of the Black Spot because he himself was there when it happened. But also how the people in Derry sort of know what is going on but there’s just such an apathy that they can’t break through. There are more children going missing and being found dead during that year, and quite similar to the school shootings happening now in America, people just can’t bring themselves to care. They have simply gotten use to it. They order a curfew, are shocked when the children goes missing and when they are found, they offer their thoughts and prayers, and hope that they will be spared from that pain, but after a couple of days have forgotten about it, and the only people who remembers are the families of the victims.
Despite children going missing, the children are still left to their own devices. And then there’s also the slow descend into insanity of Henry Bowers, through the influence of Pennywise, and how his bullying is becoming more violent.
And when it comes to the Summer holidays when the fight against Pennywise truly starts, there are so many great scenes. The two times Bill and Richie have encounters with Pennywise, in Georgie’s room and on Neibolt Street. Beverley encountering Pennywise for the first time. How the Losers just click, how they all have a sense of who is part of the Losers and who just isn’t. When Eddie break his arm, both because this is a turning point for Henry Bowers as he realizes that he can scare even adults and no longer need to be scared of them, but also because Eddie blackmails his mom into letting him hang out with his friends from his hospital bed. The Losers creating silver slugs and finding out that Beverley is totally badass with a slingshot, and the epic showdown in Neibolt House when they realize that they can hurt Pennywise as long as they believe. Richie, Beverly and Ben hanging out in a movie theatre and turn the table on Henry Bowers and his gang. And just the general fun they had together playing in the Barrens, at the dump, or in the quarry. The juxtaposition between them just being children playing and then having to face the horrors of Derry. And of course the last time they face Pennywise as children and hope they have defeated him.
I don’t know if I would want to set it in the 1950’s as it was in the book, or in the late 1980’s or early 1990’s. That would depend on if I would take the story further and into their adulthood, and whether or not I would want them to remember Derry or not.
If It's just them as children then I would want to keep the story setting in the 1950’s as that would make some things easier, like explaining just why Mike’s family is the only Black family in Derry.
Likewise if they, like in the book, forget about Derry, I would also want to set it in the 1950’s. The pros of them forgetting is their reaction to relearning their childhoods in Derry. I think the shock of his suddenly remembering Derry is what drove Stan over the edge and caused his suicide. I think he remembered more and understood Pennywise in a way the others didn’t. They just feared him, but for Stan Pennywise was also breaking the laws of nature and going against all that should be possible.
Them forgetting would also explain just why Eddie and Beverly ended up victims of copies of their parents. They forgot the lessons they had learned and the courage they had found fighting Pennywise, and instead fell into the same patterns as they had always lived by.
But if they instead somewhat continued to remember Derry, then I think it would make sense to set in later. If they were eleven or twelve in the late 1980’s or early 1990’s then there aren’t that many years until Myspace and Facebook come into existence, and they could reconnect that way. If the Losers somewhat forgot Derry as their families or they themselves moved away from Derry, but then when they saw a name they somewhat recognized on Myspace or Facebook and friended them, and then the real memories of Derry start coming back. It would mean changing the grownup Losers’ stories but maybe that’s not a bad idea. There could be a focus on how they learned to work through the trauma they experienced as children and them reliving memories that they had suppressed until that point, while it would also be somewhat strange for the world to see how seven friends from some small town, who not only were considered losers but called themselves Losers, would all become famous and experts within their chosen fields. Mike would also be able to leave Derry as a guard is no longer necessary. All the while they all have this feeling that their fight against Pennywise isn’t over, and as the new cycle is coming to end and Pennywise is waking up, their memories of what happened are becoming more intense, more vivid, and more real. Before they have to go back and fight him one more time, hoping that this time it was over.
I have always loved IT and the ambience of the book, especially when reading about them as children, because there is just such a juxtaposition between the nostalgic remembrance of what the 1950’s should be like, with children running free and playing outside in an endless summer, and then the horror that lies just under the surface, a horror that’s accepted if never really spoken about by the adults.
I would love to explore Derry as a character whose layers are slowly pealed away. A character that’s understood better by the children than by the adults. A show that’s full of horror but takes its time to truly experience the ambience, of what it would be like to live in Derry. Unlike the fast paced shows of today, where everything happens so quickly and suddenly half the town’s involved in what was supposed to be a secret, and nobody takes the time to truly explore. But I don’t know. Maybe I am the only one who would want to see such a version of IT. What would you do if you could make IT?
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Bill Denbrough is a story-teller.
Need somebody to tell you what happened on last night’s showing of Saturday Night Live? Richie Tozier’ll do the job just fine, sure, but if you find him chances are good you’ll find Denbrough too, and he’ll make you feel as though you’re in the audience, staring right at the actors and actresses themselves. Didn’t feel like reading a book, but have to turn in an essay about it in an hour? Bill won’t write the essay for you, but he’ll tell the story as though he lived it himself and make it come alive clearer than any movie or SparkNotes article ever could. Words are both his home and weapon of choice- they are where he goes to rest and what he uses to look the world squarely in the eye, accept it for the shit-show it is, and continue on. It is because of all this, and because of their love and reverence for him, that Richie and Stan so easily believe his story about Georgie’s reappearance. And it is because of this that Bill manages to convince both of them to spend their Saturday locked inside the Derry City Library, scouring book after book for an explanation to their situation.
The table they’ve occupied for the better part of two hours now is completely filled with books. There are some on psychology and mental health, others on poltergeists and demons, ESP and clairvoyance, ley-lines, mediums, spirits, psychics, religions of all kinds, and all other things paranormal or strange. Every now and then, Stan looks up from his notes and glares at the mess before him, as though willing it to disappear. His side of the table is neatly arranged, with a hefty stack of books on his left and pages of notes on his right. Periodically, Richie stands up quietly and takes a stroll through the shelves, shaking excess energy out through his hands and making idle chatter with disgruntled library-goers who would much rather be left alone. His side of the table is busy but not particularly messy, with a few books open at once and a page filled with messy handwriting and scribbled doodles sitting off to the side. Every few minutes, Bill glances to his right to see how Georgie is fairing in their new surroundings and his stomach drops, like he’s seeing his dead brother’s figure for the first time. His side of the table is empty save for one book, opened to one of the earlier pages, his chair angled as far to the left as possible.
All three (living) boys jump as a large pile of books are dropped on the table. Mr. Cunningham, Derry’s only librarian, dusts his hands off and sighs. He stares daggers at the dozens of books already scattered across the table, imagining all the shelving he’ll be doing once the boys leave. Stan coughs to grab his attention and offers a slow, easy smile. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Cunningham. We really appreciate your help.”
Mr. Cunningham smiles back, previous displeasure forgotten. Bill and Richie share a glance, and Bill doesn’t try to hide his grin when Richie sticks a finger down his throat. If Bill’s talent is storying telling, Stan’s is kiss-assery. “My pleasure, Mr. Uris. Let me know if you need anything else,” he turns to Bill and Richie. Richie opens his mouth to say something, but Bill gives his foot a good warning kick before anything can come out. “You boys make sure to clean up after yourselves.”
Richie, lounging in the chair on Bill’s other side, pretends to shoot the librarian with double finger guns as he walks away. “God,” he groans. “Why do adults always look at you like they want you to suck their dicks?”
Stan smirks as he sorts through the new books, distributing an even amount to each of them. “Someone should warn them they’ll have to get in line.”
“Wowza wowza,” Richie grins. “Who gets to go first, me or Billy boy here?”
Stan absentmindedly flips through the pages of a book. “Who said you would be taking turns?”
Richie considers that for a moment. He leans forward in his seat, his eyes following Stan’s long, graceful fingers as they turn page after page. His face turns a splotchy, excited red, like he wishes Stan’s fingers were busy doing something else. He coughs. “Is it weird to get a hard-on in a library?”
Stanley doesn’t look up as he neatly writes something onto a sheet of paper. “No. I’m sure Mr. Cunningham will be very flattered to know you think so much of him.”
Bill clears his throat.
“Sorry,” Stan offers Bill a small, guilty smile. He shoots a glare in Richie’s direction. “Let’s get back to work.”
“Wuh-wuh-well,” Bill starts, looking down at the single book in front of him. He’d picked it from the pile on a whim, its plain, weathered cover certainly not making it the most interesting book of the bunch. Nonetheless, the first page had caught his attention and managed to hold it for a good two hours. He places it in the middle of the table, and Richie and Stan lean forward to get a better look at it. “I duh-duh-duh-oh-oh-n’t think w-w-we n-need to luh-luh-ook a-anymore.”
Stan raises an eyebrow. “This is a book about ghosts, Bill.”
“Har de har har,” Richie mimes a laugh, but his face is pale. “That’s real funny, Denbrough. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw the ghost of Stan’s virginity in the back of my mom’s Honda Accord. Should we be worrying about that, too, ‘cause I think the warranty is about to-”
“Wuh-wuh-why,” Bill interrupts.“d-did we even geh-geh-get b-books about th-th-this sah-sah-stuff if you guh-guys th-think it’s suh-suh-something eh-eh-else?”
Stan looks at Bill, eyes full of pity and exhaustion. “Come on. You can’t really think George-, a ghost is following you around.”
“Wuh-wuh-ood y-you rather him b-be here b-b-because of Pah-Pah-Pah-Pah-”
“Uh,” now it’s Richie’s turn to interrupt. “I’d like to take a minute to remind the audience that we killed that son of a bitch, like, a long time ago.
Stan slowly sits back in his seat, staring off into the distance, past Richie’s head. He shudders, like he sees something there that has no resemblance to the quiet rows of books that surround them. “We don’t know for sure he’s dead.”
Richie lets out a strangled laugh. His face is a sickly white, like he’s going to need to know the quickest way to the bathroom in a minute or two. “Do you remember what he looked like before he fell down that stinkin’ hole in the earth? If that motherfucker’s alive, I’m-”
“S-s-so you th-think it’s a guh-guh-ghost, t-too?”
Richie frowns. “Now, listen, I never said that.”
“Th-th-then wuh-wuh- what ?”
“I mean,” Richie shifts anxiously in his seat. He places two of his books in the middle of the table, on top of Bill’s and flips through them for a moment, looking for specific pages. “take a look at this. It could be somethin’ like high levels of mold in your house or, hell, I don’t know, stress-induced hallucinations or some shit. But it’s not ghosts and it’s not the fucking clown.”
“I’m nuh-nuh-nuh-not kuh-kuh-razy.”
“That’s not what he’s saying, Bill.” Stan takes one of Richie’s books, eyes scanning it hopefully.
“Of course not,” Richie worriedly runs a hand through his hair. It falls over his eyes and, for a moment, he looks just like he did five years ago. Scared and small and not at all ready to face the ugly truth that lives under Derry. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and the resemblance is gone.“I just- if it is a ghost, and I’m not saying I think it is, what next? We get a cool van and a talking dog, buy Bev a purple dress and call ourselves the Mystery Gang?”
Bill sits up straight in his chair and puts on the face he used to get them all to follow him into Neibolt all those years ago. “Wuh-wuh-we’re nah-nah-not t-telling th-the uh-uh-others about Juh-Juh-Georgie.”
Stan and Richie stare at Bill for a moment, eyes wide with shock (in Richie’s case) and frustration (in Stan’s). Stan closes his eyes and rubs his temples.
Richie’s shock quickly simmers into hurt and quiet indignation. Bill might be the leader of this operation, but they were a team of seven members, no matter what. “Now, wait just a minute-”
A small, quiet cough from the end of the table reminds the three of them that they are not alone. They aren’t in the clubhouse or the Barrens, or even crammed together, knees overlapping, on Bill’s bed. They’re just three boys with voices that are filled with too much fear and unspoken anger for a library, speaking too loudly about things better discussed in private.
They looked up to see a girl, about their age, glancing uncomfortably at each of their faces. For a moment, Bill thinks she stares right past him, right at Georgie, but then her eyes reach Stan’s and her face visibly brightens, like she’s found a lifeboat amongst a storm of angsty teenagers and sad, invisible, dead boys. “Stan! Sorry. For interrupting, I mean. I just, uh. Do you guys have,” she holds out a tiny slip of paper to Stan. “that?”
Stan takes a deep breath, pushing down the stress and worry their conversation had created enough to force his mouth into a tight smile. “I don’t think so,” he stands, eager to leave. “I can help you look for it though, if you want.”
Relief floods her face. “Would you really?”
“Of course,” Stan turns to face Richie and Bill. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. He shoots them both a frustrated glare. “I’ll be back.”
Richie slumps in his chair and watches Stan and the girl walk away. He can tell by the tightness in Stan’s shoulders that he hasn’t forgotten what they’ve been talking about, but his face is light and he says something that makes the girl laugh. A few steps later they’re out of sight and Richie slumps even further down into his chair, so that Bill can only see the top of his head. “Who was that?”
Bill crosses his arms on the table and puts his head down on top of them. Georgie watches him do so. “S-s-some new guh-guh-irl in one of S-s-stan’s c-c-classes. Puh-puh-atty, I th-think.”
Richie glares moodily at his corner of the table. Fucking ghosts, messing everything up. Fucking clowns. Fucking Derry. He waits for his stomach to calm down before speaking again. “This fucking sucks, man.”
Bill glances at Georgie and fights the urge to cry. “T-t-tell muh-muh-me a-about it.”
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Sometimes . . . Dead Is Better
Chapters: 1/4
Fandom: IT
Rating: E
Warnings: Character Death, Zombie(?), Literally Pet Sematary. Gay bashing. Homophobia. Murder. Animal death.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, lots of death.
Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild, @tozierking,
You know what they say about Derry, no one who dies here ever really dies.
IT + Pet Semetary = fun times for no one involved
It all started when their dog passed away.
They had decided to spend their summer vacation in Maine, a terrible decision on their parents as the city had far more to offer than their sleepy little town. Eddie had just started a new job and was only given a week to take off during the months of June to August. They chose July because that’s when it would be the least offensively hot in Maine.
Richie had landed a pretty sweet job interviewing celebrities for Podcasts. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do with his life, but he’d take it over being unemployed. Rather than sit around in their apartment for a week like Richie had hoped they would, they packed up their travel-sized belongings and headed back to the town they grew up in.
Despite his mother begging him to stay in his old childhood bedroom, Eddie put his foot down and settled to rent a room in the local townhouse. Sonia Kaspbrak wasn’t happy about it, but so long as Eddie was back, she’d deal.
Richie was content with this choice. For one, his own family no longer lived in Derry, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere to offer. Second, Eddie’s bedroom, which was basically a shrine to the poor guy, was too small for them to both fits. Not that Sonia would even allow Richie to stay there. She had never lived Richie, neither as Eddie’s friend or boyfriend, so Richie was sure if they were going to stay at the Kaspbrak house, he’d be sleeping on that uncomfortable couch.
Luckily, Eddie cared about his well being enough to not force him to do that and they got themselves a room with a mattress big enough for them both.
It started off pretty good. Eddie’s mother was beginning him to come over and spend time with her, wanting him to use up all seven days with just her. He compromised and gave as much time as he could while also meeting up with some old friends. Mike Hanlon still lived in Derry, running the library as the local historian.
Most of the group had moved on out of Derry, choosing to have lives of their own. The only ones they saw often enough were Bill Denbrough and Stanley Uris, who went back and forth from Long Island to California depending on whether or not Bill’s latest novel was to be turned into a script. The last time Richie and Eddie saw Ben Hanscom and Beverly (formerly Marsh) Hanscom was when they announced the birth of their first child.
It was tough growing up and growing apart from the people you always left closest to. Eddie and Richie were lucky as they always had each other. Through all the ups and downs, the trials and tribulations, Eddie had Richie and Richie had Eddie. It wasn’t easy because hello, being gay in Maine was never easy, but they made it work back in high school and they’d make it work here.
The first day had been them getting comfortable and meeting up with Mike for dinner. It was nice seeing a friendly face to talk about all the things that changed. The Aladdin was still standing, still looking as beaten up as ever. The standpipe was still the obnoxious eyesore that made the town look ever so picturesque. Keene’s drug store was still around and Richie made sure to tease Eddie about picking up his inhaler replacement.
They hung out and enjoyed themselves in the townhouse. Eddie was still iffy about certain things and made sure to change the sheets on the bed with the ones they had brought from home. It was for the best and Richie wasn’t going to argue with him, especially since Eddie was more than kind enough to allow Richie to messy them up in their own way when they got home from dinner.
It was the following day that everything turned to shit. Eddie had promised to spend the entire day with his mother, leaving Richie to fend for himself in the penthouse. Along with their luggage, they also brought along with dog Penny. She was a preciously little Pomeranian who was sweeter than candy and the apple of their eye. They had been thinking of getting a pet for a while and after finally buying a place of their own, they went down to the shelter to pick one out.
Pure breed dogs like Penny weren’t usually brought to places like that, rather sold by a breeder, but they were in luck. Her mother had been put up for adoption while pregnant and the puppies were scattered across the shelter. They took the smallest one because it reminded Richie so much of Eddie and welcomed her into their home.
They weren’t too sure where the name came from. Richie joked that they called her Penny because she was dirt cheap compared to so many other dogs that literally cost you an arm and a leg just to have. Eddie liked to think they got it from “Penny Lane” the Beatle song, but neither was right or wrong.
Now, the thing about the townhouse was that the whole thing hadn’t been updated since they were kids. No nice TVs or anything from the modern era. There were fans offered, but no AC unit in place. Richie was suffering from the heat and opened the far window in hopes of casting a bit of fresh air into the place.
He sat on the couch with his computer, trying to come up with some new material for the standup special he had been working on. He was funny and knew he could be funny outside of the podcast world. All he needed was the material to show it off.
Well, Penny was a precocious little pup and always liked to inspect things. She hopped up onto the window sill and began yapping at the birds on the outside. She had done the same thing yesterday, except the difference was there were several inches of glass keeping her at bay. Now there was no barrier between them, so nothing stopped the poor thing from leaping out the window, charging at the birds.
Unlike the birds however, she didn’t have wings to keep her from falling the several stories down onto the pavement below. It was only the sound of her whimpering that caught Richie’s ear. It didn’t take much for the man to realize what happened and by the time he got down to the street belong, Penny was suffering more than any animal should.
Richie was distraught. Despite never having been known to be an animal person, Penny was as close to as a child that Eddie and he were going to have for a while. She was literally their baby. They had taken her at the moment she was able to get off drinking from her mother. They bought her toys and little outfits. Eddie talked about buying a carriage so he could push her around while jogging because her little legs were just too short for the three-mile trip he’d take around the city.
She even had her own corner in their bedroom and a dog house in the living room of their place, but at the end of the day, she always ended up sleeping on their bed.
Eddie even put a little staircase at the foot of the bed so she could hop on up without issue.
And now she was dead on the ground, having fallen from their fucking room because Richie couldn’t just put up with the heat.
He felt awful. Disgusting and terrible. Eddie would hate him for this, that much was obvious. He’d call him every bad name in the book because he just had to open up the window. Even if it was a mistake, an innocent one, that didn’t stop Richie from feeling like garbage.
He called Mike because he had no other idea of what to do. He didn’t know if there were any local vets or anything like that. There was no way they’d be burying her here. The last thing Richie wanted was to leave their precious little Penny behind.
Richie thought about cremating her and bringing her back up to New York. They could scatter her ashes along the water or keep her in an urn in their apartment. Eddie would probably want to leave a little memorial at her favorite park. They didn’t have a backyard or anything like that, so they took her to the dog park two to three times a week.
When Mike came, they sat together, with Penny tucked away inside one of the meatpacking boxes.
He wanted to wait for Eddie. He had to wait for Eddie because if they guy came home and Richie told him that he was gone and Eddie didn’t even get to say goodbye, then that would just make it so much worse.
They sat together in the alleyway behind the townhouse, smoking as Richie thought about his fate and how angry Eddie would be.
“She used to curl up on Eddie’s lap whenever he was trying to work.” He mentioned to Mike with a loving smile. “All she ever wanted to do was cuddle us and we let her because we were mushes. Now she’s gone.”
Richie rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, ignoring the fear of tears coming on. He felt sick to his stomach and looked over to the box just a few feet away from him.
“My dog died when I was a kid,” Mike admitted quietly. “It was before we met. Henry Bowers gave him meat that was laced with insect poison. Guess he thought the old mutt was an eyesore.”
Richie shivered at the thought of Bowers and all the old memories came flooding back to him. He had been a thorn in Richie’s side even before he realized he was gay though the latter didn’t help matters much. He was a racist, homophobic shit who probably went nowhere in life. Or worse, actually made something of himself.
Either way, the less they spoke about Bowers the better.
“My grandfather told me about a place high up on the hills near the old Native American tribute. Apparently, the place still has some magic hidden up there or something. Anyway, he carried the old boy there and the next day, he was back.”
“Back? Like . . . back from the dead?”
“I can’t explain it, but he was back. Different, but back.”
“Different how?”
“Mean,” Mike confessed, putting out the butt of his cigarette on the nearby wall. “He was pretty vicious. Broke into the barn and killed a couple of sheep. My grandfather ended up putting him down because he was becoming such a problem.”
“Penny couldn’t kill a thing. Barely weights five pounds.” Richie mentioned, looking from Mike to the box. He didn’t believe in magic or anything of the sorts, but he was a desperate man. “Where was this place?”
Turned out to be twenty minutes away by car, out towards where Mike lived and even further than that. The sky was turning dark by the time they got there and passing through the woods didn’t make it any easier.
“I want you to know the only reason I brought you here is that you’re my friend,” Mike told him calmly as they made their way down the path. There was a small area with handmade gravestones and a sign reading “Pet Sematary” hanging above. The incorrect spelling would drive Eddie crazy and Richie found himself smiling just thinking of it.
“So what, I just . . . pick a place?”
“Not here,” Mike said and carried down past the bushels of woods and up the hill town until they came upon a bleak circle with Native American carvings all along the ground.
“Have you been here before?” Richie asked carefully.
“Once. My grandfather and I were looting the area for anything we thought we could sell.” Mike admitted.
“You stole from Native Americans? Don’t they have enough to deal with?” Richie inquired.
With a slight glare, he continued. “He showed me this place and told me a few things about it. He didn’t want me to be curious and find it on my own. Mike paused, turning to hand Richie the shovel as he took the box that contained Penny. “You bury your own.” He told him. “That’s the rule.”
With one last sigh, Richie got to digging. He didn’t think any of this would work, but he was desperate to find out. If it all turned out to be some sick joke on Mike’s end, then at least they could call the trip short. Richie would dig up Penny and they’d go to the next town over to cremate her. They’d handle her ashes properly and Richie would take whatever punishment Eddie had planned for him.
When he was finished, he found himself more tired than expected. Like the place took away whatever energy he had to offer it. He got back to the townhouse and fell into the bed, falling asleep before even realizing it.
When he woke the following morning, it was to the sound of Eddie yelling at him. He jolted up, not knowing what day it was or why he was being hassled. He pushed himself up and out of bed, realizing only now he still had his muddy shoes on.
He stepped out of the bedroom and found Eddie on the floor, kneeling down beside a very dirty Penny. Her normally golden fur was matted with dirt and she was yipping around and around, much like the bubble ball of energy she was before.
“Seriously? What the hell did you do, take her running through the woods?” Eddie demanded, looking up to Richie. “And you! What, did you sleep in dirty clothes?”
“You didn’t come home last night,” Richie mumbled, rubbing his hand against his face.
“Mom had me watch one of those Turner Classic Movie Marathons. I fell asleep on the couch. I texted you but I never got a reply.” Eddie stood them, carrying Penny in his arms. “Come on, pretty girl. You need a bath. And Papa is gonna be the one to do it.”
Penny was shoved in his arms before he could even properly respond. Shuffling off to the bathroom, he listened to Eddie go on and on about his day with his mother while he got the tub set up for Penny.
He watched the dog curiously, trying to piece together what the hell happened. For a split second, Richie thought that the entire events of last night had been a horrible dream. Maybe he had just taken Penny out somewhere and they both got dirty. This town always gave him headaches, a little memory loss was no surprise to him.
“Rich, why is the window open?” Eddie asked as he popped his head into the bathroom. “In the living room. It’s wide open, you didn’t leave it open all night, did you? What if a bird got in? I swear I leave you alone for a fucking day.”
Richie stared with wide eyes at the dog that was digging into the bathroom rug. If last night wasn’t a dream, then that would mean Penny came back from the dead. How the fuck did she get back to the apartment? How did she get into the apartment? Nothing made sense to Richie, but he tried to ignore it all as he lifted her up and put her into the tub.
Normally, Penny was a lover of bath time. At their own apartment, they had plenty of room in their double-sized tub so it wouldn’t be a surprise for her to whine and whimper until Eddie lifted her up and they all bathed together on nights when they just needed some relaxation.
She would sit and allow Eddie to wash her and blow bubbled with her nose. Richie had countless pictures of her on his phone where she had colorful shower caps on to keep her ears or rubber duckies to keep her entertained.
Now, the former majestic and comforting dog was growling and yipping at Richie, going so far as to bite his arm when he tried to wash her. Richie couldn’t remember a single time that Penny had a bit at him, had snapped at all, but he chose not to question it.
She was back and they’d live with the attitude adjustment for now. He made a mental note to message Mike and give him a heads up about the place, but for now, he had a zombie dog to wash.
After the bath, Richie let Penny go and she moved around the apartment, going into the corner sit alone. Richie also took a shower, washing away all the dirt under his hair and somehow in his hair. He changed into clean clothes and found the dirty sheets had already been stripped and changed by Eddie, who was back in the kitchen, typing away on his computer as he drank his coffee.
“I thought we agreed on no work?” He asked casually, going to plop down onto the couch.
“Not work. Social stuff. Updating statues and all that.” Eddie moved forward, going to sit beside him on the couch. He held up his laptop, showing a picture from facebook. It was from Beverly and Ben with their baby on the beach. An adorable scene with Beverly completely slathered in sunscreen because of her pale complexion and Ben wearing the ugliest fucking hat he has ever seen. “Aren’t they adorable?”
Richie had to smile. He wasn’t wrong. They were very, very cute because how could they not be? They had been together since the end of high school. Lots of back and forth before Beverly finally grew a brain and realized the one she wanted and needed was Ben. They were a gorgeous family and Richie was envious of her happiness.
“That could be us someday,” Eddie ventured with a smile.
“Babe, you wear like . . . three times more sunblock than Beverly and if you think I’m wearing a hat that horrendous, you’re mistaken.”
“Not that, dumbass. The baby!” Right. The child.
Eddie had talked about it before. The whole adoption thing. Richie wasn’t opposed to it. Eddie had originally suggested fostering but Richie shut that down hardcore because he knew better. He knew Eddie would never be able to let the kid go so at least if they adopted right off the bat, they wouldn’t have to deal with anybody coming and trying to take the kid away from them.
“Eds, we’ve tried to remember? We just can’t seem to get you pregnant,” Richie teased, the tip of his nose nuzzling Eddie’s cheek.
Eddie sighed, closing the computer and placing it onto the coffee table beside Richie’s. They had talked about a lot of things. Adoption. Marriage. Growing old together. His own parents lived happily together raising two kids before retiring to Flordia. They weren’t perfect, but they didn’t have to be. Richie just hoped to be half the kind of partner his father had been, even if he wanted to be a better father.
“Your mom's not gonna cry and beg you to spend the night again, will she?” Richie asked curiously.
“Probably, but I won’t go. I told her I’d see her later this week but I want to use this time wisely and actually enjoy my vacation. Not just run around and do errands for her.”
“What a good son you are, Eddie Bear,” Richie said, kissing his cheeks wetly. Eddie groaned and pushed him away, causing Richie to laugh out. “Seriously, though. Do you have any plans? Did you sign us up for anything? No one to have dinner with?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, then what do you say to a good old fashioned date, huh? I was thinking: movies, dinner, and a walk along rickety Kissing Bridge?”
It was what they did when they were teenagers. Hang back at the top of the theater, grabbed pizza at the local parlor, and spit loogies off the bridge to the river below. Of course, as they got older and became an item, things became more romantic. They held hands during the movies and separated from the others for dinner. The only spit they shared at the bridge were kisses shared in secret. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough for them.
“I think you got yourself a date, Tozier.” Eddie decided, turning his head to kiss Richie.
It almost deepened then and while Richie would have been more than happy to let Eddie have his way with him right on the couch, they both turned away to see Penny pissing on the TV stand.
“Penny! What the hell?” Normally when the pup had to go she would let out a whimper and circle at the door. She was well trained; they had her certificate at doggy school and everything, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Eddie pushed up off the couch to clean up and Richie watched as the dog walked on, obviously not giving a single fuck.
They changed and left the apartment. Richie worried about what Penny would do when they were gone, what trouble she would get into. She wasn’t a messy dog; she had been a wonderful puppy and didn’t even chew on a single shoe, but now that she was . . . different, he worried about what would come of it.
Richie couldn’t think about that right now. He wanted to focus on something better and that was going out on a date with his boyfriend. They chose whatever the theater was playing when they arrived. Didn’t bother to check online, mostly cause Eddie wasn’t even sure the Aladdin even had a website. They chose The Monkey’s Paw, some old black and white film that was playing; bought their large popcorn and sodas and went up to the top ledge as they did as kids.
Richie kicked his feet up, waiting for Eddie to do the same so they could intertwine their ankles. They shared the popcorn and a few kisses as the film played on. It wasn’t a horrible movie; definitely worth the time to see it through Richie found he much preferred to watch Eddie than to watch whatever was happening on screen.
When it was over, they tossed out their containers and left the theatre. Eddie was talking a mile a minute about the movie they just watched, all the while Richie just smiled and nodded along. They went to the nearby diner for dinner and Richie watched as Eddie searched and searched before finally deciding to go with a plain burger. He asked what kind of grease they used, but gave up trying afterward because it was fucking Derry Maine, they couldn’t expect anything to be healthy around here, even with the growing vegan trend.
They shared fries and onion rings, talking about all the fun they used to have when they were kids, trying to split the bill with their allowances; counting nickels and dimes just to make it. Now they were both making money and paying for the bill was with a quick swipe of the credit card.
It was a calm night, sitting and chatting with each other as Richie continued to flood the table jukebox, playing all the songs they grew up with. He ended on “Together Forever” by Rick Astley because it was loud and dramatic, the exact opposite of Eddie. Richie sang it to him lovingly, not caring if anybody watched. The look he got from Eddie was more than enough. A glance that says: you’re a total idiot but you’re my total idiot.
What more could he ever want?
When they finished, Richie persuaded Eddie to take a walk with him. It was late, but not too late. The moon was high in the sky, just after sundown. The heat settled and the breeze was beginning to pick up around them.
They walked down the lane together, right up to Kissing Bridge. Eddie read the names aloud, trying to think if he knew any of the people. They stopped when they came upon the all too familiar carving. Richie had done it back when they were just kids. Barely fourteen at the time and completely in love with his best friend. The carving was faded by now, but the sentiment meant the same.
R + E
Richie plus Eddie.
“Forever and ever, babe,” Richie mentioned, going to lean against the bridge. He watched Eddie, catching the moonlight in his eyes and in his hair. He was gorgeous and always would be. “You know . . . I had been thinking about this for a while.”
“You: thinking? Oh, that can’t be good.” Eddie laughed softly.
“It’s kind of obvious that you’re it for me, Eduardo. And unless you can find another ugly mother fucking with a gangly body, I think I might be it for you too.”
“Depends on if the circus is coming to town,” Eddie mentioned, a loving smile coming across his face.
“Eds. I’m sure there are thousands of ways I could do this and maybe waiting until we get back to New York is the better choice, but call me a sentimental fuck, but I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather ask you this.”
He had both the ring a month ago, knowing eventually they’d have the time together and he’d be able to ask. Richie couldn’t think of a better place than their hometown. Not because of the idealistic ways around it, but rather because what would be a better fuck you to this horrible town than being extremely gay smack dab in the middle of it?
Richie got down onto one knee, holding out the ring box he had fished from his jacket pocket. It was white gold with an overlay of diamonds. Simple and elegant, just like Eddie himself.
“Eddie Spaghetti,”
Eddie laughed, his cheeks turning scarlet in the moonlight. “Christ Rich,”
“Would you do the honor of marrying me?”
“Do you really think I’d say no, asshole? Yes! One hundred times yes,”
Richie’s smile was as bright as the fucking moon. He slipped the ring on, which was the perfect size because he knew exactly what size finger Eddie had. He knew more about Eddie than he knew about himself sometimes.
When all was said and done he stood, towering over the other male, though he bent forward to kiss him, not caring at his glasses were pushed up against his nose. They’d deal with it later.
Lost in their kiss, neither noticed the car stopping in the middle of the bridge or the driver getting out of it. When they broke away, Richie turned to see an all too familiar blue thunderbird idling on the bridge and coming over to them was the same mullet-wearing asshole that made his life a living hell all those years ago.
“Well, ain't this a pretty sight.” Henry Bowers muttered, looking over to his companions.
“Hello to you too, Bowers,” Eddie said, looking the group up and down slowly.
“Tozier and Kaspbrak. Haven’t seen your ugly faces around here in a while.” Henry mentioned. “Thought I got rid of your losers.”
“No, that was college. We went there while you stayed and jerked off into a bucket.” Richie replied back easily.
“Always knew you two were fucking each other. What? Marsh’s puss wasn’t good enough so you two turned into a couple of faggots?”
“There is so much wrong in everything you just said.” Eddie groaned, rubbing at his temple. The ring caught the moonlight and Henry’s attention.
“Well, I guess congratulations are in order,” Henry mentioned, approaching slowly. He placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder, that sadistic smile that always sent a shiver down Richie’s spine shined darkly. “Welcome home,” He said cheerfully before driving his fist into Richie’s stomach.
It wasn’t their first beating. They had taken blows by Bowers and his gang before and back in New York they were used to someone shouting something at them despite it being new age. They went back and forth, each putting up a fight because they weren’t going to let Bowers win this round.
It came to a close when he tried to take Eddie’s ring. The shorter male bought back, going so far as to land a punch right in Henry’s eye. That pissed him off enough to brandish the knife he always kept in the back pocket. He held onto Eddie’s hand tightly, threatening to cut off his finger and wear the ring around his neck as a souvenir.
At this point, it wasn’t worth it and Richie was shouting for Eddie to just give it up. The other assholes were holding him down, refusing to let him up to help Eddie.
Bowers licked the knife slowly, bringing the tip of it to Eddie’s face to teach him. In a swift move, Eddie jerked forward, kneeing Henry in the dick. The pain was enough to send a surge of angry through him and Bower buried the knife in Eddie’s face, cutting deeply into his cheek.
Eddie cried out, both in shock and pain, while Bowers decided to let the knife stay there as he punched the rest of Eddie’s face until his knuckles were bloody.
Richie thought it would end there. He thought they would be left beaten and bloody, but alive in the middle the street.
They couldn’t get that lucky.
Using the last bit of strength he had, Eddie muttered one final thought. “You should cut that fucking mullet. It’s been like twenty years, man.”
With that, Bowers offered one more blow before standing to his feet. He shouted for the others to come over and help him. They left Richie on the other side of the road to watch as they dragged Eddie over, to the wall of the bridge. And in one smooth move, they lifted him up and tossed him over into the river below.
Richie was left screaming, spitting out blood onto the road as Bowers and his gang drove away. Using whatever strength he had left, Richie pushed himself up, scooping his glasses from the ground, and hurried around to where the opening of the bridge led to the river. He tripped twice and fell first into the edge of the water, pushing himself up onto wobbly legs as he went deeper into the water and over to where Eddie was floating.
“Eddie. Eddie! Wake up, babe. Baby, wake up.” Richie muttered, rolling Eddie over so his face was out of the water.
His eyes were open and his neck was slack. Richie could think of countless times he had gazed into those eyes as a child, as a teen, as a man. No matter the situation, Eddie always seemed to have a wonderful glimmer there.
That glimmer was gone now and replacing it was nothing more than a vacant stare that went nowhere.
His face was mutilated and despite lying in the water for over three minutes, there was no washing the blood away. It stained his skin in the worst way, leaving him wet and icky.
He was completely unresponsive and while it was plain to see that he wasn’t dealing with shock or just fell contentious, Richie continued to hold onto him and mutter his name, rocking him slowly until someone above spotted and alerted the authorities.
Richie was treated for his wounds at the hospital while Eddie was taken away by the coroner. It still hadn’t hit Richie yet that this happened. That Eddie was dead. When he spoke to the hospital officials, they said a full autopsy hasn’t been done but their best guess was a broken neck and drowning.
They cleaned him up and stitched up any wounds he had, leaving him looking more like Frankenstein than anything. He called Mike, not knowing what else to do in this situation. And Mike called Stanley and Bill because this wasn’t something Richie should have to deal with alone.
When Richie tried to report the crime, however, he found himself being rebuffed.
“Henry Bowers couldn’t have done this,” The officer on call explained to him. “He’s on the force. He might be a hothead like his old man, but he wouldn’t break the law. He is the law.”
“Do you think I am fucking lying about this?” Richie practically screamed.
“You already said his dad was a hothead. What makes you think Bowers wouldn’t do this?” Mike challenged the officer.
“Because he is an officer. Now, unless you want to give me a real report, I suggest you deal with your own trouble.”
The officer walked away and the only reason why he didn’t straight up maul the officer was because of Mike holding him back.
“I haven’t even seen him!” Richie shouted to Mike, beginning to pace the hospital, having not seen Eddie since they arrived at the hospital. “I don’t even fucking know where he is.”
He was breaking down. He knew he was breaking down and there was no way to stop it. Richie wanted to fall to the ground and cry, not caring who saw him. He had just proposed. They were going to get married. They were going to look into adoption, they would have a family. Everything was going so fucking well for them and now it felt like the world was falling apart around them.
Mike ended up sweet talking one of the nurses into letting Richie see Eddie. He was given a five-minute window, which seemed cruel for a man who watched his lover died.
He laid on the slab completely still, eyes still wide open as he looked out over nothing. They washed away the blood, though the bruises still remained. There was no point in stitching him up, leaving the wound open on his cheese.
There was no denying it anymore. He wasn’t just frozen in the moment or in a vegetative state. Eddie Kaspbrak was dead and there was no going back.
Richie could only apologize so many times but he’d go on and on for as long as it took. He was so fucking sorry. Sorry that he let Penny fall from the window. Sorry that he fought with his mother to the point where she didn’t want him at her house. Sorry that he bothered to propose in public in such a fucked uptown.
Richie was just so fucking sorry.
All their plans were gone. All their hopes were gone. Eddie was gone.
But he didn’t have to be.
In the darkest part of Richie’s mind, he knew there had to be a way it would work. It worked on a dog, so why not a man? Anything was possible, right? And if it didn’t work, then at least then he would know and he could have closure. If it didn’t work then he’d confess to everything and they’d bury Eddie for real. They’d give him a proper burial and his mom would have Richie even more but that was fine.
It was worth a shot.
Stealing a body from a hospital wasn’t easy and he didn’t really know what to do once he slipped through the back door. He carried Eddie, wrapped up in the sheet from the hospital, all the way to the area that Mike had first taken him too. Richie had never been very strong, but he found the strength to take Eddie all the way up there.
He walked down the path and up the hill. He went passed the dead animals and into the circle. He found a place right in the middle and started digging. He dug, and dug, and dug until there was nothing left but a gaping hole.
He pulled Eddie into it, holding him for just a moment longer.
“Come back to me,” He muttered, laying him down in the dirt. “You fucking come back to me, you understand?”
Pulling himself out of the hole, Richie pushed all the dirt back on until Eddie was completely covered. Lightening light up the sky and rain began to fall down, though he carried on until the hole was complete. He walked back down the trail in a trance, stopping only when he found Mike at the bottom.
“I couldn’t find you,” Mike said, his voice low and shaking. He looked over Richie, seeing the dirt on his clothes and on his hands. “I couldn’t find you and I knew. Richie . . . whatever you did-”
“It’s done,” Richie told him simply, pushing passed him to continue ongoing down the lane.
“Whatever you think you did, it won’t work. Whatever returns to you, it won’t be Eddie!” Mike warned. He reached back, grabbing Richie’s arm to stop him from walking. “My grandfather had a friend, Rich. His son died overseas and he was so desperate to have him back-”
“It’s done, Mike!” Richie shouted to him, pushing him off. “The law won’t do anything, what other choice did I have?!”
Nobody would listen to Richie, nobody cared about what he had to say. He was just another gay man. Useless and pathetic. Wanting all the attention. There was no way they would believe him if he tried to bring this to outside police or even to court. An off duty police officer vs a homosexual.
There would have been proof. They found the knife that was plunged into Eddie’s cheek; it had the initials of Bower's father along the body of it. And it wasn’t like Richie could kick the shit out of himself and Eddie and still have the strength to push him over the bridge.
All the proof was there, but they still wouldn’t listen. Richie, in his desperation and depression, saw no real solution to this problem.
“Using a fucking Native American burial ground should have never been a choice!” Mike insisted.
“You showed it to be in the first place.”
“For your dog! Not your boyfriend!”
Richie’s eyes glazed over, his head shaking as his glasses became fogged up from the rain. “Eddie will come back. Just like Penny did.”
“It won’t end well, Richie,” Mike warned, but the other man wasn’t listening.
He just kept walking down the lane, all the way back to the townhouse.
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((click here to read on ao3!))
As soon as Eddie steps back into Derry, Maine for the first time in years, he feels like a clock starts ticking. It's not the first time he's felt he has a finite timeline, but it is the first time it's felt more like an hourglass running quickly out of sand. He doesn't really know what's going on at all, but he can't shake the feeling he's going to die here, and soon.
Everything looks exactly like it did when he left—not that he remembered it before he got here. Now it seems crazy he didn't remember. The Barrens, the quarry, the library, the fucking pharmacy, the arcade. He grew up here. He belonged here, once. How the hell did he forget?
When the phone rang, Eddie didn't know why he felt compelled to answer. The area code said Maine, and he just...acted without thinking. It was unlike him, and he knows that, and Myra knows that, and this entire thing is just so bizarre but somehow so right at the same time. He booked his plane tickets immediately after dealing with his car crash situation, even with Myra chattering and nagging in his ear, and he never once doubted it was what he was supposed to do, despite the fact the name Mike Hanlon didn't ring any bells aside from a cacophony of alarm bells Eddie couldn't explain.
Still, here he is outside Jade of the Orient, and he's steeling himself to go inside. It feels like the pieces of a puzzle sliding together inside his head. Most people he's met as an adult don't understand how he's forgotten so much of his childhood, and somehow Eddie never really questioned it much, but now he's suddenly got a lot of questions.
“What the fuck am I even doing here?” he mutters to himself. Strangely enough, it feels like someone else is listening.
He grits his teeth and goes in, doing his best to shake his spike in anxieties, but it does about as well as it ever has. His hands are shaking as he goes to the hostess stand and asks about the Hanlon party, and if she notices, she doesn't say anything, only smiles and leads him to the back, and to make himself feel more in control of the situation, he starts listing his allergies to her at breakneck speed.
Eddie doesn't know what he was expecting to find, but childhood friends he didn't remember never once crossed his mind. Mike and Bill, so different and so recognizable at the same time, and Eddie remembers being right there with them, a member of the group.
“Holy shit,” is all he can say.
When the stupid gong signals the official meeting of the Loser's Club, all of whom just remembered the other member's existed, Eddie finds himself looking into the leering face of Richie goddamn Tozier, and all of a sudden he's a kid again with a personal vendetta for bothering the fuck out of him.
It's insane, how easily he can fall back into the role.
Who the fuck has he been, up until now?
Memories return slowly, but not everything, and not everyone. Stan's chair remains empty, and Eddie can't help glancing at it periodically, even as everyone chatters around him, throwing insults and swapping anecdotes. And Eddie participates, because how could he not? He remembers these things. He remembers them. He remembers Stan.
And Stan is missing. Something feels wrong about it in the same way that being back in Derry at all feels wrong, and all if it makes Eddie's hair stand on end, even as he's tipsy and full and telling a twinkling eyed Richie to go fuck himself.
At some point after he's laughed more than he has in years, Eddie is wiping tears of mirth from under his eyes and he once again glances at Stan's empty chair, only this time it's occupied. Stan is there, looking at him calmly, and Eddie doesn't know how, but he immediately knows Stan is dead. Eddie's mouth drops open and he looks around to see if anyone else notices, but they're all talking amongst themselves. Stan gives him a little wave.
“Been a while, huh?” Stan asks, and he smiles in that way he used to where his eyes crinkle in the corners that lets Eddie know he means it, and then suddenly Eddie is aware he's crying.
“Eddie? Honey?” Beverly says, noticing. A hush falls over the table as they all look over at him.
“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.
“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.
“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.
“Stan...” Eddie moves forward and tries to touch him, but his hand goes right through. He doesn't know why that sends more tears pouring down his face. “Fuck, Stan, why'd you— Why can I see—?”
“Easy, Eddie. It's okay.”
“Fuck you, it's not okay! You're fucking dead! Why the fuck are you dead?!”
Stan sighs and he looks up at the ceiling, tongue in cheek. “I guess I was the weakest.”
“What kind of cryptic ass bullshit is that supposed to be? Weak? Like, in the bones or some shit? What?”
Stan sighs again and closes his eyes. “Why couldn't it have been Bill that sees me? Talking to you is exhausting when you're freaking out.”
“I'm seeing the fucking ghost of my dead friend in a Chinese restaurant, Stanley! How did you think this conversation would go?!” Eddie screeches.
“It could definitely be worse. Richie would be the worst to see me. He listens about as well as a toddler.” Stan looks back at Eddie and shrugs a little. “You don't remember why Mike called us all here, do you?”
“I don't know, a reunion?” Eddie needs a tissue, but he also doesn't want to touch anything in the bathroom. It looks clean enough, but he doesn't buy it.
“Pennywise,” Stan says softly, and Eddie's brow furrows because he doesn't know what the hell that means.
But then he does.
What are you looking for, Eddie?
“Shit!”
Forgetting his avoidance of touching the bathroom, Eddie suddenly finds himself bent over the sink, wheezing as memories flood back to him. Stan watches him sympathetically, unable to do anything.
“The fucking clown...” Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out his inhaler.
“We all made a promise,” Stan says as Eddie works at catching his breath. They both look down at their hands. “I guess I still have to honor it even like this.”
Eddie isn't hearing him much anymore as he panics. The bad feeling he's had since coming here finally makes sense, and it takes a moment for him to understand why he's so pissed all of a sudden.
He storms out of the bathroom and beelines for the room their party is in, hands clenched into fists.
“Eddie—“ Mike stands, hands immediately flying up as if he can tell by Eddie's face that he's remembered. “Let me explain.”
“You bastard. You fucking asshole, you—“
“What is it? What's wrong?” Bill asks, standing as well. He gets between Eddie and Mike as Eddie moves forward. Mike is taller and stronger, but Eddie is fairly sure he can get a few punches in.
“Guys, come on,” Ben says, moving to pull Eddie backwards. He looks at Beverly and Richie, who are still seated. Beverly just looks confused, and Richie is giving Mike a hard stare as if to say “I don't know why Eddie is so pissed off at Mike, but I guess I am too, now.”
“The fucking clown! The clown!” Eddie yanks out of Ben's hold and shoves his finger into Mike's chest. “Why the fuck didn't you lead with that when you called me?!”
“The clown...” Bill says softly, and Mike looks so guilty that Eddie considers launching at him.
“Pennywise,” Beverly whispers, and then Richie is on his feet, also moving towards Mike, his jaw set.
“Guys, please, let me explain, okay,” Mike says. “We made a promise. Don't you wonder why you've forgotten mostly everything about where you grew up? Why you can't remember the things most people can?”
“I just figured it fucking sucked and I blocked it out,” Richie says. He brushes against Eddie as they stand side by side. “And I was right!”
“W-when were y-you gonna...” Bill stutters, and he blinks in alarm. Eddie looks at him, some of his anger fading as he recalls Bill was speaking clearly before they all started remembering It. “Gonna tell us.” Bill finishes, speaking slowly.
“When we were all here!” Mike says. “Stan's not here yet!”
“Stan's dead.” Eddie feels all their eyes on him, but he stares determinedly up at Mike.
“What?” Mike asks.
“He's dead, Mike! He's dead, he's not coming!” The tears resume, but Eddie fights through them. He shoves Mike, but it doesn't do much. Mike barely budges. “He remembered as soon as you fucking called him!”
“Oh god,” Beverly says, and they all turn around to see she's crying as well. “The bath.”
“How do you know? How can you know that? He...he answered the phone. It was him! How is he dead?” Mike says wildly. Eddie locks eyes with Stan, who is standing in the entrance of the room looking sullen.
“He killed himself,” Eddie says, and he scrubs at his face as all the fire leaves him. Ben goes to sit with Beverly, his hand on her back. Bill is looking at Mike helplessly, and Richie is still looking at Eddie.
“Is that what you saw?” Mike asks Eddie softly, and Eddie debates telling them he can see Stan now, but before he can, a crunching noise captures their attention. It came from the bowl of fortune cookies.
***
In the aftermath of being attacked by It in the middle of the fucking restaurant, Eddie decides fuck it. He's getting out. Leaving Derry did the trick once, right? Why wouldn't it work again? While Beverly calls Stan's wife to get the truth, Eddie and Richie lash into Mike, and Richie agrees leaving is the best option as Beverly gets confirmation that Stan is dead. Stan is dead. Why the fuck can Eddie still see him?
Eddie clamors into his car, breathing heavily as his hands grip the steering wheel. He doesn't look over, doesn't need to, to see Stan staring at him obviously. Mike and Bill are in the middle of the road talking animatedly, and Richie has already started his car. He revs his engine at Eddie, and Eddie goes through the motions, starts his own car, and then he's following Richie back to the townhouse, refusing to look over at Stan.
“Eddie,” Stan says, and Eddie loses it.
“How the fuck do I know you're not him? Huh? How do I know you aren't Pennywise?” His knuckles go white from where he's gripping the wheel. His hands hurt. “This is exactly the kind of thing he does. Use someone's pain against them”
“I can't prove anything,” Stan says. “Do I feel like I'm Pennywise?”
“No,” Eddie says, and his voice breaks. “That's what hurts so fucking badly.”
Streetlights blur as Eddie looks straight ahead, and he can't tell if it's because he's driving fast, or because his eyes are filled with tears. Either way, Stan reaches over, his hand on Eddie's shoulder, and fuck it, Eddie can feel it. He can feel Stan's touch. It's not even cold or wrong or otherworldly. It's him.
“I'm me, Eds. And before you can say you hate that nickname, I already know that. But it's catchy.” Stan smiles, and Eddie sobs.
“Why? Why? Why the fuck would you kill yourself? Stan, you—we needed you.”
Stan shifts in the passenger seat. “Yeah. I know. I know you did. It was just—it was so much. I was scared. I was terrified. Mike called and I just, I knew. I remembered. It's so weird to me that you guys are all taking so long to get everything back. I heard Mike and I knew it all immediately.”
“Why is that?” Eddie asks, not to Stan specifically. “I'm still getting random shit.”
“I think it has to do with the order,” Stan says.
“Order?”
“When we die. I was first. I knew that as soon as Mike called me. I was the first to go.”
Eddie's breath catches. Stan was always so soft. So logical. Stan knew better than them all, only went along with things to appease the rest of them. He was always the fucking best. And fighting Pennywise, disrupting whatever rhythm Pennywise had going—was this the punishment? Dying one by one for daring to stand up to him?
“Who was next?” Eddie finds himself asking. Stan is looking at him intently.
“Do you want to know for real?” Stan asks.
“No,” Eddie says, watching Richie park his car. Eddie wasn't even paying attention to the fact they made it to the townhouse.
“They say those who are close to death are closer to the dead,” Stan says. “You can see more. Hear more.”
Eddie parks behind Richie, barely seeing as Richie exits his car and waits for Eddie, hands in his pockets.
“So I'm next,” Eddie says, his voice calm despite how he feels.
“I was the weakest,” Stan reiterates, and Eddie finally looks at him.
“What does that mean? The weakest? Of what? Will? Strength? What, exactly?”
“It means I knew too much and couldn't handle it. And then after me, there was...”
Knowing too much. Eddie was always cautious. Sure, most of his health facts weren't correct. He knows that now, looking back. But Stan was right there with him. Stan, who loved nature, thought every plant was poison ivy, and was scared to hurt anyone's feelings. Eddie, meanwhile, was paranoid, terrified, and thought he had to fight tooth and nail to argue a point no one else was tying to prove.
Stan was nicer than him. Better than him.
Is that why Stan was dead first?
“Do you know how it happens?” Eddie finds himself asking. Richie is looking at him now, outside the car. Richie makes a vague what are you doing gesture. Eddie shrugs.
“Yes,” Stan says.
“Can you tell me?” Eddie asks, not really wanting to know.
“No. Not outright.”
“Okay,” Eddie says. “Shut up for a while. They're all gonna think I'm crazy or that you're really Pennywise.” He exits the car.
“Who were you talking to?” Richie asks.
“No one,” Eddie says. “I had my wife on speakerphone.” It's a lie, but a believable one. Richie makes a sour face.
“Oh yeah? All eight-hundred pounds of her?”
Eddie bristles. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Guys,” Stan says softly, sighing. Richie, unaware of Stan, huffs.
“I'm just saying. If old Mrs. K was four-hundred pounds, shouldn't the new one be twice as much?”
“Fuck you,” Eddie says, and Richie throws his hands up, exasperated. Stan, to the side, covers his face in his hands.
“Fuck me? Fuck me? Do you even know all that we've been through? Do you remember everything yet? My jokes are the least of your concerns—“
“They're still a pain in the ass, okay, and no wonder you don't write your own shit since all you have in your repertoire is your mom jokes—“
“What the fuck is a repertoire?” Richie swipes at him, and Eddie dodges, not wanting to get caught in a headlock. Stan is rubbing his temples.
“You illiterate fuck,” Eddie hisses, and then he's marching into the townhouse, stomping a bit despite himself. Somehow being around Richie makes him revert to a pissed off kid. He never fights Myra like this. Usually he's quiet and lets her do or say whatever because it'll be over faster. Richie Tozier makes him feel downright feral.
“Eddie,” Stan says tiredly.
“Shut up, too,” Eddie says.
“I didn't say anything!” Richie says from behind him.
Eddie climbs the stairs and starts gathering his shit, not wanting to stay a second longer than he has to. He hears Ben and Beverly chatting downstairs and Richie is probably getting his own things together judging by the thumps coming from next door. Stan sits on Eddie's bed, watching him. Eddie pointedly ignores him.
“You can't leave,” Stan says at last.
“I'm not staying. I can't do this again. If I'm next to die, I should just not even be here.”
“It doesn't work that way. I wasn't here either and I'm still dead.”
“You killed yourself,” Eddie argues. It still hurts to think, let alone say. He can't be mad at Stan for it, and he's not, not really. He just wishes it hadn't happened.
“It doesn't matter how it happens. You'll die either way. The only way to stop it from happening is to—“
“I can't do this!” Eddie shouts, and it's suddenly very quiet. He doesn't hear Richie thrashing around next door, or hear the murmuring of Beverly and Ben. Stan is watching him still.
“You don't have a choice.”
Eddie curses and kicks his luggage. There's a knock at his door.
“Eds? You okay in there?” Richie asks. Eddie laughs, borderline maniacally.
“I'm great. I'm fucking fantastic.” He kicks his luggage again, and it's so dense it hurts his toes, but that's the least of his concerns. He keeps kicking.
“Okay, fuck, I'm coming in,” Richie says, and then he's picking Eddie up and pulling him away from his kicking fit. Eddie tries to wrench away from him, but Richie is stupidly strong.
“Get off me, you—“
“Goddamn, you're scrappy,” Richie says, and it's absurd he sounds so jovial about it. Eddie tries to claw at him and it doesn't work, so soon enough he's resigning himself to being manhandled by a large man baby in a hideous shirt. “You're gonna break your toes, dude. You're an angry, tiny thing.”
Eddie glares at him from over his shoulder. “I'm going to slit your throat.”
“Okay, yeah, you need a few more minutes in the arms of casa de Tozier.”
“Are you guys okay? We heard screaming,” Ben says, appearing at the door. Beverly is by his side, smiling at the scene of Eddie being restrained and cradled by Richie, who doesn't seem fazed in the slightest.
“Eds is having a tantrum.”
“It's good to know after all this time, you guys haven't changed,” Beverly says.
“Fuck you, I changed,” Eddie says.
“You didn't get any taller,” Richie says, and Eddie starts trying to break away from him again just to get one good punch in his smug fucking face. Richie just smiles at him and then looks to Beverly and Ben. “You guys look grim.”
“We were having a, uh. A pretty serious conversation,” Ben murmurs. He glances at Beverly. “She knew about Stan. She knew before we called. She even said the bath.”
“So did Eddie,” Beverly says, looking curiously at Eddie, who stops fighting Richie because this seems like a serious matter.
“Yeah, what's up with that, anyway? How'd you guys know?” Richie asks. He finally lets Eddie go, and Eddie slaps his arm for good measure before straightening up his clothes.
“I saw it. In the...the deadlights.” Beverly shudders as she says it. She closes her eyes. “I saw us all die.”
“Fucking yikes,” Richie says.
“But Eddie... You didn't see the deadlights. Did you?” Ben asks.
“No.” Eddie looks at Stan, who is still on the bed. “It's hard to explain, I guess. I just knew.”
“We were talking...” Ben says, glancing between them all nervously. Beverly is still looking intently at Eddie. “We were talking about what it might mean. That maybe there's a...a reason we have to stay.”
“Fuck that,” Richie says.
“What else do you know, Eddie?” Beverly asks.
“Just that we're all gonna die one by one if we don't kill It. Nothing major.” Eddie shrugs as Ben pales and Richie curses again.
“So Stan was the weakest,” Richie says.
“Fuck you too, Richie,” Stan huffs, and Eddie laughs. They all look back at Eddie as if worried for his sanity.
“So then, is there an order?” Richie asks. “Is this something we should know?”
Beverly glances at Eddie, who suddenly feels the need to leave the room immediately. “I don't know about an order,” she lies.
Eddie very quickly exits the room and goes down the stairs two at a time to the bar, where he finds the fanciest looking bottle he can and opens it. He's yet to see an employee here, but he did talk to someone on the phone for the room, so he's assuming someone is here. They can add it to his tab or something.
“Eddie,” Richie says as he joins him. “You okay—“ He enters the room in time to see Eddie toss back a shot of Blanton's. Richie puts his hands in his pockets and watches Eddie carefully. “Damn. Well, I can't let you drink alone, can I?”
Eddie pours him a shot, and they stand in quiet solidarity for a moment.
“This is good shit,” Richie says. “Usually I just drink cheap since I like a lot of it. Quantity over quality, right?”
“I usually drink gin and prune juice,” Eddie says, and Richie snorts. “I fucking hate gin.” Eddie sets his glass down with more force than he should, and then he's refilling it, his hands shaking. “I hate so much of my goddamn life.”
“Eds—“
“And I knew it before, you know? I knew I wasn't happy. But I didn't know why. I forgot just like everyone else did, and I never knew I had it better. I never knew I was brave before. I just let everyone boss me around like mom did because it was all I knew how to do.” He throws back another shot, grimacing. “I fought a fucking demon clown and ran away from my mom to do it. I threw out my medication and then I just... God, I fucking went back to get it. Like as soon as fighting It was over, everything was already starting to fade.”
“Hey, man, me too. Like I knew there was a hole or something but I didn't know...what it was. I didn't even know when Mike called. I just saw you and then—“ Richie pauses, his eyes widening. “I saw you all, I mean.” He frowns as Eddie pours another glass. “Dude, take it easy.”
“Fuck you,” Eddie says.
“You're shaking.” Richie takes the glass from him and then takes his hands, which is bizarre as hell, but also it's not. Richie has always been touchy. “Come on, talk to me here.”
“I think I'm having a mental breakdown,” Eddie says as he watches Stan come down the stairs. Richie looks over too, seeing nothing.
“Is he finally making a move?” Stan asks, and Eddie flushes because they are holding hands.
“I'd ask if it was because of the psycho horror clown thing, but that'd be a weird question. I'm with you, man. If you wanna sit here and get trashed, I'm down. Just let me know,” Richie says, and he looks so uncharacteristically serious that Eddie doesn't know what to do.
“I don't know what I want,” Eddie admits. “I don't ever know. That's why I let everyone decide for me.”
“That's bullshit,” Richie says easily. “You always know everything, at least to hear you tell it.”
Eddie flushes. No one ever believed in him like Richie Tozier. It's something he just now remembered.
“I think I want to get trashed. But it's a bad idea, since I don't know what we're doing tomorrow, and I get really bad hangovers.” Eddie looks at his empty glass and immediately regrets the shots he took. He's got enough of a buzz to want to tell Richie everything, but he also knows it'd be a bad idea.
“Then let's get rid of this,” Richie says, taking Eddie's glass away. Eddie considers reaching for it again, but decides Richie is right.
“Since when are you so sensible?” Eddie mutters, and Richie beams at him.
“I've always been sensible, Eddie-Baby. You just never listened to me before.”
Eddie grimaces, and hates how much he likes the nickname. He likes all of Richie's stupid nicknames and always has, but he'll never admit to it. He looks down to see Richie is still holding one of his hands. Eddie also hasn't let go. Maybe it's the alcohol, or all the trauma, but he doesn't want to let go.
“I'm not going to start listening to you now. It'll break this thing we have going,” Eddie says with a shrug. He tightens his hold on Richie's hand.
“You're already drunk,” Richie says with a smile. He looks thrilled about it.
“I am not.”
“It's because you're so tiny.”
“I will literally snap you like a twig and everyone else would thank me for it.”
“Oh my god,” Stan says from his corner. “Just fucking make out already.”
Eddie sighs and sits in a bar stool, looking from Stan to Richie, who immediately hops up to a stool beside him. It's strange how easily they can fall into their old routines despite the many years between their last interaction. Eddie remembers always fighting with Richie, who liked to egg him on in every possible way, but when things started to go sour, or one of them was actually upset, they always gravitated together and communicated without actually talking. They've always been RichieandEddie to their group, even when they were clawing at each other with no real intent to draw blood.
“I feel bad for yelling at Mike,” Eddie admits. He taps at the bar nervously.
“Nah, dude, he had that coming. He should have said something,” Richie says breezily.
“But what could he have said? How do you word something like that over the phone? I think he—he wanted to wait until we were all back together. We were always stronger that way and It hated us being together.” Eddie sighs and glances at Richie. “We left and Mike didn't. Mike never got out of this hellhole.”
“I don't know which of the situations is better or worse, Eds,” Richie says, and when Eddie looks at him curiously, he shrugs. “Was it better to forget or to remember? Seems like none of us ended up happy.”
“You're not happy, Rich?”
Richie barks out a laugh and shakes his head, shifting nervously in that way he always did when the focus was on him and he wasn't trying to be funny.
“I think I've had my highs, yeah. I mean, I made it. I've got dates—tour dates—in Reno. I've got a lot of fans and talks for a Netflix special, but, ah. It's not my own shit, so it's basically being a figurehead for someone else's jokes. It's like I'm touching everything with gloves on. Feeling it and not feeling it at the same time.” Richie doesn't look at Eddie while he talks. He looks down, and he tries to smile, but it's easy to see through.
“Yeah, the glove thing. Going through the motions. I think we all did that,” Eddie says.
“I guess we all something was missing. And Mike was the only one who knew what it was,” Richie says.
“I'll apologize to him. Not that my shoving did much. Pretty sure I broke my finger when I poked at his chest. The motherfucker got ripped.”
Richie laughs loudly. “Oh, god, right? And Ben...”
“Dude, yes! Ben!”
“Maybe that's the real price we paid for fucking with It. Like a, uh. That monkey thing. We get good stuff with bad things attached forever.”
“The Monkey's Paw?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah! We all got irresistibly hot but in return we live shitty lives.”
Eddie looks over at Stan, who is watching them with an amused glint to his eye.
“I wonder what Stan's wife was like,” Richie continues. “Bet he got all cute and shit as an adult. Wish I could talk to that fucker one more time. He pretty much always knew what to say.”
“Stan was happy,” Eddie says, and it hurts to say because he knows it was true. Stan was happy with his wife, and even with the missing pieces, he managed to thrive. Stan was the one of them who was most eager to forget. Stan never wanted to fight in the first place. And Eddie didn't either, but he also would have followed their group anywhere. Stan existed the most on his own outside of them, knew who he was and what he wanted. Eddie needed their club to thrive. For the others, it must've been the same.
“You think so?” Richie asks softly.
“Yeah, I do. I think he was smart enough to say 'fuck It and his stipulations' and be happy anyway. Like a big 'fuck you' to the clown.”
“Stan never was down with the clown,” Richie agrees. Eddie snorts with laughter. They sit in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. A throat clears behind them, and Eddie thinks it might just be Stan, but it's actually Beverly, who is smiling widely.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, and it's only then Eddie notices Richie's hand is still linked with his own.
“Hell yeah,” Richie says. “Want a shot? Eddie's buying. Being a risk gas-lighter is lucrative work.”
“Analyst!” Eddie snaps.
“Whatever man, sounds like you hype people up about scenarios that never happen and then take their money for it.”
“My job is to think about things other people don't think about for safety measures and—“
“So you've been doing this job since birth and are only just now raking in the bankroll?” He scrunches up his face and makes his voice go high and whiny. 'Guys, come on, it's gray water and it's filled with so much bacteria and all your skin's gonna fall off and I'll get grounded—'”
Somewhere in the flurry of limbs that is Eddie trying to launch at Richie, they let go of each other's hands, but Eddie feels the warmth for a little while after.
***
Mike and Bill return, and Bill is one-hundred percent on board for whatever Mike's plan is, which means the rest of them are too. Eddie knows well enough he'd follow Bill back to Hell if Bill asked him to, because Bill has always treated Eddie like a person, and when Bill puts his mind to something, the rest seems like an inevitability.
They trek behind Mike, all of them riled on manic energy and a desire to end It for good. Unbeknownst to the others, Stan is there too, walking beside Eddie, who trails behind so he can murmur to him without being overheard.
“What do you know about Mike's plan?” Eddie asks, and Stan smirks.
“It's amazing how much you really believe me. I thought as soon as you were the only one who could see me, I was fucked,” Stan says.
“Well, you haven't tried to kill me yet. Pennywise would've by now. And besides, I already said you don't feel like him. He was—is—really bad at imitations.”
They walk for a bit longer in silence before Stan answers.
“Being dead is weird,” he says, and Eddie doesn't know if it would be wrong to laugh at that, so he settles for saying nothing. “It's like time isn't linear to me anymore. I can be pretty much wherever, and I see other things happening, and then I have to straighten out what applies to the here and now. Here and now for you, not for me. Because I'm not here anymore so I don't have a now.”
“I...think I get that?” Eddie says.
“The ritual isn't going to work,” Stan says.
“I didn't think it would. Why does Bill think it will?”
“Because Bill needs for It to be dead. And he only knows half of what Mike knows.”
“So Mike's lying?” Eddie asks, getting pissed off at Mike all over again.
“Mike needs to believe it will work. It's all he has, really.”
“Jesus.” Eddie sighs and shuts up for a second when Richie turns to look at him curiously.
“I don't know why I'm still here. I keep trying to figure it out, and what I've guessed is that I need to stop you from being killed. I can't...change a lot about what's going to happen. If I do too much, I could mess everything up, so I can't tell you all I know. Maybe it'll make things much different, maybe not. But things aren't going to be fixed if we both die,” Stan says.
“Neither of us should die,” Eddie mutters, and Stan doesn't look at him, just keeps walking.
“One of us was going to. You don't get to have a perfect ending, right? I wish I could change everything, I do. I wish I could go back in time and stop Georgie from dying too, but it doesn't work that way. I can only interact with you. So you're the one I'm going to save.” Stan's eyes soften, and he looks affectionately at Eddie. “I love you, Eds. You don't deserve to die, and I'm going to fix it.”
All over again, Eddie is crying. The people he loves most in the world are walking with him, and one of them is dead. It isn't fair.
“I'm sorry, Stan,” Eddie says softly, wiping at his eyes. “I don't mean to keep being a baby, it's just a lot. It's a lot.”
“I know,” Stan says.
“The others, what happens to them? When I die?”
“Some of them work it out,” Stan says. “They don't get over you. Or me. But I think you're the straw that breaks the camel's back. Richie, um. He's especially not okay.”
Eddie looks at Richie's back as they walk, his hands clenching into fists.
“He gets about two more years,” Stan continues quietly. The implications hang.
“Oh god. Does...does he...?”
“He doesn't do it to himself, like me. Not intentionally, anyway. He drinks too much and ends up crashing his car. But he's a wreck the entire time. I never want to see him that way again.”
Stan and Richie were always best friends in a way that used to make Eddie's hackles rise on instinct, and...still does. He bristles in that familiar way because Stan knows Richie so well and cares so much for Richie, and Eddie selfishly wants Richie's attentions that way, too. He's still remembering new things, and being desperate for Richie's attention and then being overwhelmed when he got it is something he's recalling with alarming intensity.
“That can't happen!” Eddie hisses, filled with fury at the thought of Richie being so broken up about him that he never gets over it. And the others will lose three friends? It's not something Eddie can bear to think about. “Why does— Why's he lose it so much over...?”
“Are you really asking me this?” Stan asks tiredly, and when he looks at Eddie in that way he always used to, annoyed and exasperated, Eddie finds himself losing it all over again, just like he always used to.
“No, fuck, no, that's not okay, you can't just fucking spring shit like this on me and then— What the fuck does that even mean, I don't know shit.”
“Eddie?” Bill asks, and Eddie whirls back to face the group, who got a little ahead of him. Eddie didn't even realize he stopped walking. “W-what is it?”
Eddie glances between their worried faces and settles on Richie's, whose eyes are wide with worry behind his glasses, and Eddie starts hyperventilating.
“Fucking shit, fucking—nnghh!” He reaches for the inhaler he knows he doesn't need, and he considers throwing it as hard as he can, but the thought passes because he does need it, just not in the way he thought he did. Instead he clutches it like a precious fucking artifact and doubles over as he uses it, inhaling the water vapor like it's an actual drug.
“Eddie!” Richie is suddenly there, patting his back, his shoulders. “What's wrong, what is it, c'mon—“
“It muh-might be...Pennywise,” Bill says.
Eddie shakes his head furiously and tries to force himself to breathe, getting madder when he can't. Isn't it such bullshit that even knowing something is all in your head doesn't make it stop? It's only worse somehow because his own mind is playing tricks on him. He both pushes Richie away and clings to him at the same time, and he settles for a death grip on Richie's sleeve.
“I can't—can't breathe,” he rasps, and Richie's arms fly around him, not too tight. He smells like cheap cologne and fake leather and it's the best thing Eddie's ever smelled in his pathetic life.
“It's okay, just focus on me. Focus on what I'm doing. Try to breathe when I do, okay? Yeah, that's good, you're doing good, Eds,” Richie says in a soothing voice. Eddie sobs at how much he loves the stupid nickname and how much it calms him down.
He thinks of how it would be if things were reversed, if he learned he was the one who had to go on without Richie in the future. He doesn't think he'd make it a whole two years, and that knowledge makes his heart break even more.
“He's okay,” Richie says to the others. Then, softer, to Eddie, “Just hang on to me, man, I'm here.”
“Richie,” he sobs, his voice wrecked. Richie curses and holds him tighter.
“Let's all just rest a minute,” Beverly says, and Eddie loves her. “It's been a long night and none of us have slept. It's amazing we aren't all having an attack.”
“But,” Mike starts, and Bill puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Just a f-few muh-minutes, Mike.”
Beverly lights a cigarette and Ben trails after her, looking lovesick as always. Eddie, meanwhile, realizes his hands are fisted in the back of Richie's jacket, but he doesn't let go because it's helping to ground him.
“Did you see something, Eds?” Richie asks quietly.
Eddie considers telling him, because Richie wouldn't think he was crazy. He doesn't know why exactly he isn't telling the others. They could probably help him figure things out, and surely they'd have things to ask Stan themselves. But if Eddie was going to tell any of them, it'd be Richie, because even Bill is willing to risk everything for a ritual that won't work out of pure desperation, and Richie is the only one as pissed off to be here as Eddie is. So, face still buried in Richie's neck, Eddie nods.
“What was it? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone else.”
“It's not...It. Since I got back here, since the restaurant, I... I see...” He sighs and breathes in Richie's scent more, letting it steel him. “It's Stan.”
“What?”
“He was there, sitting in his chair, and I just knew he was dead. I knew before anyone else. And I thought it was crazy, because I didn't remember Pennywise, but then I did and this—isn't that. It's not the clown. It's Stan, and he's dead, and only I can see him.”
“Eddie...”
“I know how it sounds, and I need you to believe me when I say it's not a trick. I can feel it.”
“But why would you be the only one who can see him? We all made the oath. We should all see him.”
“I think we will, one by one, when it's...the next one's turn to die.”
Richie's breath hitches, and he pulls back from Eddie, face stricken. He shakes his head.
“Bev said there wasn't an order!”
“She said that because it was in front of me, and she already knows I'm next. Stan was the weakest, and I'm the next one to go, so I can see him. After me, I don't know. Apparently Stan and I weren't supposed to survive this and everyone else was.” Eddie looks closely at Richie's face, and he makes a soft noise in his throat at all the anguish and fear he sees there. He reaches up before he can think better of it, his hand brushing Richie's cheek. “I need you to believe me.”
Richie leans into his hand almost desperately, his wild eyes searching over Eddie's face. “I do. I do fucking believe you, and I'm scared, okay? I can't—Eddie, I can't lose you too. I won't—“
He won't make it. He doesn't say that last part, but Eddie hears it anyway, and he hates that he knows just how true it is. The look on Richie's face and the way he holds tightly to Eddie screams implications that Eddie longs to believe, but he's scared to, because what if he's wrong?
Are you really asking me this? Stan had asked, like Eddie should just know why Richie can't let go of him. And maybe deep down, he does know why. He knows he wouldn't be able to let go of Richie, either. He knows it's why he's telling Richie, and no one else about Stan.
But now isn't the time to think about these things. Not when Pennywise is alive. Maybe not even later, because Eddie is married and too much of a coward to let himself have what he wants.
Maybe there will be time, at some incredible point, and since Stan said time isn't linear, he might know for sure when that is.
Eddie will remind himself to ask later.
***
They find the clubhouse and listen to Mike talk about the ritual that won't work. They remember Stan and his worries, always practical in a way Eddie never could be, and Eddie looks at the hammock with a blush on his face that's mirrored similarly on Richie's.
They stand side by side, shoulders touching. No one else comments on it. When Mike tells them they need to split up to retrieve their artifacts, Richie scoffs and throws an arm around Eddie's shoulders.
“No fucking way. We were together all that summer.”
“Not all of it,” Mike says, and they remember the fight. Richie glares at Bill.
“Oh, yeah. You punched me. You bastard.”
“Sorry,” Bill says in a way that says he's not all that sorry about it. “You said Guh-Georgie was d-dead.”
Eddie wasn't there for this fight, but he did hear about it. Richie had crawled through his window the night it happened, after Eddie got his arm set and was on pain pills, grounded and miserable. Richie was suddenly in his bed, sobbing, holding Eddie for dear life and saying he was sorry over and over for letting Eddie get hurt. Eddie was high off his mind but he pet Richie's hair and murmured it was fine and then Richie said Bill punched him. “You nearly died, Eds, you almost died and he didn't even fucking care and I was just so mad...” They didn't talk about it afterwards, because Eddie woke later to find Richie gone, and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a dream.
Richie narrows his eyes at Bill as if to say, “Yeah, well he WAS dead.” Eddie nudges Richie with his shoulder and gives him a look to shut him up. To the side of them, Beverly snorts.
“A lot of bad things happened,” Ben says nervously. “Getting mad about it now won't help. What do we need to do exactly, Mike?”
“You need to remember the rest of our story,” Mike says. “We've all got a good chunk of it now, but we have to know all of it for the ritual to work.”
Richie meets Eddie's eyes, his face sour. Eddie glares back at him, and they argue silently.
“No way we're separating,” Richie's face says.
“We have to,” Eddie's says in return. “This is why no one ever tells you secrets, because you're bad at keeping them.”
“What?” Richie's face says, because he doesn't understand the eyebrow thing Eddie just did. Eddie huffs and looks away from him. Richie is always missing important signals.
The others reluctantly go their separate ways, and Eddie stands with Richie and Stan in the middle of the Barrens, hands in his pockets.
“I'm going with you,” Richie says.
“I don't think it works that way,” Eddie says, looking to Stan. “Stan says we can't change too much. It'll fuck up the timeline or something.”
“What the fuck does that mean? Stan! Stan, where are you, you bastard, if you're as stubborn in death as you are in life you can talk to me, I'm sure of it!” Richie throws his hands up. Stan looks warily at him.
“C'mon, Rich, surely you know about some of this stuff. You get an opportunity to go back in time and kill a bad guy, but then you go back to your time and find out some other bad guy exists now and is even worse than the other one and you caused it? I don't know shit about time and ghosts and—stuff, but Stan seems adamant that only a few things can change. Right now, we need to separate.” Eddie gives Richie a smile that probably isn't convincing.
“What if it happens now?” Richie asks weakly.
“If what happens?”
“If I leave you alone and you die!” Richie barks. He looks almost unhinged. “I can't fucking live with that!”
“It's not now,” Stan says.
“Stan says it's not now,” Eddie repeats. Richie doesn't look convinced.
“How the fuck do we know this is even Stan?”
“Rich...” Eddie says tiredly.
“No, for real. I know you say it doesn't feel like Pennywise, but it's been twenty-seven goddamn years since we've seen the guy. He could be better at hiding it. How do we know it's really Stan? I'm gonna ask a question only the real Stan would know.”
“Go for it,” Stan says. Eddie just motions at Richie to go on.
“That same summer we thought we killed It, what did I tell him in confidence when we were alone in his room?” Richie asks triumphantly.
“Tell him he does not want me to answer that in front of you,” Stan tells Eddie. Eddie frowns and repeats it to Richie, whose eyes go wide and frantic.
“Not that!” Richie elaborates. “The other thing! It was when I stayed for dinner and his mom made pasta and...” Richie gestures a vague motion with his hand.
Stan makes a face and then wrinkles his nose. “The thing about him finding Tom Selleck's mustache attractive? I thought he was joking.”
“Something about Tom Selleck and his hot mustache?” Eddie asks Richie, whose mouth falls open.
“Shit,” Richie says.
“Mustaches are not attractive, for the record. Do you know how much bacteria gets caught in them daily? Think about how much you eat and drink in a day. Fucking gross,” Eddie says.
“Think about all the flesh eating bacteria in the razor you use to shave with, though,” Richie counters, and Eddie gapes at him, lost for words.
“Oh my god,” Eddie finally says.
“Yeah. You don't know everything. Should expand your risk analyst repertoire.”
“Did you fucking Google that word, you piece of—“
“Guys,” Stan hisses, exasperated.
“We're splitting up now,” Eddie says, pointing at Richie warningly. “So don't fucking die, okay, or I'll kill you again.”
“Really rich, coming from you. Aren't you on death row or something?” Richie asks.
“I'm telling you to be careful!”
“Then just say that!”
“This is Hell. This is Hell, and I must've been a horrible person,” Stan says to himself, and Eddie decides, yeah, okay, it's time to go.
***
Remembering just how badly his anxieties were and just how much adults used to enable him is somehow a highlight of his journey. Getting barfed on by the leper is the definitive low point. He marches through the townhouse, passing Beverly, covered in black filth.
“Are you okay?” Beverly asks.
“Fine, I'm fine,” he says flippantly, passing her quickly. He runs into Richie outside his room.
“Eds! Fuck, what—what's all over you?”
“Leper barf,” Eddie says in a far more level voice than he feels. “I need to shower now, immediately.”
“Yeah, okay, you do that. Um. Are you okay?” Richie asks uncertainly. Eddie laughs, and something about it must be unhinged, because Richie doesn't stop him from going into his bathroom again.
Honestly, Eddie should have expected Bowers to be there with a knife, but as a risk analyst he knows better than most how hindsight is always twenty-twenty.
***
“Oh, fuck,” Beverly says as she examines the hole in his cheek. Ben is inside Eddie's room, looking for Bowers. Richie is looking at him, expression terrified.
“Is it bad?” Eddie asks.
“Looks rugged, Eds,” Richie says. He gives a shaky thumbs up.
“He's gone,” Ben says when he emerges. “I saw him drive off in his old car. How the fuck is that thing still running?” He looks down at Eddie with soft eyes. “You okay, buddy?”
“I'm great. Always wanted a hole in my face,” Eddie says.
“It went right through. Nothing major,” Beverly says.
“If I keep swallowing blood, I'm going to vomit,” Eddie says.
“Spit it out then,” Richie advises, his face still white, his hands in his pockets.
“Not to be dramatic,” Stan says, “but someone needs to get to the library, or Mike's gonna die.”
Eddie stands and ignores Beverly's attempts to wipe at his face with the rag.
“I'm fine, we can bandage it in the car. Right now, we have to go, okay? Please trust me.”
***
Seeing Richie kill a man is one of the worst things Eddie's ever seen in his life, and he's seen very questionable things in New York.
It's not so much the act itself. Eddie's seen far more blood and gore than the average person. It's seeing Richie do it that hurts so bad. Richie, hands shaking, launching to save Mike because the rest of them are frozen in fear.
“It's how it was supposed to happen,” Stan says, but Eddie doesn't feel relief. He feels sick with shame, because it should be him with blood on his hands. Richie doesn't deserve to live with this.
“Rich!” Eddie cries when Richie doubles over and vomits. Ben goes to Mike's side, and Eddie scrambles to Richie's. “Fuck, are you okay? Wait, no, that's stupid, I'm sorry. Just—what can I do?”
“Stan sucks as a fucking spirit guide,” Richie hisses, narrowing his eyes.
“What?” Eddie asks, staring at him blankly.
“You got stabbed! You could've been killed! And I just fucking killed a guy! Isn't all this, I don't know, things that could be avoided by people who know the future?!”
“Richie, we can't change that much. I told you that.” Eddie glances at Stan, who looks guilty and small. “I'm fine. You're fine. Mike's fine. It was him or Bowers, and you made the right call. I would've made the same call.”
“Eds,” Richie breathes. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Eddie's, his eyes closed. He looks so tired, and so stressed. Eddie hates all of this, but he knows there isn't much he can do to fix it.
“You're the best part about all of this,” Eddie says, because he needs to say something. Richie blinks owlishly at him. “I mean it, okay? Even back then you made it...easier. You'd say stupid shit, and make me mad, and it would distract me from the worst of it. I don't guess I ever thanked you for that, but I'm doing it now.”
“I need to...to tell you about what I saw today. When I got my artifact,” Richie says, and Eddie nods.
“Okay, yeah, I'll tell you what I saw, too.”
“Guys!” Mike's voice cuts through. “Bill's going to fight It alone. He's on his way to Neibolt.”
“This is it,” Stan says, and Eddie's hands grip tight to Richie's shoulders.
“We're going to talk later, okay? And we're going to walk out of that fucking house knowing It's dead this time. We're never going to wonder again.”
“Okay,” Richie breathes, looking dazedly into Eddie's eyes. “I'll fucking agree to anything you say, as long as you keep looking at me like that.”
“Now isn't really the time,” Stan says weakly, but it does nothing to dull the moment.
***
Honestly, going back down under Neibolt is a lot like the first time. They're all sure they're going to their deaths, and they know they have no choice. They hold each other a little tighter, argue a little less, and do their best to stay together.
But it doesn't work out, just like the first time.
The ritual fails, just as Stan said it would. They all get thrown apart, aside from Eddie and Richie, who get hurdled toward Pennywise's same old tricks.
For an eternal demon space clown, he sure is redundant.
Eddie's hand is in Richie's as they run from Pennywise, who until moments ago was a very cute Pomeranian. Eddie grips him desperately, afraid to let go. Eddie almost let Richie die because he was so scared. He's never going to let Richie go again.
“Fuck, fuck!” Richie shouts as they run. “It's tonight, right? It's gotta be tonight! When am I supposed to know when this shit is going down, if only you can see Stan?”
“Because you're clearly staying with me!” Eddie shouts back.
“Well fucking duh. Never leaving your shitty, fake asthmatic ass again!”
“Fine! Whatever! Don't then! See if I fucking care!”
“You fucking care alright, you stupid fucker—“
And then Mike is screaming, and a lot of things happen very quickly after that.
Richie taunts It, and gets caught in the deadlights, floating from the ground, blood from his nose rising through the air. Eddie realizes very quickly no one else is going to stop this from happening, and he swallows every fear he's ever had and launches forward with the spear Beverly gave him.
“BEEP BEEP, MOTHERFUCKER!”
He throws the spear, and barely notices it lands in It's gaping mouth, because Richie is falling to the ground, and Eddie only cares about that. Eddie lands on all fours over Richie, and he slaps at Richie's cheek as gently as he can.
“Hey! Richie! Hey! There he is, buddy!” Eddie says excitedly as Richie blinks awake from his stupor. “Hey, I think I got—“
“MOVE, EDDIE!” Stan yells, and Eddie doesn't think twice, just rolls off Richie and lays beside him, side by side. They watch as It's claw soars over their heads, swiping at where Eddie was moments before.
“Fuck,” Richie breathes.
“I think... I think that was...”
“Get O-OUT of there!” Bill shouts, and they're rolling over each other to scramble away towards the little alcove out of reach of Pennywise's frantic swipes.
“Eddie!” Beverly sobs, launching into his arms even as Pennywise shouts and curses them. “You—you were... You were going to...!”
“I know. It's okay now. I think we're all going to be fine.” He holds her as tightly as she's holding him.
“I knew... I knew you were supposed to be next. I didn't know how it would happen. I didn't remember Stan's until after I already knew he was gone.” She sobs. “I'd never let you die if I knew how it'd happen, Eddie, I swear.”
“Bev, I know. Stop crying, okay? I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere.” It all has to do with how much they're allowed to change. Eddie was supposed to be dying now, so anything that happens after this is new. He looks back, and for some reason, Stan is still there, looking as confused as Eddie is about it.
“I know how to kill It,” Eddie tells them. Richie's hands grip his shoulders.
“Stan?” he whispers for Eddie's ears only.
“No. This one's all me,” Eddie says, smiling at him, and Richie holds his gaze for a moment before looking down, suddenly shy, and Eddie thinks despite everything, it's one of the best things he's seen.
***
In the aftermath, when It stops screaming, all of their hands, even Stan's, crushing It's heart together, the fog immediately lifts.
It's almost like all of them wake up after being asleep, and everything they ever forgot about their town comes flooding back. Bill stops stuttering. Somehow, Eddie swears he feels the entire town waking up with them, though they were all much more asleep than the Losers. Maybe on the news later, instead of saying an earthquake or a sinkhole caused the old house on Neibolt street to cave in, the anchors will actually say it was something unexplainable.
Then again, Eddie isn't going to hold his breath. Baby steps, and all that. He'd be happy with them mentioning it at all.
Bill decides they should clean off in the quarry, and Eddie bites his tongue on his reservations. After everything, it seems counterproductive to lecture them all on the brain-eating amoeba, and it's definitely not hot enough for them right now anyway, and there aren't a whole lot of recorded cases in Maine, but just in case, he tells them all they should avoid getting water up their noses.
“Oh, Eddie,” Beverly says, looking at him. “I love you. I'm so glad you're here.”
Eddie grins at her, and then she jumps first, just like the first time. But this time, Eddie holds Richie's hand as they jump together, and even when they hit the water, they never lose their grip.
“For the record,” Eddie tells them, “I hate this.”
“Cleaning off in dirty water?” Beverly asks.
“Imagine how fucking pissed I'm going to be if I helped kill a psychotic horror space clown just to die from a bacterial infection.” He points at his cheek. “This thing is fresh. I swear to everything that might exist, I will haunt you all. I'll take turns between you.”
“Isn't he cute, guys?” Richie asks, looking down at him fondly.
“The cutest,” Ben agrees. Eddie splashes water at him.
“Eddie, I have to ask... How did you know all that you did? This whole time, you never saw the deadlights. I'm certain of it. And you knew more than me.” Beverly watches him with pale green eyes, and Eddie decides they should all know now that it's over.
“Stan. He's been here this whole time. He wanted to change our ending.”
“Stan?” Bill breathes.
“I was supposed to get skewered back there, that's all I know. Stan says time isn't linear, and things get mixed up sometimes, but if I'm lucky I'll stay far the fuck away from that alternative timeline,” Eddie says. “It's over. I'm alive because of Stan.”
“Oh,” Beverly gasps, her eyes filling with tears.
“That time... When we found him with that woman from the painting, do you think...?” Mike asks.
“Yeah. I think he saw the deadlights. He was never the same, after that,” Bill says.
None of them ask how Beverly saw them so long ago and is still alive. They don't need to. Stan was a kind, soft-hearted man, and Beverly is a loving, fiery woman who has had to fight all her life. Things are different, people are different. Comparing them would be a disservice to them both.
Eddie looks over at Stan, who is watching them sullenly. He looks so out of place, and Eddie years for him to be part of this, or to pass on. He wants Stan to be at peace. He's earned it.
“Love you, Stan,” Richie calls to where Eddie is looking. All of the Losers call out to Stan, though only one of them can actually see him.
Stan sobs and waves from the shore.
***
Going back to the townhouse isn't ideal.
For one thing, Eddie got stabbed in the bathroom, and it's probably still covered in his and Bowers's blood. For another thing, despite loving his friends, Eddie is ready to get the hell out of Derry.
He's sure the others feel the same way.
It's overwhelmingly sunny outside, and Eddie has been up for over twenty-four hours by this point. They're all still riding their adrenaline rushes, but they're all going to crash very soon. Eddie waves to them before bounding up the stairs as fast as he can to retrieve some clothes and find a clean bathroom to shower in, but somehow, his bathroom is clean, and a new shower curtain is hanging up.
“So someone does work here...” he says to himself, but he can't question it too much, because if he doesn't clean himself off now he's going to lose his mind. He scrubs himself until his skin is pink and agitated, and then he dresses in some sweatpants and calls Myra for the first time since arriving, deciding now is as good a time as any.
He puts his wedding ring on the dresser, knowing he's not going to pick it up again.
The call doesn't go well. He finds himself caring less and less about what she's saying but he holds the phone to his ear and offers little mm-hmm's as she rants at him, and at some point he just passes out, completely and totally exhausted, phone still in his hand.
***
His dreams shift back and forth between things he recalls vaguely, and things he never knew. A life that isn't his flashes before his eyes, and while he sees himself in these memories, he knows he isn't seeing himself through his own eyes.
A creepy house on Neibolt street, Eddie's arm breaking, Eddie being lifted into Mike's newspaper basket and then being carted off by his angry mother. An argument with Bill, heated words that end in him laying on the ground, overwhelmed with hurt and betrayal.
Richie. These are Richie's memories.
Richie in an arcade playing with a boy with sandy blond hair, both of them laughing until Bowers shows up and all but chases Richie from the building, the word faggot following in Richie's wake. Fear, sick shame, the words echo in Richie's mind as he sits in the park and sobs into his hands.
Pennywise. A secret.
The kissing bridge. Richie's shaky hands as he carves letters into the wood that mean more to him than anything in the world, but he can't bring himself to say it. His hands linger over the carving. He quickly gets on his bike and peddles away, ignoring pain from the multiple splinters he got.
Reuniting. Killing Pennywise the first time. Holding Eddie's bloody hand and hating how much he still likes the excuse to do so.
Things after that look fuzzy, and it's parts of Richie's life Eddie never knew about, because this was after their memories of each other were gone.
Doing stand up for small crowds and having to stay and clean the floors after, drinking so much he barely knows how he makes it home some nights, sketched out buildings and copious drugs as he tries to rub elbows with the right people. Bigger crowds, more drinking, signing a contract hiring writers because his own jokes are too controversial, but you're hilarious either way, Rich.
Getting pushed into walls, thrown into beds, sobbing quietly into his hands in the aftermath because no one feels right, and he's looking for a certain shape he can't remember but he knows is real.
A phone call. A promise. Feelings returning as soon as he sees a dark haired man with big brown eyes standing across a restaurant. The same man above him, torn through with a claw in his middle, his blood all over Richie, his mouth sobbing Richie's name.
Eddie cries because he knows what's coming. This is the life that Stan saw. The reality that could've been, had Stan not saved him.
Richie, dragged away from Eddie's body, kicking and screaming, because he'd rather die with Eddie than live without him. A breakdown in the water. Re-carving something he knew twenty-seven years prior but knows all the more now. Going back to his old life and drinking himself to death day by day, blocking calls and numbers and texts from concerned friends, dreaming every night of Eddie and breaking down every morning, though it's exactly the same dream every time.
Getting behind the wheel of his car when he's wasted and accelerating even as he nears a sharp curve because he just doesn't care anymore...
Eddie wakes with a sharp cry and struggles to breathe, but he doesn't reach for his inhaler. There's warmth behind him, and he turns to see Richie sleeping next to him, his arms around Eddie, his brow furrowed from his own bad dreams.
The room is darker than it was when he passed out on the phone with Myra. He has no idea how much time has passed, but his body feels stiff, like he's been sleeping for a long time without moving. He groans softly and rolls over, putting his hands on Richie's face and smoothing out the worry lines.
“N-no...Eddie... Please, no...!” Richie whimpers, and Eddie wonders if they were seeing the same thing. Those alternate timelines. He wonders if it was Stan that made them see it.
“Richie. Hey. Rich!” Eddie shakes him and Richie's eyes fly open, wild and frantic, and they settle on Eddie. “There he is.” Eddie smiles at him.
“Eds,” Richie sobs, and he lunges at Eddie, scooping him up and clinging to him so tightly Eddie worries for his own spine. He pets through Richie's hair and tries to be soothing, though he's not the best at it. “You died. I saw you die. I saw me live without you and, I...”
“That's over. It's not happening, okay? We avoided that. I'm here, and I'm with you.”
Richie puts his hand over Eddie's bare chest, his breath stilling when he feels the steady thumping of Eddie's heart. He looks broken up and terrified.
“I got into your bed,” Richie says after a while, because he always has to say something. Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, I figured I didn't carry you here, asshole.”
“I wasn't planning on it. I wanted to pop my head in to ask, at least, but you were asleep, and some woman was yelling at you on the phone. I hung up on her for you.”
“That was Myra. I told her I want a divorce.”
Richie nods, and his hand finds Eddie's left hand, his thumb swiping over Eddie's fingers to feel for a ring that's no longer there. He's still being so careful, like he's afraid he's misreading things between them.
“Guess she didn't take that well, then,” Richie says.
“No shit. She threatened to sue me.” Eddie grins when Richie snorts.
“For what?”
“I dunno, breach of contract? Like, I signed up to love her forever and I lied? I told her divorce exists, and has for a long ass time, and then she yelled at me for cursing at her.” Eddie sighs. “Christ. When I think of how much time I wasted. I never knew I could do better. Have better.” Eddie curls his fingers into Richie's hair, scratching lightly and lovingly at Richie's scalp. Richie shivers.
“So after I hung up on her for you, I just decided, I wanna spoon Eds, so I did. Sorry if that's creepy. I mean, I know it's creepy. But I had to be with you, okay? I have to be with you,” Richie babbles. “You're the most important thing in the fucking world to me.”
“You carved our initials in the kissing bridge.” Eddie grins at Richie's shocked expression. “We had the same dream. I saw you doing it.”
“Guess the fucking cat's out of the bag, then,” Richie says. “Why'd we have the same dream? Do you think everyone did?”
“No. I think Stan needed us to see that. I think we needed to know what it would be like to...lose each other. What we could have missed out on.”
“Stan.” Richie nods. “Is he still here?”
Eddie doesn't even look around. He knows the answer without checking. “No. I don't think he's coming back anymore.” Stan needed them to all be happy. He saved Eddie, and he left Eddie in Richie's arms. Stan knows they'll all be fine, now.
“Eds,” Richie breathes, and then Eddie leans forward and kisses him.
“I love you,” Eddie says, because Richie needs to hear it. Richie's face crumples in a way that worries the hell out of Eddie for a second, but then it's like a dam breaks, and Richie is hovering over him, pressing him in the bed, and kissing him like his life depends on it.
“I fucking— I've always loved you. Even when we were kids and I didn't know that's what it was. Even when I couldn't remember. No one was ever right, because no one was—“
“I know,” Eddie reminds him. “I saw.”
Richie seems to suddenly comprehend their position, and he looks bashful for all of a second before Eddie is pulling him back down, kissing him harder, rubbing up against him with intent. Richie melts on top of him, groaning into Eddie's mouth in a way that shouldn't be as ridiculously hot as it is. Richie pulls back to look at him, pupils wide, hair wrecked. Eddie imagines he looks the same.
“You're fucking beautiful, Eds,” Richie whispers, sounding emotional about it. “I've always, just— I've wanted this for so long, and...”
“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “I want this, too. I want you. Stop thinking so much.”
“Sounds crazy, coming from you. How are you the calm one, here?”
“I don't know. Maybe because this is finally happening? Maybe because It's dead for good now, and being scared to have what I want is too bizarre to even think about. I fucking earned having this. We both did. And nothing else matters because even if you're bad in bed, I'll still love you because you're you and...” Eddie laughs softly, shaking his head. “I've been yours for as long as I can remember. I don't think that's going to change.”
Richie's mouth hangs open comically, and then he's glaring down at Eddie, no real heat to it. “First of all, I'm great in the sack.”
“Okay.”
“Second of all, you're goddamn right you're mine.” Richie pauses. “But, uh. To reiterate the first talking point, I don't think I'm gonna last long.”
Eddie peers up at him. “Really?”
“Dude, you're literally every wet dream I've ever had. I've never really planned to get this far.” Richie grinds down against him, and Eddie's eyes slide closed at the friction. It's overwhelming how hard Richie already is just from kissing him.
“Fuck, Rich...” Eddie licks his lips, nervous now. “No one's ever... I mean, I guess I never thought of myself as the kind of person someone could have wet dreams about. I'm not exactly Ben, you know?”
“Oh, baby,” Richie coos, “I'm gonna show you just how much I want you.” He reaches down and slides Eddie's sweatpants off. “It's a good thing Stan passed on. I don't think he'd wanna watch what I'm about to do to you.”
It is over quickly, but Eddie can't make fun of anything because he's the one coming first. Richie presses him into the bed, his big hand pumping both their dicks, his mouth against Eddie's ear murmuring filthy things one second and loving praises the next. Eddie's nails rake down his back because it's so much and they're barely even having sex at all.
Is this what it could have been like all these years?
“That's it, Eds, fuck, you're so good, so good for me,” Richie gasps as Eddie trembles under him, crying out curses and Richie's name. Eddie bites down into Richie's shoulder and Richie seizes above him, groaning loudly as he spills himself into his hand. He falls gracelessly onto Eddie, who's too blown apart to even comment on the mess between their bodies.
“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. “You're even scrappy in bed. I fucking knew you would be.”
“Shut up,” Eddie says, but he pulls Richie even closer and runs his fingers soothingly along the scratch marks on Richie's back. “You've got about five minutes before I'm dragging you to the shower.”
“Mm. Enough time to bask, I guess,” Richie hums, and he lifts his head to lick into Eddie's mouth, and it ends up actually being about ten minutes, but who's counting anyway?
***
“Hey bitches,” Richie announces as they arrive at the restaurant and meet the other Losers. He holds up Eddie's hand. “Me and Eds are fucking now. Please contain your disappointment at missing out on the chance to get with me, I know I'm hot stuff. Looking at you here, Ben.”
“Beep fucking beep, Richie!” Eddie hisses, yanking his hand away and shoving Richie hard enough that he actually stumbles.
“Well, it's about time,” Beverly says, a wide smile on her face.
“Wait. You aren't kidding? Like, I always thought it was a weird courting thing you were doing, but it's also Richie, so it's hard to tell,” Mike says.
“He's my rebound,” Eddie says. “I'm getting divorced.”
“Hey, me too,” Beverly says. “Let's order a few drinks and toast to that.”
“I'm happy for you guys,” Bill says, looking at them with a smile so wide his eyes crinkle in the corners, and Eddie still feels weightless just from Bill's approval.
Ben moves forward and actually picks Eddie up, and Eddie squawks in protest.
“Damn, Haystack, if you want Eds, you gotta take me too. We're kind of a package deal now,” Richie says.
“I'm just so happy,” Ben says, putting Eddie down and moving to hug Richie, who reciprocates much better than Eddie did. “I love you guys so much.”
“Ben's had a few celebratory mimosas today,” Beverly explains as Ben weeps a little.
“Get a man drunk and toss him my way,” Richie says. “I like how you think, Marsh.”
They order drinks and way too much food, and they laugh and talk and celebrate the proper way, no demon clown looming over them this time. Ben leans into Beverly and keeps kissing her hair, and Mike announces he's moving to Florida at the beginning of the month. Bill is going to go home and take Audra on the fanciest date he can, and then he's going to start a new book.
“Is the ending gonna suck?” Richie asks, and Bill tosses a napkin at him.
“What are you two lovebirds gonna do?” Beverly asks Richie.
“I'm gonna go back to Cali and work on my act. I'm already in talks with Netflix for a special but I think I'd like to write my own jokes for it. Gotta see if I can let go of my writers without getting sued or something. I'm not exactly in the good graces right now since my stage meltdown.”
“And I've gotta go back to New York and file for divorce. Or maybe Myra's already done that. I'm sure she's going to try and take me for all I'm worth, but that's fine. I just want to get away from that life.” Eddie takes a sip of his wine. “I want a fresh start.”
“You can always come live with me,” Richie says. “I kind of love you.”
“I was already planning on it, asshole. I've been Googling jobs in LA all morning.”
“Fuck yeah. Gonna shack up with my Eds here, gonna be a hot comedian. Life's looking up for old Richie Tozier.” He smiles at Eddie, and they both know the other is thinking about that life they saw before, the one that could've been if Eddie had died. Eddie leans forward and kisses him, squeezing Richie's thigh under the table, because that future is never happening. Eddie's going to make sure of it.
“I wanna toast to Stan,” Bill says softly, watching Richie and Eddie fondly. “We owe a lot to him. We always did, but...even more so now.”
They raise their glasses to Stan, and even though Stan's gone for good now, Eddie looks over to Stan's empty chair, still present at their table, and he feels like Stan is there, with them, happy for them all.
***
Eddie drops off his rental car and then clamors into Richie's, stuffing his suitcases in the backseat.
“Should've just taken my rental to the airport. This car is fucking ridiculous, Rich.”
“You chose a different rental place. I got this baby from the airport. Makes more sense to take mine. Besides, you better get used to this car, because I've got one just like it at home,” Richie says.
“Of course you do.”
They drive past all the old sights, which aren't much to behold, but they're full of memories. As they near the kissing bridge, Eddie squeezes Richie's shoulder.
“Stop the car. I wanna see it for real.”
Richie hesitates, but he pulls over, and Eddie exits the car and goes to the end of the bridge where he saw a younger Richie carving into the wood twenty-seven years prior, almost sick with fear, but so determined, too. Eddie runs his fingers carefully over the carving, a smile on his lips.
“Do you have a knife with you?” he asks Richie, who nods and hands it over, his hands going into his pockets as he watches Eddie lean over and refresh the carving.
“There,” Eddie announces. He added a little heart next to it, and it looks a little wonky, but it looks pretty cute, too. He turns back to Richie, who is all but blubbering silently into his hands.
“I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm just— I'm really happy. These are good tears, man,” Richie says, and Eddie moves into his space, pulling him down into a tight hug, letting him get it all out. “I love you so much,” Richie adds, and Eddie laughs softly.
“Love you too. Now c'mon, let's get the fuck out of Derry.”
As they leave the bridge and the rest of the town behind, Eddie pulls out his phone and laughs at what Ben added to their Loser's group chat. He reads it out to Richie, who tells Eddie what to type in response, and Eddie grins at him as Richie threads their fingers together and kisses Eddie's hand.
So many possible endings, but this is theirs now, and they won't have to wait long until they're back together again. Eddie knows he won't ever leave Richie's side again after they reunite, just like when they were kids and clumsily always sought each other out, not knowing why.
Now they know well enough.
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Wonderful
He was a punk. He did ballet. What more can I say?
Eddie has a crush on his ballet partner’s boyfriend, Richie.
(I heard sk8er boi by Avril Lavigne and thought of reddie. So, here’s the product of that.)
Read it on AO3
Inhale. Exhale. You can do this. Eddie and his partner had been trying to perfect this one lift in their routine for what seemed like hours. He was sticky with sweat, needing to change his tights, and was getting a headache in the base of his neck.
“Go.” He said. She ran at him.
He stuck out his arms as she jumped. She landed bridal style. As soon as she was steady in his embrace, he threw her up, using his elbows and pushing as hard as she could so she flew. She spun, her hands grabbing for his shoulders. She was unsteady.
He cursed and brought her to the floor.
She huffed; her hands on her hips. “What the fuck, Eddie?”
“There’s something up with your spin. Your landing is off or something.” He ran his fingers through his damp hair.
She scoffed, taking her blonde hair out of her top knot. “My spin is fine. It’s not my fault that you’re not throwing me up high enough.” Angelica annoyed him more than any of the other girls at the studio, but she was the best dancer and they were an excellent team. They pushed each other. They were both the best and they knew it. Eddie couldn’t complain about being partnered with her when he saw all his medals and trophies before he went to bed every night.
“Well, it’s not my fault you have weak arms!”
Somehow they always ended up this way- in a screaming match.
“OH PLEASE! I have weak arms? You can barely even lift me, Kaspbrak!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, poking her finger against his chest.
He shoved her finger away and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with, Monroe.”
She back stepped a few paces. She tossed her hair up again, the elastic twisting around her fingers before snapping against her bun. “Just make sure you can fucking throw me this time.”
“I’ll throw you into next Tuesday.” He said under his breath as she began to run forward.
He caught her. She spun in the air, bracing her arms on his shoulder when she flipped. With his hands on her hips, holding her high in the air, she split her legs. He held her up by one hand, then, a little longer than he’s supposed to just to show his strength. He smirked. Then, while turning his body, with both hands he slowly flipped her over before bringing her to the ground again in their final pose.
They jumped at the sound of clapping. In the reflection of the mirror in front of them, they saw across the studio was a Richie Tozier, clapping with a goofy grin on his face.
“You did so great, baby!” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt his face grow hotter. The pain in the back of his neck intensified as Angelica squealed and ran into Richie’s arms.
Baby. Eddie had heard Richie call him that a million times in his head. Sometimes when he sat in class and saw Richie picking at the neon-colored band-aids on his elbows. Sometimes when he saw Richie roll passed the library window, boombox on his shoulder, while Eddie studied. Eddie couldn’t even think of how many times he’d imagined being wrapped in those pale, lanky arms while Richie laughed lightly and whispered that word in his ear. Sometimes when he laid in bed at night, eyes closed, panting, his hand down his…
Eddie found himself staring, a chill running down his spine. He quickly grabbed his bag, hauling it over his shoulder and putting his water bottle to his lips. Hopefully, if he had enough water in his mouth as he walked passed them, he wouldn’t have to speak and make a fool of himself.
“Hey, Eds!” So close.
He swallowed the liquid. “Don’t call me that, Richard.”
Richie’s eye crinkled in the corner when he laughed, his lips stretching over crooked teeth. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to come to this shindig I’m throwing at the pipes? 10 o’clock?”
The pipes. It was an abandoned zoo on the outskirts of Derry. The teens of Derry got up to no good there. Bev told him that she saw Richie shredding up the old gorilla habitat on his board, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Bev was braver than Eddie. He was afraid of going to the pipes.
Eddie could feel the pain in his neck grow larger, into his shoulders as he gazed down at Angelica’s disgusted face. She lightly hit her boyfriend’s chest from where she was hooked under Richie’s arm. “He doesn’t skate, Rich.”
Eddie felt his mouth start to move. “And I’m not a loser stoner either. So thanks but no thanks.”
Richie gripped his chest like he’d just been shot. His smile somehow seemed wider. “You wound me, Eds.”
Eddie pushed passed them. “Don’t call me that.”
As Eddie got into the shower later that day, feeling the sweat melt from his body, he made up his mind. He’d be at the pipes that night. Richie had asked him to go after all, and how could he say no to an old friend?
Warmth spread over him, not only from the water falling onto his shoulders and trailing down his body but the memories that flooded his thoughts. They had been friends when they were younger.
“Best friends,” Richie said, holding Eddie under his arm. His knuckles dug into Eddie’s scalp, messing up his carefully gelled hair.
“Stop it, Rich!” Eddie pushed him, his hands gripping the taller boy’s hip. “God, ya know, I hate it when you do that!” He straightened his bright colored polo shirt, flattening his hair with his casted arm.
“I can’t help it, Spaghetti!” He pinched his cheek, muttering ‘cute, cute, cute!’ and making kissy noises.
“Gross.” Eddie’s ears turned pink.
Eddie lathered the strawberry shampoo into his hair with both hands, massaging his headache away. The fruity scent made him think of summer. The sun making his skin burn. His lungs working harder than usual as he ran around the Denbrough’s backyard…
“You’ll never catch me, slowpoke!” Richie yelled over his shoulder as his Hawaiian shirt flapped under his arms. His laugh echoed in the backyard.
“You’re n-n-not being fair, T-trashmouth!” Bill yelled from the sidelines.
Eddie frowned, pumping his arms harder, moving his legs faster.
“Fuck,” Richie muttered as he fell behind Eddie by a few steps. Stan yelled praise to Eddie from where he stood next to Bill.
Eddie jumped up and hit the windchime on the fence they were running to. He won the race.
Richie jogged up and hit the windchime with his hand (without having to jump, much to Eddie’s annoyance). He huffed out a breath. “Damn. Good job, Spaghetti.”
“Don’t call me that.” Eddie wheezed.
“Boys! Strawberries!” They spun around to see Mrs. Denbrough coming out of the back door with a plate of fruit in her hand and Georgie on her hip.
They made eye contact then started running, shoving each other and laughing the whole way.
Eddie sighed, turning the porcelain knob. He stepped out of the shower and ran a towel over his hair. He wrapped the towel around his body and padded into his room. He picked up his gym bag, throwing it onto his bed.
Richie bounced up and down, the bed creaking noisily.
“Cut it out, Rich! You’re going to break the bed.” Eddie chastised from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, a comic book in his hands.
Richie landed on his stomach on the mattress, catching his chin in his hands. “You’re right. Can’t break two Kaspbrak beds. Since I destroyed your mom’s last night.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, not looking up from the comic pages. “You’re disgusting.”
Richie rolled on his back, laughing at the ceiling.
Eddie removed his dance shoes from the bag, throwing them on the hook next to his closet door. He emptied the rest of the bag out onto the bed. He threw his sweaty clothes in his hamper. He lifted the empty sandwich box he’d had since first grade; he ran his finger over the ‘EK’ and ‘RT’ scratched into the top.
Eddie blushed, picking the scab on his knee under the table. He pushed his green sandwich box across the lunch table toward Richie. Eddie felt bad for the other 7-year-old. He seemed to forget his lunch bag as he ran out the door every morning. Richie always sat with the rest of their classmates, tummy rumbling as he eyed their chicken nuggets and peanut butter sandwiches.
Richie looked up from staring at Bills lunch with a frantic gaze. Eddie had never seen someone look so crazy over baby carrots. Richie looked down at the sandwich in front of him. Eddie smiled at him. Richie smiled back, picking up half of the sandwich and shoving it in his mouth- jelly spilling on the front of his shirt.
Eddie threw the container back in his bag. He pulled on boxers and fell backward onto his bed, sighing up at his ceiling.
Everything had changed once high school had started. Eddie got more uptight, and serious about dancing. He spent most of his time in the library nervous about school. Richie got more laid back, and serious about making silly voices that made girls giggle. Eddie heard that he was always under the bleachers out by the football field, cracking jokes and smoking pot.
Eddie folded his hands on his stomach, getting lost in his thoughts of his faded friendship.
“That’s my boy right there!” Beverly whispered as Eddie straddled his second-floor windowsill.
Eddie put his finger to his lips, shushing his friend. “Bev! My mom will hear you!”
She took a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, watching him shimmy his way down the drain pipe next to his window. “Sorry. It’s just not every day that my hard-working nerd friend wants to party with me.” She lit the stick that was between her lips.
When his feet hit the ground, his let out a shaky breath. What was he doing? He looked up at his window, his curtains flowing out in the wind with the dark night sky as it’s background. He felt stupid.
“Bev…” He whispered.
“What?” She began to walk down his lawn, toward the street.
“Do you… Do you think I have a chance with a guy like Richie?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he walked beside her, his hands cradling his elbows. He felt comfort in the softness of his sweater.
She let out a breath of smoke before turning her head to him. She smiled. “’Course, Eddie. He’d be dumb not to want you.” She knocked shoulders with him. “Just because we’re all different people now doesn’t mean we’re not the losers club deep down.”
Eddie nodded. He bit his lip. “That’s the problem, though.” Bev cocked her head to the side, questioning. “He is dumb.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “You got me there, Eddie.”
Eddie didn’t know what he expected the pipes to be like in all honesty. He was sure it wasn’t what he walked into with Bev though.
It was just a bunch of broken down habitats covered in dirt and terrible graffiti done by teenagers that think dick pictures are hilarious. There were skateboarders everywhere, shredding away on their colorfully painted boards. There were random groups of teens scattered around. Kids were screaming and laughing and tilting back liquor bottles. He felt suddenly overwhelmed when he saw Angelica.
She was on Richie’s back, his large hands cupping her thighs. They were surrounded by a cloud of smoke like they were in their own little bubble together. She slowly took the pipe down from her mouth and put it to Richie’s lips. He closed his eyes as she lit the end with the lighter in her hand. Richie inhaled, his chest rising. Eddie held his breath.
Richie’s lips were pink around the glass pipe pressed to them, the same soft, light pink of the girls’ outfits at the ballet. His lashes brushed against his freckled cheeks. Eddie remembered a time when he would count each freckle in the pillow forts in Richie’s living room during sleepovers.
“Eddie?” Beverly’s voice broke him away from the scene in front of him.
“Yeah?” He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, his nerves getting the best of him.
“Are you okay?” She put a hand on his shoulder.
He nodded, eyes roaming the party in front of him again. He noticed the large metal barrel full of ice, beer and soda cans next to where Richie and Angelica swayed together. “I- I think I’m just going to get something to drink.”
Beverly smiled. “Sounds good.” She split away from him, going on a search to find Ben and Mike.
Inhale. Exhale. You can do this. Eddie started walking toward the couple. He reached the barrel. He pushed the ice around digging through for a specific drink. Another arm joined his.
“Diet Cherry.” Richie pulled the soda from the bottom right away. “Your favorite.” He handed it to Eddie.
“Uh, thanks.” Eddie could feel his ears turning pink as he tapped the top of the can with his fingernail.
Richie smiled down at him, his eyes a bit puffy. He threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “I’m glad you came tonight, Eddie Spaghetti.”
“Me too, Trashmouth.” He said with a smile on his lips and butterflies in his stomach.
Eddie felt that maybe this was the start of something wonderful.
How is this even about the song? Who knows. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed it! I’m feeling BalletDancer!Eddie so this story might resurface with a different plot.
Or if I get a lot of feedback (pls love me) I’ll continue this one! Thank you!
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It Section Nine
Chapters 20-21
1. What happens when Audra wakes up in the middle of the night? Who does she meet?
She had a nightmare and usually when that happens, Bill is there to comfort her. But she remembers he's in Derry, which is actually what she was dreaming about, so she tries to call him at the hotel. But he doesn't pick up and so when the call goes back to the front desk, the agent tells her that Bill just had a call from another room in the hotel, which he did answer, so he probably went to that room. Well Audra immediately thinks it's a woman and Bill went to her room and is having an affair. So she decides she needs to get to Derry immediately. And that's when she gets a visit from Pennywise and the bathroom door opens and she hears "we all float down here, Audra." She immediately flees from the room and out to the parking lot. And while she's trying to find the keys to the rental car, that's when she meets Tom Rogan...
2. Who answers when Bev calls the library? What do they tell her?
The police chief answers and tells Bev that Mike has been taken to the hospital because he's been severely assaulted. He is immediately suspicious of her because she's calling the library at three thirty am. She won't give her name, though, even though he asks for it a couple of times. And he tells her that Mike was so badly injured that he might not live through the night. She asks if this is just a tactic to scare her or if he's really that badly injured. And, well, the chief isn't lying.
3. What does Richie learn when he calls the hospital?
Richie learns that Mike is in critical condition from his assault and he's lost about as much blood as a body can lose and still stay alive. The hospital tells him that Mike managed to tourniquet his injury, otherwise he probably would've been dead when the police arrived. For now, he's still alive but he's definitely not doing well.
4. What do the Losers find at the pumping station?
First, they find the lid has been removed. They think that it possibly could've been off since they were there last but the pumping station also hadn't been working then so wouldn't someone have come to fix it and replaced the cover? Then Ben realizes that the lid was removed after the last rain. So then they're throwing matches down in there to see when Bill notices something. They fish it out and it's a purse. But Bill recognizes the purse and he opens it and dumps the contents just to be sure. It's Audra's purse.
5. What happens to those who see It in its true form?
Basically they go mad. It says that all of the masks and glamours that It usually wears are just mirrors, throwing back at the terrified viewer the worst thing in his or her own mind. But seeing It without any of those masks basically destroys the person's mind. Once they see It in its true form, their mind belongs to It. That's when the person enters the deadlights. That or the person just drops dead of shock. (Shout out to Tom Rogan, who is wEAK.)
6. While the Losers are down in the sewers, what is happening in the town?
Basically a lot of weird stuff is going on in town. The bell at the Grace Baptist Church, which had chimed faithfully every hour and half since its installation in 1898, didn't chime at five am, just as the Losers were making their way into the sewers. And even though people didn't consciously ~notice that the clock hadn't chimed, they were unsettled for some reason they couldn't pinpoint. The forecast for the day had also been clear but it started absolutely POURING. It's almost like It is fighting back against the Losers in the sewer by flooding them with drainage. And the sewers also started randomly backing up and killing women with flying toilet bits. So. That's a fun time.
7. What happens when Mike wakes up? How does this concern the Losers?
It had planned to kill Mike using an orderly. Well, Mike wakes up, remembers everything and he's about to call for someone when an orderly shows up. it's the brother of a kid who was killed by It when the Losers were children. So he appears looking kind of dazed and he has a syringe. Well Bill, all the way down in the sewers, ~feels this. So he tells the others to gather hands with him and they send their energy to Mike. It ends up helping though because Mike picks up a glass and smashing it on the guy who then comes out of his ~trance or whatever and doesn't kill Mike.
8. What is the final shape of It? What did Stan realize about It when they were kids?
It's not necessarily the ~final shape since Bill believes that it's the closest their minds can come to what It really is since they can't actually process the final shape. He can kind of see the deadlights though and it just looks like pure, endless, blinding orange light. But, anyway, when they find It, It is a giant spider. It's fifteen feet high with legs as thick as a body builder and giant ruby eyes. It also has a stinger long enough to impale a man. And It is also pregnant. That's what Stan realized back then and why he knew they would have to face It again. Because It is female and It is pregnant. Cool.
Section Nine Reading Journal
I am so glad there’s only one section left in this book because I am so sick of reading it. I literally have to force myself to pick this book up and make it through another hundred pages. I’m honestly sorry I picked it. Well, I am and I’m not. Because this is the only way I ever would’ve read it. So I’m glad to get it ~out of the way. But I’m also sick of reading it and I’m so sorry I put all of you through this as well!
So this was yET ANOTHER section that was entirely filler???? Do they finally face off against Pennywise? No. Of course they don’t. It isn’t even in this section until THE LAST PAGE. It baffles me that people say Stephen King writes the scariest books of all time. His villain isn’t even in most of this book. Out of 1000 pages, I wouldn’t even guess that It appears in 500 of them. How is that supposed to scare anyone????
I am just so beyond frustrated with this book. Because I really love the idea of this book. And looking at all the gifs, it looks like the movies clean up the problems. I found a TON of Pennywise gifs meaning the movie probably actually has a lot of Pennywise. Which is WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH HORROR. And it also looks like there’s a lot of stuff in the movies that isn’t in the book. So they probably took all of the repetitive nonsense out and replaced it with actual content. Which would’ve been great for this book.
So I guess this is it. This is what I’ve been looking for. This is the book that’s the turning point when I stopped actually being able to tolerate Stephen King’s books. Because the ones I’ve read that he wrote before this one were alright. I definitely had some problems with some of them but nothing like this. And they all weren’t unnecessarily long (though I’ve only read the shorter ones). And then this one was hailed as a masterpiece and he discovered he could write shit and get away with it???? Is that what happened.
Okay I’m going to stop ranting now. I’ll just say that the last section better be absolutely ACTION PACKED to make up for suffering through the rest of this book. Though, at this point, I’m almost ready for him to pull a Dracula and just kill off It already. That’s how much I’m sick of all this buildup. Just do it already and stop talking about it. God.
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Harry Potter & ‘IT’ Crossover- Chapter 1
Hello! Okay, so I really hope I don’t get any hate for this crossover, but I saw this tweet saying that Pennywise the Clown is a type of boggart, and then my imagination spiraled. I love Remus Lupin so much and just wanted to see how he would cope as a muggle teacher in the small town Derry. Enjoy! (P.S. I’m still working on my writing so please no hate)
Ben quietly walked into the classroom, already flooded with students his age, and sat down in one of the seats in in the second row from the back. Richie and Bill soon sat beside him on his right while Eddie was a row in front of him sitting next to Stan on Eddie’s left. Ben pulled out the book of Derry’s History he got from the library the other day from his backpack beside him and returned to where he left off. He had just finished the page discussing the murders that happened back in the 1950’s.
“Found a-anything yet?” Bill asked, turning towards him.
“Nothing unusual than the others, but we must be getting close to something.” Ben exclaimed to the group.
“Okay, class, settle down...” A posh voice spoke from the front of the class. They turned their attention to the doorway of the classroom, where Mrs Douglas stood. She was the vice principle of the school and always stayed in her office in the teachers’ lounge, unless a new student or teacher has arrived and will be attending the school. Most of the students either didn’t like her due to her strict manners policy and poshness or didn’t know her enough to care. Her short brown hair was always in curls and if she wasn’t in her office, people would normally see her in a vomit green sweater.
“Due to unfortunate events, your previous English teacher had be removed from her position at the school.” Groans and awes filled the classroom, but Mrs Douglas hushed them down quickly before they could complain any longer.
“I wonder what happened to Ms Kai. I bet she did dope drugs or something.” Richie muttered before Stan gave him a slap on the arm, shutting him up.
“Because this has happened, you will be given a substitute English teacher until the end of the year. May I introduce you; Professor Lupin.” Once she said that proudly, a tall lean man carrying a leather briefcase appeared from the corner of the door. He wore a scruffy brown coat with matching pants over a grey collared shirt with a dark grey tie, which the students found odd and slightly weird compared to the other teachers in the school. His copper brown hair was neatly combed to the sides of his head, but one thing they noticed was the two pink scar lines crossing over his face.
“Thank you, Mrs Douglas.” He said politely with a small smile. She blushed and smiled back, a flirtatious glint in her eyes that made the club want to throw up.
“Well, I will leave you here then. And remember children, I want you to be on your best behavior for Professor Lupin, understand?” The class gave a nod in agreement before Mrs Douglas disappeared from the room, leaving Professor Lupin and the class alone in silence.
“Well, good morning students.” Professor Lupin said. He walked to the front of the class and grabbed the chalk lying in the little pot under the chalk board and began writing. “My name is Remus Lupin, but you shall call me Professor Lupin.” The class noticed the words ‘Remus Lupin’ had been scribbled on the board in white chalk. Then he swiftly grabbed the clipboard from the desk and said “Now this lesson, we will not focus on schoolwork, yet I would like to know more about you and how you operated in your previous class.” Some of the classmates whispered to each other, some excited and others confused. “When I call out your name, you will tell me what your favorite color, you favorite animal, something you personally like to either do or see and can ask me one question about me, and if get your name wrong or if you have a preferred name for yourself, you are free to tell me. Understood?” The class once again nodded in unison.
“Okay, uhh... William Denbrough?” He asked, searching through the rows of students to find a young boy slowly raising his hand nervously. He was quite skinny for a boy and his dark brown hair flopped against his forehead.
“I-I’m here, and I prefer for you t-to call me Bill. My f-favourite colour is g-green, I like dogs and m-my favourite thing to do is go to the a-arcade.” He stuttered awkwardly. Professor Lupin just smiled at him in fascination, not in a creepy way but was strange. “Um, where are you f-from?”
“For most of my life I lived in Yorkshire, England with a few friends of mine before moving here to America. Let’s see...Hunter Snell?” He continued calling out the names of the students in the class and were also asked questions like how old he was (Which he replied that he was thirty six). Some of the questions were simple, like if he had a pet what would it be or what his favourite animal (Very original, Richie.) Others were personal and complex, like when Eddie asked what job he did before and what school he went to.
“I went to a quiet boarding school in Ireland from the age of eleven to eighteen, then for quite a long time I went through a rough time due to a condition I had. But once it was cured, one of my teachers from that same school who became Headmaster offered me a job as a teacher.” Professor Lupin replied. He looked back down at the sheet and exclaimed “And lastly: Greta Keene.
A young girl with blonde wavy hair and green eyes snapped her attention to the teacher and spoke in a giddy voice “My favourite colour is pastel purple, favourite animal would either have to be a poodle or dolphin and I love going to the mall with my friends.” Giggles from her and her friends echoed around the room. They looked at Professor Lupin again and a confused yet silent expression on his face, lost at awkward words.
“Well, that- that- that is exciting, yes!” He declared nervously.
“And my question is: Are you single?” As the words left her mouth, a forced laugh came from Lupin.
“No, I’ve got a beautiful wife named Tonks back home and an unborn first child on the way, sorry.” He reassured halfheartedly. Some awes filled the air, either sad that he was taken or happy that he was going to have a child of his own. “Okay, have we got everyone? Good, now let’s get on with t-” He was suddenly cut off by a loud ringing of bells from the speaker, making him jump. Too stunned on what to do and how to react, the class packed up their things and headed to the door. A few seconds later Remus found himself just standing there in a lonely room.
“Huh, fascinating...” He mumbled to himself, staring at the speaker on the ceiling in curiosity. For a few moments, He stared at were the students sat, which were now empty seats. It was so much more different than Hogwarts, so much... simpler. If these children were having classes at Hogwarts, they would learn how to defend themselves or each other, but in normal muggle schools they are learnt to use unnecessary techniques for up-coming life, like ‘History’ or ‘Math’. He had come to realise that even though they are taught these lessons, most of them wouldn’t need them later on in life, unlike the Wizarding World.
I know, horrible ending. But it was better than nothing, sorry. Please share and like this because I have literally been thinking about this story for the past three weeks and I am so excited for the next few chapters when shit gets slightly... magical.
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Just got back from IT.
I wanted to write out a longer post of my thoughts than I could on Twitter without spoiling everyone, so here we go.
First off, how’s Bill Skargard’s Pennywise? It is very good. I was dwelling on it on the way home and I think comparing his performance to Tim Curry’s isn’t fair. Tim Curry is a scenery-chewer, brash and big. (That’s not an insult or anything. I could watch him do his thing all goddamn day.) And that was what his Pennywise was. It was the best thing to come out of an otherwise flawed miniseries. Skargard has the good fortune of being in a better version -- I mean, the special effects and makeup alone -- but he also does a Pennywise that’s just as creepy, if in a less showy way. Skarsgard isn’t chewing the scenery in front of you. You just end up turning around at the end of the moment you’ve seen him and ... whoa, hey, where did the walls and the furniture go? They’re both good performances, just different ones.
The kid actors are all terrific in their roles, although I do have a few favorites. For starters, the best is the girl who plays Beverly. The entire movie could have been about her fighting the monster (or monsters, such as it is) and it would have been incredible. Every beat she takes is fantastic. In the bathroom scene, her horrified face is just haunting. The kid playing Bill has to carry a lot of scenes, and he’s really great. The kid who plays Ben is also kind of adorable. I spent a lot of his scenes wanting to wrap him in a great big hug. Finn Wolfhard, who’s one of the kids on Stranger Things, is totally Richie. The thing about Richie is, he’s an annoying little shit a lot of the time, except for when he’s your friend, in which case he’s an annoying little shit who also hangs out with you all the time. But he delivers a lot of the comedic lines (understandably) and nails them all really well. I liked the others as well, but those were my standouts.
My one major problem with the movie is that Mike’s “superpower” of being the Derry research person is basically handed over to Ben. That’s not saying that Ben’s architecture knowledge gets tossed or traded. He doesn’t get to build the dam that floods the Barrens -- that scene isn’t in here -- but he’s shown at the beginning with a model of a building we see Bill ride past on his bike later. So clearly he’s still interested in architecture. But instead of him just hiding out in the library, he also does research on Derry while he’s in there. Which ... okay, kid after my own heart, he’s got tons of printouts and the tragedies that have happened in Derry and his bedroom looks like mine when I’m researching a podcast, but that’s supposed to be Mike’s thing. Which means Mike is out of doing what he was in the book. Which leads me to my next thought ...
I couldn’t help but think about if they were going to change anything in regards to the character’s professions in the second movie. Clearly they still give hints Ben will be an architect. But if he gets all the research stuff Mike did in the books, why would this Mike become the local librarian and historian? I also think they may be planning to change Bev’s profession from a fashion designer (maybe they realized just how tough fashion is after watching Project Runway one too many times?) to a musician. She plays the keyboard, she has a Siouxsie and the Banshees poster ... I mean, it’s not much, but it’s more than any sort of art or fashion interest she shows. I also wondered about Richie, since famous funny deejay is probably past its prime. The miniseries made him a stand-up comedian, but ... I don’t know, maybe the next one gives him a sitcom?
One thing I couldn’t stop doing is fancasting the adult versions of all the characters, even the ones I knew wouldn’t make it. Annoyingly/sadly, I couldn’t stop thinking of dead actors who’d be perfect for the roles. Like, the kid who plays Stan? Looks like a dead ringer for a tiny Anton Yelchin. I mean, poor Anton would have been too young to play forty, God knows, but still. Also, the actor who played Henry Bowers looks a LOT a young River Phoenix. And you know who would have been old enough to play the older version of the character he played in the miniseries if he were still alive? Jonathan Brandis. (The kid also looks a little like him, so ... bonus.)
I still think Jason Ritter would make an excellent adult Ben, by the way. It’d be a nice throwback to his dad playing Ben, he’s the right age, and he’s really great.
I like that they updated the fears of a couple of the Losers, especially Richie. And I love that they made it clowns. One of these kids needed to be afraid of clowns, and Richie’s fear being the werewolf could easily be changed. It also makes a little sense on some level, that Richie’s fear would be something that’s supposed to be funny being warped into something scary.
No, there is no child orgy scene. Thank God.
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GATHER ‘ROUND CHILDREN WHILE I HYPER-ANALYZE EVERY LITTLE THING IN THE IT (2017) TRAILER
1. First of all, Bill doesn’t stutter at all during the trailer. Now, i know in the book he stutters a lot less around his friends and his little brother, and there’s only him saying the one thing at the beginning to his brother and in the middle when he’s talking about the sewers, but i just hope they keep it intact cause it’s actually semi-important to the plot
2. You can see GULF WAX on the table of shit Bill is building the paper boat out of, not much to see here, it’s just what he waterproofs the boat he gives Georgie with BUT it’s just really nice how much attention to detail they’re clearly putting into this
3. The brothers have a tender moment after Bill makes Georgie the boat, which one of the things the miniseries didn’t make super clear but it’s almost bizarrely tender like they’re saying goodbye like they both on some level know they’re never gonna see each other again and that looks to be the same here
4. The street names and sawhorses with DERRY PUBLIC WORKS on them are another cool little detail reference to the novel
5. The bit where Pennywise pops up is very interesting to me because okay bear with me here he has blue eyes in that shot, right? Just Bill Skarsgard’s natural eye color i’m assuming. Later when Pennywise jump-scares the fuckitty shit out of Bill in the basement (more on that in a second) his eyes are a weird spooky yellow-green color and in most promo images his eyes are just straight-up yellow. This is significant just because, and idk if they put this much thought into it, but in the book when Pennywise first pops up in the storm drain he has yellow eyes and when Georgie looks again they’re blue, specifically the same shade of blue eyes that his mom and brother have. It’s implied to be a deliberate ploy on Pennywise’s part to gain Georgie’s trust. Anyway, that’d be cool if that made it into the movie.
6. The big sweeping shot of Derry is nice, we can clearly see the canal off to the right side of the screen which is important to a lot of the action, being where Ben first sees Pennywise and where minor character Eddie Corcoran meets his death by Creature from the Black Lagoon (Eddie’s little brother Dorsey was brutally killed by their abusive stepfather, an act of violence which starts Its feeding cycle, of which Georgie is the first victim and Eddie is one of the last; more on Its life-cycle momentarily)
7. The boy on the missing poster, Patrick Hockstetter, is a fairly minor character from the book, a creepy sociopath who believes he’s the only real thing in existence and other things exist solely for his amusement. He killed his baby brother when he was 5, tortures animals to death for fun and keeps their corpses in a fridge, and barely registers fear or even physical pain. He does, however, have a deep revulsion of leeches (relatable tbh) and Pennywise sends like an appendage of Itself in the form of a swarm of leeches with fly wings and mosquito suckers, flesh-colored leeches by the way that turn pink and then dark red as they suck your blood isn’t that lovely, to hide in his animal fridge and exsanguinate him before the main part of It shows up to drag him off and eat him. Interestingly, Pennywise, since Patrick doesn’t really fear anything, seems to be unable to decide what form to adopt when It takes him, and appears as a sort of running, melting wax type of figure a scene which is scary as fuck and i really hope makes it into the movie in some way, particularly since that’s really the only reason to include Patrick Hockstetter at all and we already know he’ll be making a physical appearance in the film since someone’s been cast as him.
8. Ben in the library, probably writing the poem that he later gives to Bev. Oddly enough, I don’t think Pennywise actually appears to him in the book during this part, so it’ll be interesting to see how much he makes his presence known. Is it just gonna be the balloon or will he pop out in Dracula form like he does when Ben re-visits the library as an adult? WHO KNOWS
9. When Eddie Kaspbrak finishes Bill’s thought “....clown. Yeah, I saw him too.”, it flashes to him outside the infamous 29 Neibolt Street. This is of course where a syphilitic homeless man propositions Eddie for oral sex and Pennywise later takes the form of the same man in a clown suit, the disease advanced to the point that it can be more accurately described as leprosy. Later in the trailer (right after THIS SEPTEMBER) we get a microsecond-long flash of what appears to be Eddie running away from the Leper, shot in such a way that you can’t really see him, but production shots of him exist and it’s confirmed that Javier Botet (Mama, Crimson Peak) will be playing him, so that should be an amazing scene i’m already calling it as being one of the most iconic of the film
10. Now for the real show-stopper, the slide-show bit. Now, besides the obvious, the timeline of the movie has been moved up such that these kids aren’t kids in the ‘50s, but rather the ‘80s, right around the time IT was actually released. The slideshow freaking out appears to be a technologically updated version of/at least a scene analogous to the old picture book from Mike Hanlon’s father coming to life (the projector does appear to be Mike’s,as he’s the one who immediately starts inspecting it when it starts doing its thing)
11. Henry Bowers and the red balloon. This i believe is the part in the book, based on where the shot is set up, it looks like a front yard or something, where Bowers finds a balloon tied to his mailbox and a package inside from “Bob Gray” (another common alias of It, along with Pennywise) containing the switchblade he uses to murder his abusive father (what is it with King and parents who are fucking jackasses?) and attempt to kill the Losers in the sewers.
12. This appears to be the climactic encounter with Pennywise in the House on 29 Neibolt Street. If you watch, you can actually see Pennywise’s fingers growing out of the clown gloves and morphing into werewolf claws, which is really cool because their plan hinges on trapping It in werewolf form so they can shoot It with silver, but It initially appears to them as amorphous (It usually does when It appears to multiple people at once until one of them, i’m guessing whoever has the strongest concrete fear, says what It is and then It settles into that form) until Richie ,who had previously seen It as a werewolf in the same house, screams out “It’s the werewolf! The teenage werewolf!” so this is probably right after that
13. One of my favorite shots from the trailer because if it’s what i think it is, it indicates some BRILLIANT adaptation-work on Andres Muschietti’s part. Basically, in the book, there are a lot of “interludes”, little bits and pieces of Derry’s troubled history that are inserted into the story to help explain Its life-cycle and would be, in the form they are in the novel, basically unfilmable. It just wouldn’t work pacing-wise and would serve only to confuse the audience. One of said interludes is the fire at the Black Spot, an integrated but mostly-Black club where Mike Hanlon’s father worked that was burnt to the ground by a white supremacist group with people trapped inside. Pennywise, in the form of a giant bird with balloons tied to Its wings, is present and is temporarily sated by this display. (a massacre or otherwise hideous act of violence has to be committed to wake It up, and another must be committed to put it back into hibernation. It’s usually active for about a year before going back into hibernation for about 27). The firelight and burnt hands/door seem to imply that Muschietti has worked this interlude in by having Pennywise taunting Mike Hanlon with a vision of the people who died in the arson/massacre which is BRILLIANT.
14. The sink scene. Of course, the shit coming out of the sink has been ratcheted up a LOT from the miniseries, but is actually fairly close to the book where it first coughs up a single bubble of blood and then belches forth a geyser, coating Bev and the entire bathroom, as well as her father who can’t see it. My only gripe is the blood seems to have been replaced with a black liquid of some kind? I hope that’s just for the trailer and it’ll be red in the movie, cause it just doesn’t have the same traumatic appeal as everything and yourself and your dad being covered in blood and him not being able to see it
15. Pennywise partially obscuring his face with a balloon is something he does at least once in the book to indicate that he’s about to change forms, as the Mummy on the ice that Ben sees. Now this appears to be in front of 29 Neibolt Street, so i don’t think it’s Ben, but probably as he’s about to transform into the Leper for Eddie. But that’s just my guess
16. The final scene. The basement. Now this is a scene that isn’t in the book at all, there’s a similar one towards the end but it’s in Its lair and the rest of the losers are there so i don’t think it’s that. Anyway, even though there’s no way of knowing what basement this is, it’s possible that it’s actually in the Denbrough bothers’ house because, going all the way back to the first part of this post, Georgie so remember that whole bit where he goes into the basement to get the GULF wax, that’s the only part of the book from his POV and he talks about how he’s terrified the whole time of a monster being in the basement, and it’s mentioned that it’s flooded from all the rain Derry’s gotten recently. I’m not sure where this scene would fit in, chronology-wise, but i’m willing to bet it’d be some kind of ironic echo of Georgie’s earlier sentiments or a replacement for Georgie’s scene entirely where Bill is the one who has to go down into the basement and face his fears instead. It also might occur instead of/along with Georgie’s school picture coming to life, but once again this is all pure speculation i have no basis for this other than the location
ANYWAY THAT’S ABOUT ALL FOR NOW wow sorry that was super long i really needed to get that out of my system i’m done now i’ll have mercy and put this under a read more
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