Chapter Text
Eddie Kaspbrak had just found out his mom had been feeding him “gazebos” his entire life, and this new giant of a realization made Eddie more brave than he’d ever been in his life.
After a screaming match that had lasted for hours, Eddie had stormed out of the house, yelling over his mother’s tears that he was going to Richie’s house. He hadn’t actually been planning that, but he was well aware that Sonia hated Richie far more than the rest of his friends.
Eddie biked to Richies house in a rage-fueled daze. He knew his mother couldn’t see him now, but he could hear Richies parents shouting inside, and at that moment he wanted to do anything he could to spite his mother, so he climbed up the tree next to the house and knocked on Richie’s window. If Eddie hadn’t been so pissed off, he might have laughed when Richies eyes widened and he flinched so hard he fell off his bed.
Richie scrambled up and rushed to meet Eddie at the window. “Jesus Eds, you scared the shit out of me! Isn’t this a little backward? What, you just missed me too much to wait till morning?”
Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed, adjusting his grip on the tree branch. He spoke to Richie through gritted teeth. “No, asshole. Can I come in or what?”
Richie bit his lip, glancing behind him at his bedroom door. He sighed heavily before giving Eddie a small, apologetic smile and shaking his head. “Not tonight. If you can make it back down the tree, I’ll follow you. We can go for a walk in the moonlight, Spaghetti, doesn’t that sound romantic?”
Eddie refused to acknowledge Richie’s attempt at lightening the mood and instead began his descent. Richie stood in the window and watched Eddie with concern until Eddie looked back up at him.
“Hey, dipshit, are you coming or not?” Eddie whisper-yelled. Richie gave him a wide grin and began to follow him down.
Once they were both on the ground, the two of them walked in silence for a few minutes before Richie glanced at Eddie nervously, attention drawn to the smaller boys clenched jaw and tense shoulders. “Eds my dear, what seems to be the trouble?” Richie pitches in an awful British accent, and Eddie just stops walking. Richie looks at him curiously.
“My pills are fake,” Eddie gritted out. Richie looked at him blankly, waiting for him to continue. “My fucking mother has been forcing me to take pills I didn’t need, telling me I’m weak and fragile my entire life and I had no idea. Why the fuck would she do something like that Rich?” Richie could only stare at him with wide eyes, wanting to reach out and comfort him but knowing that in the moment it would only make things worse.
Eddie was still going. “Do you know how much shit I could have been doing this whole time if my mother wasn’t a legitimate psychopath? She’s kept everything from me, Richie! She had no right to do that and I hate her I hate her I hate her!”
Richie finally reached out and grabbed Eddies wrist. “Eddie, breathe.” The use of his real name in Richies voice had Eddie whipping his head to glare at Richie wildly, and Richies heart broke at the anger, pain, and frustration in Eddies eyes.
“Look, Eddie,” Richie began softly. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve this, you know? I’m so sorry your mom is the way she is and that you’ve had to deal with her your whole life. But think of it this way: you have all of the power now. Now that you know, you’re free - you make your choices and be who you want to be. Hell, if I were you, I’d do anything I could to piss her off as much as possible, just because you can.”
Eddie stared up at Richie in awe, the pain and anger in eyes settling into a look of determination as Richie went on. He nodded once before beginning to walk in the direction of his house, Richie trailing behind him.
They walked the next few blocks in silence before coming to a stop in Eddies front yard. Eddie turned to Richie silently, and Richie’s heart beat double time in his chest. “Thanks for everything tonight, Rich. I really appreciate it.”
Richie uttered a small, nervous laugh. “No problem, you know I’ll always be here for my Eddie Spaghetti.”
Eddie rolled his eyes before glancing at his house, where he noticed his mother standing at her bedroom window, glaring at them silently. Eddie turned back to Richie, the lanky boys words replaying in his mind. I’d do anything I could to piss her off as much as possible.
So Eddie looked at Richie for another second before bouncing up on his toes and kissing Richie as hard as he could.
Richie’s entire body froze before Eddie reached up and tugged on one of Richies curls, forcing him to react. Richie allowed himself to melt for approximately two seconds before pulling away hesitantly. He eyed Eddie cautiously, feeling ridiculously vulnerable.
“Um... Eds, I-,” he began, but was promptly cut off as Eddie turned and practically sprinted up to his front door.
“Thanks again for tonight Rich, see you tomorrow!” Eddie called before shutting the door behind him.
Richie stood there in the grass, dumbfounded and love struck, before pulling his phone out and making a call. When the other person picked up, Richie didn’t even give him a chance to say hello.
“Stan, I’m coming over, I’ll see you in two minutes.”
——————-
“He fucking WHAT?!”
Richie thought maybe he should be a little offended that Stan didn’t believe Eddie would kiss him, but his brain was still so high up he couldn’t bring himself to stop smiling.
”I know, that was my reaction too!” Richie giggled breathlessly. “I can’t believe this Stan, I’ve been waiting for this for so fucking long and it finally happened! I can’t believe he feels the same way!”
Stan gave Richie a hesitant, barely-there smile and asked warily, “What did he say afterwards?”
Richie shrugged his shoulders, still smiling a mile wide. “He didn’t stay anything, Manly Stanly, why?”
Stan’s tiny smile was abruptly replaced with a frown. “Dammit Richie, you need to talk about these things!” Richie’s grin froze on his face. “You don’t know how he actually feels about it, or you, for that matter! I know you’re excited, and you know I want you to be happy, but you still need to have that conversation with him.”
Richie was staring at Stan with his eyebrows furrowed. “Jesus, Stanley, fine. I’ll talk to him at school in the morning, okay? You can be a real buzzkill sometimes, ya know that?”
Stan reached over and shoved Richie’s shoulder, smiling at him fondly. “You know I’m just trying to look out for you, Rich. Someone’s gotta do it.”
Richie frowned briefly, the beginning of his evening replaying in his head. He quickly pasted a shit-eating grin on his face, turning back to Stan. “Thanks for taking care of me Daddy, you’re the best! Can I sleep in your bed with you tonight, Daddy?”
Stan shoved Richie off the bed. “Don’t fucking call me that, asshole. Disgusting. Yeah, you can stay here if you need to, you know I don’t care, but if you call me Daddy one more time, you’re sleeping on the floor.”
Richie laughed as he flopped down onto the bed next to Stan, and that night he dreamt of he and Eddie walking hand-in-hand through the school.
——————-
Richie didn’t have a single class with Eddie in the morning, so he spent the first half of the day practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation. He could picture the entire conversation he was about to have, and every situation he imagined ended nothing short of positively.
When Richie finally got to lunch, he immediately plopped himself down next to Eddie, sitting way closer than he really needed to. Eddie didn’t even acknowledge him, too engrossed in his conversation with Bill to give Richie a glance. Richie looked to Stan, who gave Richie a look that said, “It’s now or never.”
Richie drew in a deep breath and tapped Eddie on the shoulder. Eddie didn’t turn around. “Eds,” Richie asked quietly. Eddie still didn’t turn around. Richie sighed. “Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, Light of My Life, E-,” Eddie turned around suddenly, and Richie grinned when he realized their faces were only about two inches apart.
”What the fuck do you want, Trashmouth?” Eddie demanded. Richie was a little hurt by the rude welcoming, and what minimal brain filter he had normally disappeared completely.
“Last night you stuck your tongue down my throat, and now I’m not allowed to talk to you? My, Eds, what a gentleman you are.”
Ben choked on his drink.
Mike patted him on the back, glancing between Richie and Eddie confusedly.
Bev seemed torn between laughing and looking offended that she was not told sooner.
Bill couldn't even get out a question, between his stutter and confusion.
Stan was watching the situation intently, unsure and a little concerned.
And Eddie... Eddie was laughing. Way harder than he ever had at any of Richies jokes.
Bev was the first one to find her voice.
“I’m sorry,” she uttered with a confused laugh. “What the fuck did we miss?”
Eddie turned to her and could hardly speak between his howls of laughter.
“Oh, my god, Bev, you’re not gonna believe this! Last night, I kissed Richie in front of my mom to piss her off!”
Eddie dissolved into laughter again, and after a second of shock the other losers joined him, all of them except for Richie and Stan. Richie’s heart had dropped to his stomach. He sat there, stunned. His friends were laughing at him. Normally he’d kill for that, for them to find him this funny, but he felt like he just been stabbed in the heart and he felt sick and he couldn’t breathe.
I gotta go,” he muttered, all but sprinting out of the cafeteria. Stan followed behind him soon after, and the rest of the losers continued to laugh, not acknowledging their friends’ departure.
Richie quickly found himself in the most remote bathroom, leaning heavily on a sink and trying not to hyperventilate. Tears were threatening to pour from his eyes without his permission and he felt like he was about to lose all of the blueberry pancakes Stan had made them for breakfast.
Richie couldn’t even look at his best friend as the boy rounded the corner of the bathroom quickly before stopping to assess the situation.
The two stood in silence for a few tense seconds before Stan took a small step forward. “Richie...” Stan murmured. And that was all it took.
Richie whirled around and dropped to his knees in the bathroom stall, heaving into the toilet. Stan was at his side in an instant, rubbing his back with one hand and pulling Richie’s glasses off with the other.
The two stayed like this until Richie’s body began to convulse with sobs instead of dry heaves. Stan tugged Richie into his lap, carding a hand through the crying boys hair as Richie tried to speak through his tears.
”Why the fuck would he do that, Stan?” Richie choked out before another harsh sob shook his body. “Why would he- I thought- he-,” Richie’s breathing continued to pick up and Stan held Richie tightly, having experienced enough of Richie’s panic attacks to know that physical contact was the best way to calm him down. Stan grabbed Richie’s hand, holding it to his chest.
”Richie?” Stan murmured. “Richie, listen to me, I know this hurts, but I need you to try and breathe for me, Rich, do you think you can do that? Can you feel my heartbeat under your hand?” Stan almost panicked himself when the sobbing boy shook his head no, before remembering how Richie had once described his panic attacks.
“It feels like my body’s broken into pieces,” Richie had explained. “I know I’m physically all in one piece, but I can’t feel any part of my body. It’s like parts of me just...aren’t there.”
So Stan decided to try another tactic, guiding Richie’s head down to rest on his chest, ear pressed up against Stan’s heart. “How about this, Rich? Can you feel that? Do you think you could please try to copy my breathing now?”
Richie didn’t respond, but after a few seconds Stan felt Richie attempting to breathe purposefully. He gripped Richie’s hand tightly, offering what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
”That’s it, Rich, you’re doing great,” Stanley whispered to him after a minute. Another minute later, Richie’s breathing was set at an almost normal pace, the only abnormalities the shakiness of his breaths and the occasional hiccups caused by the tears that refused to stop falling.
The two stayed like that for what felt like hours, Richie clinging to Stan and Stan holding him as tightly as he could. At one point, Richie had inhaled shakily and looked up at Stan with tear-filled eyes.
”It hurts, Stan,” was all he whimpered before burying his face back in his best friends chest.
Stan knew better than to offer some meaningless platitude or something like, “I know, Rich,” because Stan didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine how Eddie could do something like that to the broken boy curled up in his lap, and he most definitely didn’t know how Richie must be feeling right then. So Stan just held his best friend tighter and let him cry his broken heart out.