Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Richie, come on. Hurry up! You’re due to go on stage in like 15 minutes!” Eddie was standing in the door way of the dressing room watching his husband polish his glasses.

“I know, I know. Give me a second!” the man said, standing up and shoving his glasses over his nose. “Can’t tell my jokes if I can’t see the TelePrompTer.”

“They aren’t YOUR jokes, Rich,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“You’re right of course, mine are much better!” Richie exclaimed, grabbing his husband’s shoulder and reaching his other hand over to ruffle his hair.

“Jeez, quit it!” Eddie growled, but couldn’t help laughing at the same time.

“Not with that cute giggle of yours,” Richie smiled, his mission accomplished.

RING RING.

“Eddie, is that you?” Richie asked, cocking an eyebrow. Nobody called Eddie while he was at work, ever. He pulled his phone out and glared at the screen.

“Um, yeah. It says-” Eddie froze, frowning.

“Eds?”

“It says its from Derry...” Eddie muttered, confused.

“Derry? Derry, Maine?!” Richie screeched, forgetting where they were at the moment and that he shouldn’t be yelling.

“Calm down, Richie. I...should I answer it?” Eddie asked, subconsciously leaning into his husband. Everything in Richie’s being told him to say no. He didn’t know why, but the name “Derry” made his knees start to shake, as if a distant scream was going off in his memory. The scream sounded...like Eddie. Before Richie could answer, Eddie found himself pushing answer anyways.

“Hello?” he said, trying to steady his voice.

“Who is it?” Richie whispered, straining to hear the small voice from the speaker. Eddie ignored him.

“Mike who?”

Richie scanned his memory for the name Mike but nothing turned up. Mike from Derry? Again, Richie could hear the distant screaming going off in his head. But he noticed Eddie was starting to breathe heavy and was reaching for his pocket where he used to keep his inhaler. He hadn’t used it in years...

“I...don’t know,” Eddie chuckled, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. Richie reached out and grabbed his husbands hand, still trying to listen. “I’m...Mike. I don’t know I can’t remember...”

Richie was getting annoyed with not knowing what was being said but the fear pounding in his heart made him keep his big mouth shut.

“Fine. Fine I’ll be there. I...I’ll be there.” And then he shoved the phone in his pocket and heaved a huge sigh.

“...Eddie?” Richie muttered and suddenly Eddie snapped his head up as if just remembering Richie was there. And then he launched himself into his husbands arms, throwing both arms around Richie’s neck. “Oh! Um, Eddie what happened? What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“It was Mike...Mike Hanlon.”

“Hanlon? I don’t...” Richie started to say but before he could finish the sentence, memories sprang into his brain. Mike. Friends from school. The school he met Eddie at. And a...club? “Mike. Oh yeah. What did he want?”

BRING BRINNGGG

Before Eddie could answer, Richie’s phone went off. But all Richie could hear was the screaming in his head. He knew what his phone would say before he pulled it out. Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Don’t answer.

“Hello?” he said, his finger moving on its own and accepting the call despite his internal screaming.

“Richie. Richie Tozier is that you?” a familiar and yet unfamiliar voice asked. Richie glanced over at his husband who was still grasping him weakly and looking up at him.

“Um yes. Who is calling?” Richie said, keeping his voice steady and strong. He’d always been the stronger one in their relationship and he needed to continue.

“It’s Mike Hanlon. From Derry. Do you remember?” the voice said, becoming more and more familiar as he spoke.

“Of course. Yes of course! Hey Mikey! How’s it going?” Richie was doing the same thing he always did, masking his fear with overexcitedness and attempts at humor.

“Richie. It’s back.”

The scream in his head got even louder, practically drowning out everything else except the beat of his heart. Flashes of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing someone close to him. Fear of death.

“Richie can you hear me? Can you get back here? We need you,” Mike continued speaking. It sounded like ringing in Richie’s ears and he was suddenly aware of how heavy his stomach felt. In fact...

“Y-yeah I’m here! Yeah of course I’ll be there Mike. I’ll be there ASAP. Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” Richie shoved Eddie out of his arms, something he never did, and rushed out the door of his dressing room. He was stumbling over his words as he spoke too quickly. But he hoped Mike heard him as he slammed the button to end the call and he stumbled down the hall, unaware of Eddie following him. The bathroom was too far away. Too far. Instead he shoved open the door to the outside and rushed to the edge of the fire escape, heaving. Half a second later he was heaving up today’s lunch and throwing it out onto the alley way below.

“Richie!! Richie!!” Eddie screamed, following close behind. When he reached his husband, he quickly began to soothingly rub his back, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pre-packaged set of aspirin that he always kept there. Richie might've convinced him to leave his inhaler in a drawer next to the bed, but he always had some sort of medicine with him.

“I-I’m fine, Eds. I’m fine. It was just my stomach. I’m fine now. It’s cool. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Richie you’re repeating yourself. You’re not fine. Let’s go back in and get you some water,” Eddie insisted, his worry clear on his face. He was never as good at hiding things as Richie was. But Richie ignored Eddie’s suggestion, instead grabbing his wrists so Eddie was forced to stare at him.

“Did he say the same thing to you that he said to me?” he asked, trying to stop the shaking.

“You’re being so serious, Rich. This isn’t like you,” Eddie sighed, clearly worried about his husband. “But yeah, probably.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.

“I feel like...we have to go, Rich.”

“RICHIE TOZIER YOU’RE ON IN 2!” a voice called over a loud speaker. Eddie’s eyes widened.

“SHIT! The show! You can’t do the show now!” Eddie exclaimed, now stuck between husband mode and manager mode.

“I can. I told you I’m fine, but we’ll talk about this when we get home ok,” Richie sighed, dropping Eddie’s hands so he could take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go.”

“Richie! You don’t have to go on right now. We’re both kind of freaking out right now,” Eddie muttered. Richie turned back to him and pulled him inside the building towards the stage. His eyebrows were furrowed as he spoke in a hushed tone and lead his husband forward.

“But why, Eds? Why are we freaking out? There’s nothing to be freaking out about, right? It’s all good. It’s cool. We’re fine.” He opened a door thinking it was the stage door and immediately an alarm buzzed.

“That’s an emergency exit, Rich,” Eddie muttered, shoving the aspirin into Richie’s hand. “You’re not in the right state of mind for this.”

“I was just testing you! It was a joke! Haha! Beep beep, Richie!”

“Richie Tozier, you’re on!” the stage manager called down the hall. Richie and Eddie picked up the pace, racing towards the door.

“Please, Richie! Take a minute to think about this!” Eddie tried, but Richie let go of his hand, shoved the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry, then ran out onto the stage waving to the crowd and ignoring the protests of his husband. He grabbed the mic stand in front of him and made a show of adjusting it.

“Hello everyone! You know, just the other day I was...I was walking down the street and you know my mom called...she called and said...she said...called me...”

Richie started faltering almost instantly. The screaming was back in his head and all he could think was It’s back. It's back. It's back. His mom hadn’t called it was Mike and It’s back. It’s back, Trashmouth.

“Trashmouth.” He had said it out-loud. Richie froze, eyes wide. He had said that OUT-LOUD.

“Richiiie!” Eddie hissed from the side of the stage, hitting his forehead with his palm.

“Ah! Sorry folks! Thats not how the joke goes. I seem to have forgotten the...the punchline.”

Slowly a few snickers and some boos echoed through out the audience.

“Shit guys, sorry,” Richie said, a smile planted on his face to hide his embarrassment. He always smiled to hide things. It’s what he did.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Eddie and Richie sat at the dinner table, neither really saying a word. The sounds of the forks scraping the plate were too loud and Eddie felt like he was drowning in the silence. Richie was never quiet.

“Rich,” he finally mustered up.

“Thank god you broke the silence,” Richie smiled, leaning back in his chair and loudly dropping his fork onto the plate. “I thought I was going to die without talking.” Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes, glad that his husband appeared fine, but he knew better.

“Richie, tell me what you’re thinking,” Eddie pressed, reaching across the table and gently grasping his husbands hand.

“You’ll think I’m crazy, Eds,” Richie replied, his usual cheeky grin replaced with a fond smile reserved only for Eddie.

“Of course I will, but you should tell me anyways,” Eddie said, putting a cheeky grin on his own face to try and make his husband feel better. Richie sighed heavily again. He didn’t like admitting these things. He preferred to hide them deep in his mind and tell a joke instead.

“Ever since Mike called, all I can hear is...screaming.”

“Screaming?”

“Screaming,” Richie confirmed. “It’s endless, like a memory I can't really recall. But not a memory at the same time? Like a memory that hasn’t happened yet. I-It’s crazy, I know. It’s stupid.” Richie decided not to tell his husband that the screaming sounded like him.

“You said trashmouth on stage,” Eddie recalled. “Where did that come from?”

“Another distant memory, but that one I can recall,” Richie said, finally cracking a real smile and laughing. “You used to call me that, dipshit. You and everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Eddie replied, thinking hard. “Everyone...Mike. Stan. Bill.”

“Beverly and Ben,” Richie finished. “It took me awhile to come up with everyones names. Eds, this is weird as fuck. I don’t like it at all. Why can’t I remember them? Eddie, why can’t I remember meeting you?”

That sentence made Eddie freeze. He’d never thought about that, but it’s true. If he tried to think about it, it just felt like he and Richie had always been together. But that couldn’t really be true, could it? They had moved away and gone to the same college, been roommates, tried dating other people, but realized that they always wanted to go back to each other. They got engaged and married after just a year of being graduated from college. And that’s all Eddie could remember. There was nothing before then. Until now.

“Bill. Bill....Bill and Georgie. What happened to Georgie?” Eddie found himself muttering.

“Eds. Eddie. I don’t want to go,” Richie said, leaning forward. He wasn’t smiling this time. “There’s screaming in my ears and I don’t want to go, but I don’t think the screaming will stop until we do go. But...b-but Eddie there’s something else.”

“Something else?” Eddie asked, his leg already bouncing up and down from the anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

“I...shit,” Richie sucked in a breath and dropped his head on the table. He was shaking, not wanting to admit this.

“You shit?” Eddie chuckled. “Well that’s disgusting.”

“No, no, no,” Richie mumbled, his face still on the table. “It’s coming back to me in bits and pieces. Eddie, I don't want to hurt you, but the fear. The fear is coming back to me. I remember being so afraid.”

“Afraid of what? What’s going to hurt me? Rich, you aren’t making sense.”

“This is Derry we’re talking about Eddie. We...we can’t..”

The realization hit Eddie like a ton of bricks. And in the back of his mind he heard a faint whisper that sounded like “I’m afraid of clowns”. But it was gone from his memory as soon as it arrived.

“Shit...” Eddie mumbled. “We can’t be gay.”

-End of chapter 1-

Chapter Text

“So how does this work?” Eddie asked as they stood in line for airport security. “Do we just make up fake lives and tell them all lies?”

“I think we have to,” Richie sighed, rubbing his temples. He’d had a constant headache for days now with the screaming in his head coming and going. Medicine didn’t help and he found himself waking with nightmares.

“Maybe we don’t? Maybe Derrys changed since we were kids,” Eddie shrugged. “I can’t remember much but I don’t think the others will care.”

“It’s not the others I’m concerned about,” Richie said, beginning to glance around with slight paranoia. Any of these people could be on their way to Derry and judging them just for standing this close to each other. “Derry. I have these feelings in the pit of my stomach and I can remember feeling like I hated myself. I was so scared. I felt like a fool. Like a clown.”

“A...clown?” Eddie asked, looking down at his shoes. He could’ve sworn he heard a high pitched, ecstatic laughter in his head but it was probably just some kid down the hall.

“Figure of speech, Eds,” Richie said, reaching out to grab his husbands hand but freezing and pulling it back to his own side. They promised each other they would start practicing hiding it on the plane ride so it would be more natural. His left hand felt strangely light without his ring on, but they both were wearing their rings on a necklace tucked under their shirts.

“Hey look!” Richie said, trying to break the silence. “I made you something!” Eddie looked back up and saw the stupid, dopey grin on Richie’s face and cringed. This wouldn’t be good and he could feel it. Richie pulled out a photo and shoved it into Eddie’s hands. “For you and your backstory, meet your new wife!” he chuckled darkly.

“Richie you fucking son of a bitch,” Eddie hissed, glaring up at his husband. The photo was an edited picture of his mom. It was well edited but Eddie could still tell it was her. Richie couldn’t help but bust out in loud laughter.

“Look, Eddie! It’ll be so much more believable if you married a woman exactly like your mom! Plus you wouldn’t have to come up with a personality. You already know her!”

“You’re an absolute asshole,” Eddie rolled his eyes. But he knew Richie was right. Eddie had never been good at coming up with ideas on the fly.

“But you love me?” Richie chuckled, wondering if he’d gone too far. It was a good idea but maybe he should’ve asked first.

“No. I have a wife I’m devoted to,” Eddie sighed. “She cooks my food, cuts it for me, and gives me warm apple juice at night.” Richie broke out into a wide smile, grabbing his husbands arm and pulling him close to rub his hair like he loved to do.

“That’s the spirit, Spaghetti!!” he exclaimed. As soon as he said it, they both froze before Eddie pulled away from him slowly, fixing his hair. Neither of them mentioned it because they both knew what they were thinking.

One, they couldn’t act like that anymore. And two, Richie hadn’t called him “Spaghetti” in 27 years. This seemed to be happening so fast. Everything was coming back and yet they still couldn’t remember anything.

“Step up, please,” the lady working the security counter said. Richie couldn’t decide whether she was glaring at them or if it was his imagination. His fear. Eddie stepped up, taking his shoes off and placing them on the conveyor belt with his take on bag. His bag was filled with medications, a first aid kit, and even his old inhaler. Richie’s bag was a lot smaller and literally just had his phone and a book in it.

After going through security without any hitches, the two arrived at the terminal they needed, having a hard time not holding hands as they walked through the airport. People didn’t care that they were gay where they lived now, but Derry...Derry was different and they knew it. They couldn’t remember how they knew it but they did.

Richie began drilling Eddie on his fake love life with his edited mom, who they named Myra. They came up with a boring job so nobody would want to ask him too many questions about it. A risk analyst.

“Why don’t you get a fake wife?” Eddie huffed, leaning back in his chair as they waited for the plane to arrive. “I have to remember all of this bullshit. What do you have to remember?”

“Not to grab your ass every few minutes,” Richie whispered with a grin.

“God, Rich, seriously?” Eddie rolled his eyes. But he appreciated the joke. The whole ‘not being gay’ thing was really getting to him but he knew it was worse for Richie. It had taken Richie a lot longer to admit his feelings for Eddie than Eddie would’ve liked, but they both knew it wasn’t because he didn't care about Eddie. It was because of his internalized fear. And maybe this trip would answer some questions about that fear...

“Seriously though, they’ll believe I’m not married because I’m too busy on tours and coming up with new jokes,” Richie explained. “And I can’t get a fake job because I know they can google me.”

“They aren’t your jokes,” Eddie reminded him. Richie had stopped writing his own material ages ago and Eddie never let him live it down. But the producers wanted his jokes to be a little less...crude.

“I know, Edward!” Richie exclaimed. “But nobody else needs to know that and you sure as hell shouldn’t know that as a risk analyst.”

“Now boarding, flight 237. Now boarding, flight 237,” the voice on the speaker crooned.

“That’s us,” Eddie said, checking his boarding pass to make sure he was correct. As they slowly walked through the tunnel to board the plane, Richie found himself glancing at the people that were boarding as well. There weren't many people on their way to Maine, but Richie was feeling the nervousness bubble up in his stomach again. The screaming came back to the forefront of his mind and he squeezed his eyes shut trying to push it away.

“Rich, you ok? I’ve got some aspirin if you need it for the headache...” Eddie asked, putting a gentle hand on his husbands shoulder. Richie opened his eyes and noticed an older man further away from them on the plane watching them with glaring eyes. Richie pursed his lips and shook Eddie’s hand off of his shoulder before forcing a huge smile on his face.

“I’m fine! Just some preflight jitters,” he replied.

“You never have problems with flying, but I have some sea-bands in my bag,” Eddie pushed back, but he didn’t press any further, instead changing the subject as they sat down in their seats and hiding the hurt he felt at being shaken off of his husband. He knew it was because of Derry, not because Richie didn't love him. “Rich, why do you think we can’t remember anything specifically?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird. I can’t believe we never thought about it before now. It just kind of felt like we were always together and I never cared to think about it. But we must have met at the same time we met everyone else, right?”

“Wait!” Eddie exclaimed in a hushed tone, sitting straight up. “If we forgot about everyone else..”

“Ah shit!” Richie muttered, realizing what Eddie was about to say and sinking low into the plane chair. “Not only do I have to pretend you aren’t the cutest little fucker I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have to pretend we don’t even remember each other at all.”

“Richie, we don’t have to do this. We can just tell them.” He was getting nervous again but this time it was because he didn’t want to even pretend to live in a world without Richie. Richie had always been there and they were always together. It would be hard to do anything else.

“...Maybe you’re right,” Richie muttered, slowly reaching his hand over and laying it on Eddie’s thigh. The contact instantly made them both feel better.

Less than an hour after the plane took off, Eddie was already asleep, his head resting gently on the edge of Richie’s shoulder as Richie tried to read the book he had brought. But he couldn’t focus. Instead he shut the book and pulled his phone out opening the notes app.

“Let’s see if this makes sense,” he muttered to himself under his breath. First he wrote down Mike. That was the first thing they had remembered. After that was the screaming, but he didn’t know how to articulate that so he skipped it. Then it was traashmouth, so he wrote that under Mike. Next he wrote down the names of the rest of the losers.

“Losers,” Richie gasped, flinging his head back in realization. This accidentally jostled his shoulder and Eddie flinched before nestling back into a comfortable position, all without waking up. “Losers,” Richie repeated, quieter this time so he wouldn’t wake his husband.

He wrote losers underneath everyones names and then wrote Spaghetti at the bottom of the short list they had been able to remember together. But he realized that wasn’t all that he remembered. He added one more word.

Fear.

The plane landed without a hitch and Richie shook Eddie awake gently.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, quietly so nobody else could hear. “Time to wake up and grab your bag of drugs.”

“Don’t say drugs on a plane, we’ll get detained,” Eddie replied groggily, without even opening his eyes. “You know airports and planes are some of the dirtiest places. You just get trapped in an airtight container like a germ petrie dish.”

“God Eddie, I love when you talk dirty to me,” Richie chuckled, standing up so Eddie’s head was dropped off of his shoulder and he was forced to open his eyes.

“So, are we going to pretend or...” Eddie asked, glancing at his husband. Richie’s smile faltered for a second as the scream rang out in his ears again.

“I..don’t want to, Eds,” Richie said, smiling and holding his hand out. Eddie smiled back and took his hand.

“We’ll be fine. We’re always fine if we’re together,” Eddie insisted. Richie smiled, pulling Eddie up and out of his chair.

“Let’s get going,” he said, planting a kiss on his husbands cheek and ignoring the burning fear in his stomach. If he had Eddie, he could get through it. He could get through anything.

They walked out of the plane hand in hand, not looking at anyone so they could ignore whether or not Maine would hate them for being themselves. But as soon as they exited the airport and headed towards the car dealership, everything changed.

A box full of newspapers sat directly in front of the door but it was what was written on the front page that made Richie and Eddie drop their hands, jump an entire foot away from each other, and stare blankly ahead at the papers.

DERRY’S HATE CRIME AGAINST GAYS, BRUTAL DEATH OF ADRIAN MELLON

Adrian Mellon, a young, openly gay, asthmatic man found torn to pieces with body parts missing.

Underneath the papers, scratched onto the surface of the newspaper box, were the words that made Richie want to throw up all over again.

FAG DESERVED IT

“Rich...” Eddie whispered, reaching out to try and grab Richie’s hands. But Richie reeled back, pulling away from Eddie, his eyes wide.

“No. No, no, no,” Richie mumbled. It was rare for Eddie to see Richie this upset. He preferred to hide his negative emotions behind smiles and jokes. But he wasn’t hiding anything right now. “We have to break up. For now.”

“Ok, it’s ok, Richie. We’ll do it however you want,” Eddie said, trying to be supportive. He saw Richie shake his head, take off his glasses, and rub his nose, a surefire way to tell that Richie was having another screaming session in his own head. When Richie put his glasses back up, he had another one of his forced smiles on his face.

“Can’t waste that perfect wife of yours, huh, Eds,” Richie laughed, but the laughter didn't reach his eyes.

Eddie hated Richie’s fake smiles.

Chapter Text

The plan was for Richie to go in first and Eddie would come in later. They both got their own car rentals from the dealership even though it was a little expensive, but better safe than sorry so people wouldn’t know they had arrived together.

They decided to grab a room and drop off their luggage first before going to the restaurant where everyone was supposed to meet. Richie pulled into the old town house first and Eddie arrived shortly after, having been following him and hoping none of the losers would see them arriving.

“If this is the best place to bunk in this shithole of a town, the others are probably staying here too,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his giant luggage bags from the trunk.

“We’ve got two rooms but in the middle of the night I’ll sneak into your room,” Richie replied. “It’ll be like high school all over again except without Mrs. K in the other room.”

“High school...” Eddie mumbled, running his hand through his well styled hair. “God yeah, Rich. High school. You used to sneak over every fucking night.”

“This town is batshit,” Richie chuckled darkly, throwing his single bag over his shoulder. “Taking memories like that from us. We’d been best friends all this time and we couldn’t even remember little shitty details like that.” Eddie suddenly thought of a question that made a blush creep up his neck.

“You’re turning reds, Eds,” Richie said, doing his best not to smile too fondly at his husband as they walked towards the town house entrance. “What is little Eddie Spaghetti thinking?”

“Jeez, don’t call me that, Rich! It’s weird!” Eddie said, but chuckled nonetheless.

“Force of...habit? I guess?” Richie replied, shaking his head. “Spill it. What are you thinking?”

“Umm,” Eddie muttered, clearing his throat. “Do you remember...when you realized that you were in love with me?”

Richie nearly tripped, not expecting that question. And then after he caught himself, he busted out laughing. Eddie was a little happy to hear Richie actually laughing for the first time in awhile, but it still made his ears burn with embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, Rich! I’m being serious!” It took Richie another second to calm down his laughing, but he finally did, opening the door to the townhouse.

“No, Eddie, I can’t believe it but I really don’t. I guess it’s been that long,” Richie chuckled, whispering in case anyone was around. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his adorable husband up in a giant hug but he resisted the urge, pushing the newspaper headline out of his brain.

“Can I help you?” There was an older man sitting at the desk watching the two men as they walked in. The room wasn’t lit very well, casting shadows around the room. The man at the desk had paperwork across it and seemed annoyed to be bothered.

“Ah yes! I’ve got two rooms booked under Tozier!” Richie said, throwing a classic smile on his face. Eddie couldn’t book his own room since his ID said Kaspbrak-Tozier on it.

“Here,” the man said, tossing the room keys across the desk and then going back to his paperwork.

“Um, thank you?” Richie replied, cocking an eyebrow at the weird nature of the desk worker. It really unsettled him, and again, he felt the urge to pull his husband closer but ignored the urge. This whole town is so fucking weird. The two headed over to the stairs, ignoring the nagging fear in both of their stomachs as they ascended to the room floor.

“You want 122 and I’ll take 124?” Richie asked, holding out the keys for Eddie to pick from.

“My hands are full, idiot,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Richie grinned, opening the door to room 122 for Eddie. “I forgot you packed for you AND the lovely Myra.” Eddie flinched, hating to be reminded of the lying as they walked into his new room.

“Beep beep, Richie,” he huffed, naturally and not even realizing what he said.

Richie gasped, having not heard that phrase in years. He thought he could hear an odd noise in his ears but thankfully it wasn’t the screaming. It sounded like distant carnival music and a scratchy voice taunting him. “Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Beep, beep.”

It faded away and was replaced with the sound of familiar mumbling.

“Stop your muttering, Eds,” he sighed. “You know I don’t mean it.”

“I know,” Eddie replied, tossing his bags on the bed. “You always turn into such an ass when you’re trying to cover your emotions up. You think I don’t know by now.”

“Oh I know that you know. But I can’t help it,” Richie sighed, putting a pouty face on and dropping his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “Don’t you like your hubby happy?”

“I like my hubby honest, you idiot,” Eddie frowned, shoving Richie’s face off of his shoulder.

“Ooh. Playing rough today,” Richie smirked, rubbing his face.

“Richie get serious for a minute! Please!”

“Fine. Fine. I’m sorry,” Richie mumbled, heading for the door to go put his bag away. “This is tough, ok?”

“I know,” Eddie replied, giving his husband a small smile. “Can you leave your bag in here? That way I have something hostage so I know you’ll come back in here later and not forget about me?”

“Anything for you, Spaghetti,” Richie beamed, dropping his bag on the ground before heading out the door to go check the other room they had booked. Eddie shook his head, chuckling and picking up Richie’s discarded bag and putting it next to his own.

Then, Eddie pulled his wallet out of his bag and took the pictures of himself and Richie out, laying them on the bed side table. He slipped the edited picture of his mom into the front slot and looked at it for a second before cracking a smile and trying to hold in a small laugh. “It is pretty funny, though.”

Chapter Text

“See you in a few?” Richie asked, hand on the doorknob in Eddie’s hotel room.

“Yeah, I’ll leave in a bit and give you time to get there,” Eddie said, sticking to the plan they’d come up with on the way here. “Don’t drink all of the alcohol until I get there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie chuckled. He grinned and waved to his husband, heading out the door. As soon as the door was closed, he let his facade drop, leaning against the closed door for a second to heave a sigh. Feeling a little more composed, he headed down the stairs and out to his car. After punching in the restaurant address that Mike had selected for them, he was on his way.

Unfortunately, within just a few minutes of driving, the screaming returned. At first, he tried to ignore it and keep going, but eventually it became too distracting and he had to pull over. As soon as he threw the car into park, he slammed his head on the steering wheel in frustration.

“Fuck this! What is wrong with me?” he yelled, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore what he was certain sounded like Eddie screaming in his head. After a few seconds of this, the screaming faded out and Richie was able to sit up straight again. Thats when he saw the clock. What had felt like 10 seconds turned out to be 10 minutes.

“Shit! Fuck! Eddie!” he exclaimed, peeling out of the spot he had parked. If Eddie got to the restaurant first and saw that he was missing, he’d have a panic attack and send the army out to find him. Nothing to give away their secret like Eddie freaking the fuck out. He tried to text his husband, but his phone wasn’t receiving any signal. “Fuck this town! Fuck everything!”

“Myra. Risk analyst. Myra,” Eddie muttered like a mantra as he walked into the restaurant. “Richie? Don’t know him. He’s an asshole. I only know Myra. Did I mention I’m a risk analyst and after analyzing the risk of this lying game, I predict that we’re all gonna fucking die.”

“Sir, can I help you?” a hostess asked, looking at him oddly as he mumbled like a rambling crazy person.
“Ah yes, actually,” Eddie said, putting on his best brave face. Any second now he’d be in the same room as Richie and he could calm down. “I’m here for Hanlon, party of 7.”

“Ah right this way, sir,” she smiled, leading him towards the back of the restaurant. “Two people have arrived already. I’m sure the others will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And while I have your attention, I have a few allergies to be aware of.” After they left Derry, Richie convinced him to get an actual allergy test so he wouldn’t be so scared of every food, just the ones he was actually allergic to once his mom was out of his head. “I avoid soy, anything that has egg in it, gluten, and if I eat a cashew….”

Eddie’s voice trailed off as he looked up and saw the two people that had already arrived. He felt like he was staring at his childhood. Memories came flooding back, but not like real memories? Just flashes. Bikes. The quarry. Movie theaters. A rock fight?

“…I could realistically die,” he finally said, staring at Mike and Bill, two people he hadn’t seen in absolute years but he recognized instantly. And then he realized that Richie wasn’t there. Two people had arrived and neither were Richie.

“Holy shit.”

Richie parked rather sloppily and tumbled out of the car, scrambling for the entrance of the restaurant as he checked his watch again. But he was forced to stop. There were two people blocking the door. Neither of them looked familiar until he saw them go in for a warm hug, sickeningly happy smiles on their face. Bev, he could believe. But Ben?
“Wow, you two look amazing,” he said, mainly just to get their attention. They pulled apart and looked at him, eyes wide. “What the fuck happened to me?”

After a few seconds of awkward hugging and reintroducing themselves to each other, Richie opened the door to the restaurant and barreled inside, trying to hide his urgency. As the hostess lead them through the restaurant, he willed her to move faster, hoping that Eddie hadn’t arrived yet. But as they passed a fish tank, he could see through it and see the familiar face of his husband on the other side.

“Shit,” he sighed under his breath so the others couldn’t hear. He saw how wide Eddie’s eyes were as he feigned a smile, his fingers drumming against his leg in a nervous fashion. So he did what Richie does best. He made a dumb joke.

A loud BONG! rang out as he smashed the mallet into the gong that was decoratively sitting on a table in the entrance of the room Mike had booked for them. It had the desired effect as Eddie, Mike, and Bill turned in shock. Eddie looked insanely nervous, but Richie could see the relief in his eyes as they landed on him.

“The meeting of the losers club has officially begun!” he said, now that all eyes were on him. Beverly and Ben turned back around to the rest of the group with stiff smiles.

“Ah, look at these guys!” Eddie chuckled awkwardly, eyebrows still furrowed in a nervous way but joining with Richie to try and break the strange tension of the room. He resisted the urge to yell at Richie for being late right then and there, hopefully getting the message across with a pointed look that they would talk about it later.

A few moments later they were sitting at a round table, Richie purposefully putting an empty chair between him and his husband. The further away from each other, the easier to hide their stolen glances.

“So,” Bill started, always being the first to get an actual conversation going. “What has everyone been up to?”

“You’ve apparently been up to speech therapy,” Richie said, leaning across the table with a cheesy grin. Most people would be offended by such a statement, but the others seemed to find Richie’s brashness familiar and almost comforting. Eddie just rolled his eyes but the others thought nothing of it.

“Ok, so Richie is the same old asshole,” Mike chuckled. “A famous comedian right? That’s awesome, Rich!”

“Yeah, it keeps me busy,” Richie said, leaning back into his chair and feigning nonchalance. “Nothing fancy though.”

They went through the motions, talking about each other and such formalities. It was like trying to get to know someone that you already knew, but didn’t. Of course everyone recognized Bill’s name from his books and they all found it strange that they hadn’t remembered being best friends with the famous author until now. None of them brought it up though. At the beginning of the friendly conversation, drinks and shots were being passed around the table. Eddie tried to decline, worried his drunken stupor would give him away, but after being pestered by Mike and then Richie, he gave in.

As they talked and their food arrived, they all discovered that Ben and Bev were pretty rich and successful as well and Mike had just been living in Derry working as a librarian. Nobody understood why he stayed, but again, nobody brought it up. That left Eddie to talk about his life, but before they did, Mike suggested another shot. Eddie sighed, glancing at Richie who was already showing signs of being highly intoxicated. The man could not hold his liquor which is why he and Eddie only had a glass of wine with dinner maybe once a week. This would not end well.

“I’m a working, married man,” Eddie said as they passed the bottle of undisclosed liquid around the table. He hadn’t lied yet but he knew it was coming soon. He was a working, married man.

They all clinked glasses, Eddie stealing a glance at Richie who was giving him one of his best grins, and then they all tipped their heads and poured the burning liquid down their throats. Richie, of course well beyond drunk, did his shot by placing the rim of the glass all the way in his mouth and tipping his head back. Eddie tried so hard not to roll his eyes at the dramatic man, but then the drunk Richie began to do something he tried not to do seriously once they had gotten married.

He started pressing Eddie’s buttons. Of course he still picked on Eddie every day, but very rarely did it get to the point where Richie was insufferable to his husband. But the rambunctious look he was shooting made Eddie start to tap his foot nervously.

“So wait Eddie, you got married?” he exclaimed, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Eddie wanted to scream. Richie had been the one to suggest they lie like this and damn it if they didn’t get to use the entire story line they had come up with.

“Why is that so fuckin funny, dickwad?” Eddie shot back, glaring daggers across the empty seat. He’d prefer his husband just let him lie in peace because now he had to think about how he would respond to Richie as if they hadn’t been together for the past 27 years. Which was really hard considering...they had been together the past 27 years and Eddie didn't know how to act like that wasn't true.

“What…to like, a woman?” Richie replied, eyes narrowing. That was too much for Eddie, whose face turned red. The losers all thought it was because he was angry but Richie knew he was getting a nervous and shy rise out his husband and he found it fucking hilarious.

“Fuck you, bro,” Eddie replied quietly but pointedly, emphasizing the word bro as if trying to get Richie to leave him be. He did not feel like lying right now, the alcohol beginning to haze his fake story anyways.

“Fuck you!” Richie yelled back at him loudly, laughing. Eddie wanted to slam his face on the table, knowing that the fuck you had a different meaning to them than it did to the losers. After all, they are husbands...

Suddenly flashbacks flew into his mind. Richie had always been like this when they were younger. He had always picked on Eddie until the he was screaming mad. He’d changed a little once they moved away and became more tolerant, less yelling. But the undertones of an annoying Richie picking on his crush just to make him mad were still there.

In Eddie’s mind, he wondered if it was really the alcohol making Richie like this…or if it was the town.

“Alright, what about you, trashmouth?” Bill spoke up, always one to help avoid a conflict. “You married?” The other losers, aside from Eddie (who was staring at his plate trying to calm down), immediately began laughing and protesting.

“No, I am!” Richie protested back before he could stop himself. Eddie’s eyes shot up. They had NOT discussed this.

“Rich, I don’t believe that,” Bev said.

“Yeah, when?” Eddie asked, eyes as sharp as daggers.

“Oh, what you didn’t hear?” he asked, suddenly appearing serious.

“No,” Eddie glared.

“You didn’t know?” Richie muttered. And then it clicked. He’s supposed to be lying.

“No!” Eddie finally broke, raising his voice in annoyance. He’d spent all of this time preparing and Richie was going to ruin it all.

Finally, it clicked for Richie and he realized somehow in his drunken brain, that he needed to come up with something to backpedal his statement. He wasn’t supposed to be married in this false life they had created. So he did the only thing he could think of. A “your mom” joke which was made worse by the false picture residing in Eddie’s wallet.

“Yeah no, me and your mom are very happy,” he said with confidence.

Immediately the table burst into giddy laughter, Bill nearly spitting his drink all over the table. Eddie could’ve died of embarrassment right there, especially knowing that Richie was doing this on purpose. He shook his head, and took another sip of his drink. This was going to be a long night and he knew it would look weird if he reached across the empty chair and slapped Richie across the face for stressing him out.

“Fuck you,” he muttered again.

“Wait, lets talk about the elephant not in the room,” Richie piped up, deciding to try and tease Eddie in a different way. “Ben! What the fuck man?”

“Ok, ok obviously I lost a few pounds,” Ben replied, chuckling slightly.

“Well yeah, you’re like…you’re hot!” Richie replied, motioning to the poor man. Eddie pursed his lips in frustration, glancing up and down at Ben’s physique. It was true, Ben did turn out hot. But that didn’t stop the jealousy from tinging Eddie’s mind. Even though he was well aware that Richie would never be truly into the buff, muscular type. That didn’t stop Richie from trying to press Eddie’s jealousy buttons. Alcohol should not be allowed at these kinds of events!

“You’re like every Brazilian soccer player rolled into one! Gorgeous!”

Eddie took another shot, hastily trying to keep his nerves cooled. Richie would get them both into trouble with his big mouth. This had been HIS idea and now his alcohol loosened tongue was going to ruin it.

“Leave him alone,” Beverly huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re embarrassing him.” The other losers laughed, continuing to pester the poor man.

“Alright, please,” Ben said, hopeful to get the attention off of himself. He motioned to the empty chair between Eddie and Richie. “Is Stanley coming or what?”

Richie’s face fell as he looked at the empty chair. In fact, everyone’s did. They had almost forgotten that he wasn’t even there and he was supposed to be. They had been talking like he didn’t even exist and now all of a sudden, his absence was glaringly obvious. Scarily in fact. They had been talking over the empty chair this whole time, forgetting that it was even there.

“Huh, Stan,” Eddie muttered under his breath. He couldn’t seem to see the mentioned in his mind, but he was feeling something familiar. A feeling of trust perhaps.

“No he’s not coming,” Richie exclaimed in yet another joking manor to break up the odd tension that settled like a blanket at the mention of Stan. “He’s a fucking pussy! He’s not gonna show.”

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t feel very good. Something in his brain was telling him that everything was going to go wrong. And the empty chair was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

The empty chair sat there as they continued talking. Eddie was trying to ignore the nagging feelings that pooled in his stomach by drinking more and more, despite his better judgment. Even though Richie kept making bad jokes at his expense (”Was this job invented before fun?” Dammit Richie this was your idea!), his stomach was really beginning to hurt as he fought of the fear he was feeling and he found himself continuing to glance at the empty chair between them.

The alcohol was clearly effecting everyone now and Eddie was having a problem controlling his facial expressions, which became evident when Beverly leaned in to give Richie a kiss and he actually leaned back. Thankfully she was just playing around and instead stuffed a piece of Chinese food into his mouth, but that didn’t stop Eddie from glaring at his drunken husband who just laughed and pushed another shot across the table to him.

Eddie thought about turning down the shot as he was really starting to feel dizzy and fuzzy. At least one of them needed to remain conscious enough to keep their false storylines going. But Richie smirked and wagged his eyebrows in a flirtatious manor and Eddie blushed before downing the drink to avoid looking at his husband.

That was a bad decision because then it really start to hit him and Eddie found himself beginning to giggle at Richie’s terrible jokes. When Mike jokingly asked who was the strongest among them now and everyone pointed at the Ben, Richie said they should determine the strongest person at the table by arm wrestling. Somewhere in Eddie’s mind, he knew this was a bad idea but he agreed anyways, reaching across the table and grasping his husbands hand firmly. He laughed at the face Richie was making.

“What do you want to bet on this, Eds?” Richie cackled, squeezing Eddie’s hand so lightly that nobody else would notice.

Eddie replied, but he couldn’t even remember what he said or anyones reaction to it, which is probably for the better. He couldn’t even remember who won, although with prior knowledge he could tell that it was probably Richie. All of the interactions were muddled in his brain as they ate and laughed and talked and caught up and ignored the empty chair.

Richie chose to ignore the other losers after awhile, instead opting to 100% focus on adding another aspect to Eddie’s fake life. Luckily, the others were ignoring them as well, opting to talk about their own lives amongst each other, but Richie insisted that part of Eddie’s new backstory was that he was a secret fan of Richie’s comedy act.

To be fair, this would make it easier to explain why Eddie would know so much about Richie, just in case he slipped up and said something that might’ve given him away. But to be honest, Richie was only doing it to push as many of Eddie’s buttons as he could. Unfortunately, their attention was pulled back to the conversation when it turned serious again.

“I mean it’s weird right?” Ben spoke up. Eddie turned away from Richie and tuned back into the conversation even though they had missed everything leading up to it. “Now that we’re all here, everything just comes back faster and faster.”

Richie glanced down at the empty plate in front of him. He knew Ben wasn’t wrong. As they sat here and the alcohol clouded his mind, he also felt like parts of his mind were being unveiled.

“...you know,” he piped up. “When Mike called me, I threw up.” Eddie glanced over through the corner of his eyes, surprised that Richie would admit that. “Isn’t that weird? Like, I got nervous. I got, like, sick. And I threw up.”

It got quiet and awkward suddenly, as nobody in their half faded memories could ever recall Richie being open and honest about his negative feelings. Except for Eddie, who knew well enough that Richie was starting to ramble.

“I feel fine now, l feel very relieved to be here with you guys,” he continued, letting his eyes linger on Eddie before noticing that the rest of the table was just looking at him in shock. “Why is everybody looking at me like that...?”

“When Mike called me, I crashed my car,” he came up with, impressed with his sudden burst of courage and ability to lie. He just knew he had to get the attention off of his rambling husband before he let too much slip. He saw Richie shake his head and push his own shot glass away, the first smart decision he'd made that night.

“Man, I hear ya,” Ben replied to that. Eddie was glad he didn’t have to elaborate on his false car wreck, happy to let Ben take the lead on the conversation. “My heart was literally like pounding out of my chest.”

“I thought it was only me,” Beverly muttered, eyes wide. They had all been ignoring these feelings all night but now that they were talking about it, it all came spilling out.

“It’s like pure f...f..f..” Bill stuttered. He hadn’t stuttered all night and Richie was starting to wonder if his joke about speech therapy went to far.

“Fear,” Mike said, capturing everyones attention with just the one word. “It’s fear. What you felt.”

Eddie's leg was shaking again as he wished they could go back to being drunk and stupid but they all felt suddenly sober. He felt the familiar warmth of a hand on his leg and he placed his own hand on top of it, knowing it was Richie without having to look and hoping nobody was paying attention to them. He needed Richie right now.

“Why did we all f-feel that way, Mike?” Bill asked. “You remember something that we don’t, do you?” They all remembered some things. Bits and pieces. But Bill was right. He was right about a lot of things.

“Something happens to you when you leave this town,” Mike began, seemingly reluctant. “The farther away, the hazier it all gets. But me, I never left. So yeah. I remember. I remember all of it.”

Eddie tightened his grip on Richie’s hand, still without looking at him. That made sense. His last memories he could fully remember were once they moved away to college. Everything before that was a blur, like it had never really happened except maybe in a dream. Or a nightmare?

There was a deafening silence and then...

“Pennywise...”

It was Beverly who had said it, but they were all thinking it. That one word, when vocalized, had the power to send all of them back 27 years to a time when they were smaller and more fragile. Bright, yellow eyes opened in Eddie’s memory and his arm suddenly felt a ghost like pain, like it had been snapped in two. Yellow eyes...

“...the fucking clown,” Eddie muttered and suddenly he was gasping, trying to catch his breath. He felt Richie’s hand retreat, pulling away, so he risked another glance in his direction and saw that Richie appeared terrified, blankly staring ahead at seemingly nothing. Eddie wondered what memories were appearing to him but kept the question to himself.

“Mike you said you wanted our help with something,” Bill uttered, his face no longer showing the friendly expression he’d been using the whole night. Everything was more serious now. “What was that?”

“There’s an echo here in Derry that bounces back every 27 years,” Mike explained, sounding a little hurried now that they had gotten down to business. “We thought we stopped it back then, we thought it was done.”

Richie was silent, something that couldn’t be said very often. He’d pulled away from his husband for a reason. A horrible reason that made him feel sick. He was...afraid. As ridiculous as it sounded, the more they talked about this, the more intense fear he felt at the thought of touching his own husband. What was happening? What DID happen that he couldn't remember?

And then Mike pulled out a notebook and brought up something that made both Eddie and Richie want to turn around and never come back.

“A week ago, a man named Adrian Mellon, slaughtered,” he said, pointing to one of the pages in his notebook.

“Mike...” Richie weakly muttered, wanting him to stop talking about this, the pressing fear growing too intense for him. The screaming was back in his mind and yet it wasn't loud enough to drown out the terrifying conversation that they had gotten themselves into.

The table started to get louder and louder as each of the losers started mumbling protests and trying to stop the conversation. They didn’t want to hear it. None of them wanted to hear It. Richie was rubbing his nose, his glasses shoved up to his forehead, trying to get his headache to calm down. But with the screaming in his head and the yelling at the table, nothing would help. Eddie would’ve reached over to try and help him, damn the lying, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his mind, his arm in searing pain as he sat gasping for air.

“Let him explain!” Ben said, getting everyone to calm down after a few seconds. Even the screaming in Richie’s head stopped.

“That echo,” Mike finally was able to say with everyone listening. “We might have changed it, just like It changed us, but we didn’t stop it. It just bounced back. We made an oath. Thats why I brought you back! That’s why you’re all here! To finish It...for good.”

After the bold speech, nobody spoke for a second. Nobody knew how to respond and the dark aura that surrounded the group felt heavy, like a thick fog.

“Well that shit got dark fast,” Richie muttered, his composure regained enough to make wise cracks again. Eddie pursed his lips but was glad to hear his husbands voice through all of his fears and memories that were resurfacing. It brought him back to the present from a past he was almost sure he’d rather forget at this point than dredge up. He was really starting to regret saying they should come on this trip but he also knew that he wouldn't have said no. Neither of them would've.

To distract himself, he pulled a fortune cookie out of a bowl that had been set down some time before and cracked it open. Once he read it, he huffed out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“My fortune cookie just says ‘could’,” he told the table, tossing the paper back on to the table. Richie instantly went along with the idea of fortune cookie distractions, but was equally as disappointed.

“They don’t know how to do fortune cookies here. Mine just says ‘guess’.”

“Would you mind throwing that over here?” Bill said, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He stood up, leaning over the table as everyone else started cracking open their own cookies. After compiling the papers together that he had collected from everyone, they all saw that each one only had one word printed on them. When they stood alone, the words meant nothing, but together...

Bill started trying to rearrange the papers. Eddie and Ben stood up, gathering around him and trying to help but it just ended up making more and more of a mess of the situation. Richie stood, but only leaned across the table, trying to get a better view. He suddenly noticed that Eddie was starting to get hysterical when he saw that Mike’s fortune simply read “It”.

“When it says ‘It’ does that mean...IT?” he was asking loudly, but of course nobody knew and the fact that nobody knew was just making it more and more aggravating for everyone involved. They were all starting to yell again. Eddie and Ben trying to help with the papers and Richie complaining about how fucked up it all was. But Mike sounded almost vindicated.

“You see! This is what I was talking about!” Mike exclaimed.

“Did you fuck with the fortune cookies, Mike?” Richie shot back across the table at him, clearly getting angry now. Eddie was about ready to have a panic attack and if Richie found out that Mike had planted these cookies to try and freak all of them out, he was not going to be very nice about it in return.

“No!” Mike replied, trying to remain calm. “This is what It does!”

Nobody noticed how quiet Beverly had been through this entire ordeal and she stared at her own fortune in her hands in disbelief. At least...she didn’t want to believe. She didn't even feel when the first tear fell. Bill finally noticed that she was still holding a paper and after he turned to her, everyone else noticed as well.

The table fell silent.

Beverly slowly looked up at everyone and they could see every ounce of fear in her eyes as she gently placed the paper on the table next to the others. When the rest of the losers all looked down to see what it said, only Bill could move. The rest were frozen in shock as they watched Bill add the paper that just read ‘Stanley’ to the lineup, finally forming a full sentence.

Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. With the lying, the drinking, the stress. He felt like he was going to explode already, but reading the words ‘Guess Stanley Could Not Cut It’ was like a punch to the gut.

“Why does it say Stanley?” he asked, glaring around the table at everyone except Richie. He didn’t want to see Richie’s face right now. He almost didn’t want to be calmed down. He wanted answers. They came to this town to get answers, not more questions. “Will somebody fucking answer me!”

As he said that, the table suddenly bounced. All of the losers at the table immediately stepped back. And then they saw the fortune cookie bowl...and it was shaking. A single cookie jumped out of the bowl, as the others continued to shake, and landed on the table. And when it cracked open, Eddie jumped backwards fully, eyes wide.

“What the fuck is that?” Richie mumbled, pointing at the strange talon that appeared where the cookie had cracked itself open. Nobody answered. Instead they watched as a horror unfolded right before their eyes. A strange bug like creature was being birthed from a fucking fortune cookie right in front of them on the table. And when it fully emerged, they saw that its head was a human baby and it began to wail.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose.

The losers flung themselves towards the walls in an effort to get away from the table. Each fortune cookie left in the bowl contained a different creature, all of which were now breaking free and crawling out onto the table. A particularly wet eyeball with long tentacles flopped out in front of Richie, beginning to crawl towards him as he screamed and scrambled away in a blind panic.

Naturally, once he hit the wall, Richie frantically lifted his eyes in search of his husband. Eddie was in front of Ben as they cowered in a separate corner being attacked by some sort of hybrid cookie, bat thing that was flying right into their faces. Ben was swatting at it from behind him, but all Eddie could do was hold up his arms in self defense, screaming.

"I don't want to be here!" he was yelling into his arms. "I want to go home!"

“Eddie!” Richie called from across the room. He wanted to run to him and do anything in his power to protect him, but his feet felt frozen to the spot as he leaned against the wall for support. This couldn’t be happening! This couldn’t be real! They were fine. Everything was fine. “Eddie!” he called again, desperately now, not caring that they weren’t suppose to be married at the moment. Who the fuck cares at a time like this! Unfortunately, Eddie couldn't hear Richie as he continued burying his face into his arms for protection from the cookie, bat.

The horrors continued, noises swirling louder in their ears as screams and wails and...carnival music flooded the room. Black liquid like tar poured out of the cookie bowl and onto the table, burning the fortune papers. Burning ‘Stanley’. Richie had no idea how Mike was able to gain the courage to move like none of the other losers could, but suddenly, the man had picked up his chair and was slamming it against the table top.

“It’s not real!” he was screaming at the top of his lungs. “It’s not real! It’s not real!” Richie was sure Mike had lost his marbles. This all seemed pretty real to him! All of the horrors. The noises. The screaming in his head.

“Is everything alright?”

Everyone froze, eyes wide as they stared at the hostess of the restaurant who had suddenly reappeared. Richie glanced over at the table. No tar. No tiny monsters. No flying cookie bat. No eyeball.

Nothing but a smashed table and a bent chair with 6 adults cowered around the room against the walls.

“Um...yeah. Can we get the check please?”

Chapter Text

They never tried so hard to leave a restaurant at top speed, Eddie in the front as he rambled endlessly.

“That’s what Pennywise does, right?” he was reasoning, more to himself than anyone. “He fucks with us so Stanley is probably fine.” He said the last part for Richie’s comfort. He remembered something. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Richie yet, but they were all so close and he could remember that.

“Hey Mike, do you have Stan’s number?” Beverly asked, pulling her phone out.

“Yeah," he replied shakily, obviously still shaken over everything that just happened. It had all felt so real. The screaming, the crying, the terrors, the papers. It was all just psychological torture and Richie wished he could write it off as going crazy, but they had ALL seen it. The same things. They were there, and yet they weren’t. Just like the damn memories.

“Hey Richie!” a small voice called out from behind them. They had almost reached the door, but Richie froze to the spot, his fear rooting him there after everything that had just happened. He was startled to turn around see a small child with short, curly hair. He was never good at telling kids ages, but he was barely younger than they were when they fought...It.

“How, um, how’d you know my name?” Richie asked, glancing around and trying to see if any of the other patrons of the restaurant could see the kid. Nobody was looking their way so he couldn’t gage it.

“The fun’s just beginning,” the kid spoke, giving a little smile up at the adult. “Right?”

Richie’s eyes widened. Was he being singled out already? Was It really coming for him first? Did It find that little tirade in the dining room...fun? The kid was beaming up at him, a missing tooth showing in his smile.

“Wait..it’s..it’s a-” Eddie started to say before clamping his mouth shut. He wasn’t supposed to be married to Richie, let alone his manager. He shouldn’t be the one to tell the other’s that it’s just a-

“Listen!” Richie exclaimed, interrupting Eddie’s though and bending down to get on the same level with the kid he was sure was actually a demon in disguise. “Do you think this is fun? Some sort of game? Huh?!”

“...um,” Eddie muttered, not sure how to fix this situation. He was glancing around nervously as the other people in the restaurant started turning their attention towards the group. The other losers all looked like they were still trying to decide whether the small child was real or not, each pretty weary after the previous incident. Then Eddie heard his husband lose his absolute shit.

“Fuck you, alright! Fuck you!” he screamed, wild eyed and clearly afraid. “I’m not afraid of you!”

“The funs just beginning,” the kid repeated, this time his face showing concern and confusion. “It’s a line from your act, dude. I’m a fan.”

Eddie could’ve died on the spot just for being associated with such a dumbass, so he couldn’t imagine how Richie was feeling. Richie however didn’t miss a beat. He seemed to almost have the weight lifted off of his shoulders when he realized that he was dealing with a real human child and not some freaky vision.

“Are those your parents?” he asked, pointing up towards a family which was rushing over to retrieve their child. They probably thought he was being seriously threatened by some predator. Eddie was glaring at the back of his husbands head, hoping he could feel the anger burning into him. As his manager, the thought that this would be a publicity nightmare was rumbling around in his brain.

“Yeah...” the kid muttered after glancing back to double check.

“Wanna picture?” Richie crooned, smiling and trying his best to put on a ‘don’t sue me’ face. Eddie swallowed the groan that threatened to leave his mouth. At least he was trying to fix the situation, but jesus christ, Richie!

“I think I’m good...” the poor kid huffed, before turning and following his parents. Yep, he’s scarred for life.

“Ok...cool...” Richie waved, still smiling that horribly forced smile. “Cute kid...”

They all turned slowly and started walking away in shock, but all slightly relieved that it wasn’t another It induced group hallucination.

“Jesus, Rich,” Ben muttered. “You don’t remember the line from your own show.” Then Eddie heard him admit to something he never thought Richie would admit to out loud.

“I don’t write my own material,” Richie replied under his breath, eager to get out of the restaurant as fast as possible.

“I fucking knew it!” he screeched, a victorious look on his face. He was NEVER going to let Richie live this down. “I fucking knew it!” He saw Richie turn his head as they walked out the door and glare at him, but the glare held no malice. It was more just a look to let Eddie know he was sorry.

Outside, they all stood in the parking lot as Beverly stood with the phone on speaker in front of her. But Eddie and Richie were both focused on what all had just happened. Eddie was pacing, his anxiety getting the better of him. Finally, he stopped and turned to Mike.

“You lied to us,” he said, standing next to Richie. “That’s not ok!” Technically, Mike didn’t lie and they both knew that. But Mike definitely avoided telling the whole truth.

“Yeah,” Richie agreed anyways. “The first words out of your mouth should’ve been ‘Hey man! Wanna come to Derry and get murdered?’ Because then I would’ve said ‘no’.” Eddie went back to pacing, his hands shoved in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to grab Richie’s hand.

That’s what Rich always did when Eddie would get nervous. He’d grab his hand and hold him still. Talk to him. Make a joke. Help him think about anything else other than what was causing him to panic. But he couldn’t do that now, could he. That’s when the voice on the phone said something that got all of their attention.

“He passed.” The words shot an arrow through every single one of the loser’s hearts.

Richie’s head shot over to where Beverly was standing, shocked and rooted to the spot. Stan? Stanley? Richie’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in a silent sort of question that he couldn’t even begin to form. The screaming began in his head again, sounding like it was directly inside his left ear. In his right ear, all he could hear was the beating of his own heart, rapid and heavy. He pressed his fingers to his forehead, looking away from the rest of the group.

“When did it happen?” Beverly asked, sounding like she was trying her best not to fumble her words.

“Yesterday,” the voice replied. “It was horrible...the way he died. His wrists...”

Richie couldn’t hear anymore that was said during the phone call and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. All he could hear was the scream, seemingly endless as if the person screaming didn’t need to breathe. Stan...Stanley. Stan. Before now, Richie hadn’t been able to remember much about him, but suddenly, he felt like he could remember everything about him. They’d been so close. So close. He felt like throwing up again.

The scream only stopped when Eddie started to speak.

“Stanley!” Eddie exclaimed, mirroring Richie’s thoughts. He didn’t seem scared right now, only angry. “Pennywise knew. He knew before we did!”

“We have to stop him!” Mike said, spurred on by their discovery. But everyone else was still shocked and disgusted, horrified at the thought that one of them, one of their own, was now nothing more than an empty chair. The empty chair between Richie and Eddie...Richie almost heaved at the thought and realized he needed to think about something else. Anything else. “I have a plan!” Mike continued.

“No! I have a plan!” Richie interrupted, knowing the best way to distract himself was to talk and make a bad joke. “Let’s get the fuck out of dodge before this ends worse than one of Bill’s books. Whose with me?” His eyes lingered on Eddie for a brief second, who put his own hand up in agreement. They both wanted out and back to their normal lives where they didn’t have to pretend to be something they’re not just because they were scared. Sure, maybe Richie would have a headache every so often because of the constant screaming in his ears, but they’d be alive!

“We made a promise to each other!” Mike replied, shrugging his shoulders in annoyance.

“Well let’s unmake the promise!” Richie retorted, not knowing how else to respond. He couldn’t explain it to the others. If he was alone and not married, maybe then it would be different, but it wasn’t alone. He had Eddie. This screaming in his head sounding like Eddie...they already lost Stanley. He couldn’t lose him too. He wouldn’t be able to bare it.

“Richie,” Ben called out, looking solemn and nervous. “Other people are going to die.”

Like that fucking helps?! Richie wanted to scream. That makes it worse!

“Other people die every day, man!” Richie yelled back. “We don’t owe this town shit!”

Eddie wasn’t pacing anymore, he was just standing next to Richie and glancing back and forth between him and the other losers. He knew what Rich meant by not owing the town. The town that thought a disgusting massacre of a gay man was ok. Was deserved. Was welcomed. No. Richie was right. They didn’t owe Derry shit.

“I just remembered that I grew up here like 2 hours ago!” Richie continued his tirade, not letting anyone else get a word in like usual. He and Eddie seemed to be on the same page as they started to turn around and head towards their rental cars together. “So I’m fucking leaving! Fuck this!”

“Sorry man,” Eddie said, shrugging as he walked away. “I’m with Richie.” He meant that in more ways than one, of course, but hoped that the others didn’t catch on to the double meaning of the phrase.

“Eddie please!” Mike said, clearly trying to get Eddie to stay.

“What? We stay and we die? That’s it?” Eddie muttered, his voice picking up speed as he talked. A nervous habit he never outgrew. He reached out and put both hands on Mike’s shoulders in a solid way, trying to get his point across to him. It didn’t seem to work. “I’m going to go back to my car, back to the inn, pack up my shit, and drive away. I’m sorry man.” And then he turned and marched away, a man on a mission.

Richie was already in his car, but of course he wasn’t planning on leaving until Eddie had made it into his own. He felt significantly better looking out the window and seeing his husband walking away from Mike the group, walking towards the safety of their cars where they would inevitably end up back on the road to the airport and be in bed together by tomorrow. They could forget this whole thing ever happened, and something told Richie that if they did leave, they really would forget all of this.

All for the better.

They peeled out of the parking lot together, Eddie not wanting to let Richie out of his sight this time.

They arrived at the town house at the same time as Ben and Bev, much to Richie’s dismay as he’d rather he and Eddie have gotten there alone and left alone so nobody would question the fact that they weren’t leaving each others sight for a second.

“Let’s get our shit and get the fuck out of here,” Richie said, glancing back at Eddie pointedly. Eddie attempted to cover up Richie saying ‘our’ at Eddie by directing his next question at Ben...while still following Richie up the stairs.

“Did you leave your stuff here?” he asked. He was sure Ben answered, but to be quite honest, and quite rude, he didn’t really care to hear the response. He was too focused on making sure he was close enough to Richie.

They made it up the stairs and went straight into Eddie’s room, slamming the door behind them.

“What the fuck!” Richie screeched, throwing himself down onto the bed unceremoniously. “What is wrong with this place?”

Eddie was chewing on his lip as he went into the drawers in his room and began tossing everything back into his large suitcases. He didn’t have an answer for Richie’s rhetorical question, but the closest thing he could think of was simply Pennywise. Pennywise is whats wrong with this place. Suddenly, he froze, his hands twisted up in a shirt he was holding. Before he could stop himself, he realized tears were beginning to cloud his vision, not falling but still there none the less. Eddie gripped the shirt tighter, willing the tears to stop before Richie could notice.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Richie to see him crying, but Eddie knew he was crying because of Stan. Richie didn’t need to think about Stan right now until they were far away from Derry and the fucking clown. In his mind, he saw the three of them, all kids again. Richie, Eddie, and Stan. They were all outcasts among the outcasts. The scaredy cats. The others were braver than them but Richie, Eddie, and Stan? They weren’t nearly as brave as the others.

“Eddie, hurry!” Richie called out with a stupid whining tone, sitting up. “Do you want some help?”

Eddie ignored him and immediately went into the bathroom and began throwing everything he could grab into his suitcase. If he focused on packing and ignored the nagging thoughts of Stanley, he would be fine. He and Richie would leave and be fine. He focused all of his attention on the items he brought in his large toiletries bag.

The medicines and the extra towels and the lotions and the...

He stopped again, a new question chewing at his mind.

“Richie,” he called quietly, staring down at the sink in front of him. He heard a grunt from the main section of the room that meant that his husband was listening at least half way. “Um...where did you go tonight? What happened after you left the town house? I got to the restaurant and you weren’t there...”

He felt arms snake around his waist and he looked up into the bathroom mirror, his eyes landing on Richie’s who was leaning his chin onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t drive,” Richie admitted. “I was trying but then the screaming in my head got so loud. I couldn’t see straight and I had to pull over. I didn’t want to crash. Eds, it felt like I only sat there for a few seconds but when the screaming stopped and I looked up, so much time had passed. I was worried about you. I didn’t want you to be scared.”

“I’m always scared,” Eddie mused lightly. “Especially in Derry.” But he was glad that that was all that had happened. Richie pressed a kiss to his husbands temple before letting go and walking backwards.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here and go home,” he smiled, pointing two ridiculous finger guns at his husband. “I’m going to go grab my stuff. Hurry and meet me back downstairs ok? Hurry!”

“I love you, Rich,” Eddie said, turning around and facing his husband before he could leave.

“I love you too, my Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie called with a wave and a wink.

“Jesus CHRIST Rich! Don’t call me that now! It’s so weird!”

Chapter Text

Richie closed the door to Eddie’s room really slowly after grabbing his bag off of the floor. He didn’t want to leave his husband, but when he heard him yelling back at him about the dumb nickname, he knew they’d be ok for a few moments. And they had to hurry. They had to leave and fast.

Richie didn’t have much to pack back up since he’d left his main bag still packed in Eddie’s room, but he threw his toiletries into the bag as quickly as he could anyways. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

He knocked on the door to let Eddie know he was heading down and raced down the stairs with his single bag slung over his shoulder. Of course, he didn’t sense the tension in the bar room where Beverly and Ben were. He wasn’t good at that sort of thing. He just saw that they were in there talking and not looking like they were in a hurry.

“Whatever you guys are talking about, let’s make it faster. We gotta go,” he huffed, leaning into the bar room briefly before leaning back out and facing the stairs. Eddie still hadn’t made an appearance and Richie was getting very antsy. “Eduardo! Andale! Let’s go!”

He’s was about ready to throw their whole ruse out the window, run up the stairs, and carry Eddie out to the car bridal style. But then he caught a sentence in the conversation Bev and Ben were having and it shook him to his core.

“You knew how Stanley died,” Ben said, although it was as quiet as a whisper. “You knew.”

“Wait...What?” Richie asked, trying to keep his voice still as he leaned back into the bar room, but not all the way as he still wanted to see when Eddie would appear at the top of the stairs. He felt a rush of anger as the screaming picked back up in his ears again.

“I can't do this,” Beverly suddenly muttered, looking down at the floor and pushing past Richie. She looked absolutely horrified, but that didn't stop the anger pooling in Richie’s chest.

“She knew how Stanley was going to die? Is that what she just said?” Richie asked, staring at Ben. But the man ignored him, following Bev instead.

“You can’t just walk away from this!” he was saying, trying to get the panicking Beverly’s attention but she appeared set to ignore him. Richie was following them around now, not wanting to miss the rest of the conversation, but also not wanting to interject, lest his anger get the worst of him. He was not known to bite his tongue well once the anger got out of hand. Eddie often made him sleep on the couch if he said something a little over the line.

Beep, beep.

“Talk to me!” Ben continued his attempt to get Beverly to talk. “Like we used to! Come on! How did you know?”

Finally, Beverly froze in front of him, eyes glancing around nervously. She seemed desperate to look anywhere except for Ben and Richie’s eyes. But she finally spilled her secret anyways.

“Because I saw it,” she muttered, wringing her hands nervously. “I’ve seen all of us die.”

The anger in Richie drained away almost instantly, although the screaming stays in his ears, drowning the anger and replacing it with fear. Death? Sure, he’d considered it. He remembers thinking about it all those years ago outside of the stupid crackhouse. He could remember being inside, thinking he was going to die. Thinking Eddie was going to die.

And when he hears Bev say that she’s seen them all die, his first thought isn’t to ask how he dies. No. His mind immediately goes to Eddie.

“Ok!” a familiar voice calls out from the steps, accompanied by some loud clunking. “I just need to grab my toiletries bag and we can...go?”

All three of them were staring up at the stairs where Eddie had frozen, apparently able to sense the dread in the room. If Beverly or Ben were confused about why Eddie had two gigantic bags and still a third toiletries bag, neither of them said anything. Richie just stared up at his husband, a look of terror, confusion, and pure dude, what the fuck directed at Eddie.

“What did I miss..?” he asked, clearly confused.

Nobody answers for a solid minute, they all just stand and stare until finally, Richie moves. He didn’t know if this would’ve been a normal thing a friend would do after seeing his best friend for the first time in years, but he picks up the heavier of Eddie’s suitcases and carries it down the rest of the stairs, dropping it by the door with a huff.

“Well, tell him what he missed,” he says, turning back to the group and shoving his hands into his pocket. “And then explain it slowly so even I can understand.”

“Ah, right,” Beverly says, running her hand through her perfect, fire red hair. She walked into the bar room again, sitting down on the edge of the chair as the others followed in single file behind her. Ben passed the chair and immediately went behind the bar to pour himself a shot.

A minute ago Richie was rushing to get them out of this horrifyingly terrible town. Now it felt like they were stuck again, hanging under the possibility of a single word.

“I saw how Stanley died,” Beverly finally muttered again, sounding like she didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real. “I saw it in my head. And I know it doesn’t make sense but...I’ve seen us all die.”

“Ok! So what do you mean that you’ve seen us all die?” Eddie was pacing again, his hands shaking as he didn’t know what do with them if he couldn’t grab on to Richie for support.

“Yeah, because I’ve got to be honest,” Richie pipes up. Normally he’s waving his arms frantically, trying to illicit giggles from the surrounding people, but right now they were stuffed in his coat pocket. “That’s a fucked up thing to just drop on somebody.”

“Every night since Derry, I’ve been having these nightmares,” she continued, swiping quickly at her face so nobody would see the tear that fell from her eye. They all saw it of course. “People in pain. People dying. People...”

“So? You had nightmares!” Eddie rationed, stopping in front of the chair to look at her. “I have nightmares! People have nightmares! That doesn’t mean that your visions are true!”

Richie didn’t know what to say, staring at Eddie with his eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. He wasn’t wrong. Eddie did have nightmares. So did Richie. They always had but when they woke up, reaching for each other instinctively, neither could ever remember what the dreams were about. Now he wonders if they had been dreaming the same thing Beverly had. And in his gut, he knew that if they had, then the visions were real.

“I’ve watched every single one of us...” Beverly mumbled, sounding petrified beyond anything Richie had ever heard her sound before. Even before, when they were kids.

“S-seen everyone one of us...what?” None of them had heard Bill come in, Mike following close behind him almost like a dependent puppy.

“To the place that Stanley wound up...That’s how we end,” she replied, not even attempting to hide how wet her face was with the tears now. Richie knew that she never hid anything from good old Bill.

“How come the rest of us aren’t seeing this shit?” Richie finally exclaimed, breaking out of his staring stupor. He believed her, but god he didn’t want to. “What makes her so different?”

Why can’t I see how Eddie dies?

The question hangs in his head, as he can’t find a way to ask it without sounding like he cares too much. The ring he’s wearing on a necklace under his shirt feels like its burning his skin.

“The deadlights!” Mike says, seemingly coming to a realization. This sends Richie back into his speechless stupor, his eyebrows forced down again in a confused and painful expression. Deadlights.

“...deadlights,” Bill repeats.

Deadlights.

The word stings Richie’s mind painfully, the screaming almost as loud as it was in the car, echoing back and forth between his ears.

Deadlights.

He’s never seen them. They were supposed to look away. Never look at them. But for some reason, he feels like he can see something, bright pulsing in the back of his mind through a dark, rooted tunnel. It isn't a memory, but something else he can’t describe. A feeling?

“She was the only one of us that got c-caught in the deadlights that day,” Bill says, realizing it at the same time Mike did.

“We were all touched by It,” Mike said, getting excited that everyone was listening again. He came up, close to Richie, aiming his words directly at him. He could tell Richie was the one who wanted to get out of Derry the fastest, but they didn’t know that it was because Richie had the most reason to. “Changed! Deep down, like an infection or a virus!”

Eddie flinched at that. The phrase virus hitting a nerve in his chest and causing his heart to lurch. Virus. It sounded foul.

Ben pushed past everyone after swallowing another mouthful of random alcohol, and Eddie followed him, trying to ignore Mike before he threw up at the sound of the word virus. But as Mike kept talking, Eddie found himself turning around, mostly to check on Richie. It was unusual for him to not make a dumb joke or comment by now, but as soon as Eddie saw Richie’s face, he understood.

Richie appeared to be trapped in his own mind. It was probably the screaming again, but Eddie could also see a hint of something else. The damn emotional wall the Richie always puts up and hides behind was down, but only someone that really knew him could tell that his brain was running a million miles and hour at the moment. He seemed to be staring at nothing, and yet also staring at everything. He was thinking about something and he was thinking about it hard.

“That virus! It’s been growing for 27 years!” Mike called out, getting Eddie’s attention with that damn word again. “It just got to Stan first because-”

“Because he was the weakest,” Richie finished, still staring at the nothing.

“Jesus christ, Rich,” Bill huffed, angrily sticking up for his friend. His friend that didn’t need sticking up for anymore.

“I’m just saying what everyone else was thinking, man.” Before, Richie would’ve laughed or said this like he was pulling someones leg, but his voice wasn’t joking now. He wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even sound like he held any ill will. He just sounded...sad.

“Rich...come on,” Eddie mutters, really trying to look into Richie’s eyes. But Richie was still blankly staring at the ground.

“No! What Beverly sees, it will come to pass,” Mike said, taking the opportunity to stand up on a soapbox with everyones attention. “It’s what’ll happen to all of us eventually...unless we stop It.”

Richie shakes his head and steals himself behind the bar counter, head down and hunched over. He was willing everything to stop. All he could think of was shaking Bev and screaming at her, forcing her to tell him what happens so he can stop it. Every worst way for Eddie to die comes into his mind, and he feels sick.

They were supposed to leave! They were supposed to be gone by now and their way back to happily married bliss! But now, all he can think of is the possibility of Eddie dying before they could even get there and him not being able to do anything about it.

“How the hell are we supposed to do that?” Eddie’s angry, panicked voice piped up, cutting into Richie’s thoughts and reminding him that Eddie was fine. Eddie was right there, just out of his reach.

“...the ritual of Chud.”

The answer falls heavy on the group and Richie could feel his own mouth drop open. It sounded like some sort of weird cult thing. It didn’t sound real. He could hear Mike talking but none of it made sense. They just sounded like rambling words at this point. It hurts his head more than it already did. The screaming was so loud. So loud. And all of this sounded ridiculous.

“A tribal ritual?” he finally interrupts, voice dripping acid. Normally he's either joking or he’s quiet. He doesn’t usually let his emotions effect him in public like this, but he couldn’t help but let everyone know how stupid this whole thing is. “Are you fucking kidding me, man? There has to be another way!”

He’s aware that he’s rambling now. He doesn’t stop.

“Alright, this thing comes back what...every 27 years? Let’s kick the can down the road and do it then.”

It’s a dumb response and the screaming in his head lets him know. Eddie’s screams in his head. The Eddie in real life lets him know too, never afraid to inform Richie of when he’s being stupid.

“Wait, we’ll be 70 years old, asshole!” he exclaims, sounding angry. Richie tries not to take it to heart, seeming as they are all freaking out and the anger isn’t directed at him, but the bit of harshness in his tone makes Richie freeze again, unable to speak.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Beverly interrupts. Damn Beverly, cursed with knowledge. “None of us make it another 20 years and the way it happens...”

Richie thought he would pass out. Eddie dies within the next 20 years? And apparently it’s pretty gruesome? Rather than passing out, Richie pours himself a shot of whatever Beverly had left out on the bar and shoves the entire contents of the glass down his throat.

“If we don’t beat it this cycle, then...” Ben mutters, staring at Beverly like she's a lifeline.

“Then we die.”

“...horribly,” Eddie added. Richie glared at his husband without turning his head all the way.

“Yeah, I don’t need the horribly part,” he mumbled, trying to build his emotional wall back up so he could crack a joke or something. But his emotions were out in the open to Eddie and he was hurting. He was scared, eyes staring blankly ahead.

“I didn’t say it...she said it. Not me,” Eddie huffed, but the apology was in his tone as he continued pacing.

“Alright guys, look. I’ve seen It,” Mike said, trying to get the attention again. They didn’t want to listen though.

“I’ve seen w-wh-what he’s talking about,” Bill spoke up when he noticed that nobody was wanting to listen to the ramblings of Mike. But they were willing to listen to Bill. When Bill spoke, you knew that he had something important to say. “And it’s all true. It’s the only way. And if we want this ritual to work...”

“We have to remember,” Mike cut in. If Richie was in a better mood, or had his emotional wall back up, he would’ve commented on how Bill and Mike were finishing each others sentences like an old married couple. But he doesn’t for two reasons. One, because he’s afraid to draw attention to even the slightest possibility that any of them could be married to each other. Even in a joking manor. Two, because he instead asks the question everyone was wondering.

“Remember what?” he asks, trying not to sound angry but knowing he would anyways. He sounded so icy.

“It’s better if I show you,” Mike said, apparently not taking his anger to heart. He sounded too calm. “We don’t have much time. The cycle will end soon and once it does....”

“...we’re fucked.”

Richie really chokes down the need to comment on Bill finishing Mikey’s sentence again, this time opting to shove another shot down his throat instead. He’s probably drank more tonight than he did in his entire college career.

“I’m cutting you off,” Eddie sighs after he stopped his pacing to walk over to the bar and take Richie’s shot glass away, sliding it down the length of the bar. “We don’t need you passing out in the middle of the fucking ritual.”

Richie’s eyes shot up and stared straight into Eddie’s, making sure he had heard his husband right. If the other losers had been in better mental conditions at the moment, they would’ve seen the weird look that Richie gave Eddie. A mix of confusion and hurt and so much fear.

“I...I need to go to the bathroom.”

The words came tumbling out of Richie’s mouth before he even knew what he was saying and he staggered up and away from the bar. His legs seemed to be moving faster than his brain, but the further away from the group of losers he got, the quieter the screaming became in his head and that was reason enough for him to keep going up to Eddie’s room. He could barely make out Eddie’s voice down in the bar room.

“I’m going to follow him and make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit...” he was saying. “Don’t leave without us.”

“It’s fine,” Mike nodded. “We’ll meet back here in 30 minutes, alright guys?”

Richie didn’t catch the responses as he had made it to Eddie’s room and was throwing the door open. A few seconds later, Eddie was there, his bags in his hands again, and Richie couldn’t stop himself.

He slammed the door shut behind Eddie and threw himself into his husband’s arms, his hands grasping for the back of his jacket for something to hold on to.

“Rich...Richie calm down. It’s ok,” Eddie mumbled gently, dropping his bags and wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Richie this messed up before. Sure there were some fights here and there but never over anything serious. And there were a few tearful nights in college when Richie was trying to come to terms with his sexuality publicly, but other than that...Richie was too good at hiding everything. Eddie wished he would crack a joke right now and tell him that everything was fine. He doesn’t.

“You really want to stay?”

“You really think we have another option?”

Richie doesn’t let Eddie go. Holding him like this, he can almost forget the quiet screaming in his head. He can almost forget the fear and the pestering knowledge that if they leave now, they get less than 20 years together. Probably way less with their luck. He can almost forget...but he doesn't.

“I know we don’t,” he says burrowing his face down into Eddie’s shoulder. “Doesn't mean I have to like it. This shit is crazy. It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes any sense, Eds.”

“I know...I know, Richie.”

“We have to stay, don’t we?”

“I’m sorry.”

Richie is sorry too. Sorry that he didn’t ask Beverly what exactly she saw happen to Eddie.

He twists his fingers even tighter into Eddie’s shirt.

Chapter Text

30 minutes later, the losers found themselves following Mike silently through the streets. None of them drove seeming as they were worried to be separated. Plus Mike explained that they would need to abandon the cars at some point to actually reach their destination so it was better to walk anyways.

They walked in silence, Richie clinging to the memory of holding Eddie mere minutes ago. He couldn’t hold him now but he was not about to let Eddie get too far from him, not with the threat of possible death looming over them. He walked next to him through the town, hands shoved in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out. And when the losers fell into a straight line, he walked behind Eddie, making sure he didn’t trip or fall. If they were alone, Eddie would tell him how paranoid and clingy he was being, a trait Eddie usually displayed.

But Richie couldn’t help it. If they weren’t going to leave Derry now, then they needed to fix everything now so they could get back to their lives.

It was odd, the sensation of walking through the town like this. The sun was coming up, so they could see everything clearly. Richie was surprised that he didn’t feel very tired, seeming as they hadn’t gotten any sleep. He was too amped up on fear, he supposed. As they walked, he felt familiar sensations swirling. Memories and ghosts of the past danced in and out of his mind. A store he’d gone to frequently. An alley where he and Eddie had sat eating ice cream. A grassy field that they had played in. And finally, a forest filled with distant memories.

“The Barrens,” Beverly breaks the silence. As soon as she says it, Richie remembers every single thing about this place. A lot of the memories of Derry came slowly, like a dripping faucet. This was like a dam broke.

“This is where we came after the rock fight.” Ben had a soft sort of smile on his face. He was proud of this place and everyone knew why. The rock fight was pivotal for them as friends. As family.

“The club house,” Richie exclaimed quietly, staring at the forest floor, searching. So many visions. Comics. Games. Posters. A hammock.

Oh god. The hammock.

“You built that for us,” Beverly laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. The hatch has to be around here some place,” Richie muttered, continuing to walk through the forest, eyes searching for a sign of anything. He heard Beverly trip, but saw out of the corner of his eye that Bill had caught her, so he left them to their own devices as he searched.

Richie found himself genuinely smiling for the first time in hours. The hammock. He definitely remembered the hammock. He and Eddie used to end up in it together no matter what. Either Eddie would climb in yelling about some annoying time limit or Richie would jump on Eddie as he had just fallen asleep to take a nap. Either way, he couldn’t believe that Eddie hadn’t seen it back then. Or that he hadn’t seen it back then. They didn’t start dating until college, but it looks like their attraction had been going on for a lot longer than that.

“You know what?” Ben suddenly called from a few feet ahead. “I actually think the door was-”

A loud creak and then a crash sounded, followed by Ben’s sudden disappearance. The losers hardly had time to react, everyone racing for the edge of the hole that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, before Ben called out.

“Found it! I’m ok!” His voice sounded gruff, but fine, causing Eddie to heave a sigh. He could see the dust and dirt floating around the air, having exploded out of the newly created hole. “Come down!”

One by one, they climbed down the small wooden ladder, Richie following Beverly. Eddie went last, wanting to make sure the old ladder would hold everyone without breaking before he risked it. He found it funny that everyone had to duck their heads down to walk around in the dirty, old room.

The room shouldn’t be this well preserved. Ben had built it as a child out of old wood and dirt. After all of this time, Eddie found it weird that it hadn’t broken down and the posters on the wall were still readable. Eddie reached down to pick up a small, dusty ball that was discarded in a crack on the floor. It was something so small that you normally wouldn’t remember, but this memory was crystal clear to him.

”You broke it with your face.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, so quietly that nobody else would’ve heard it. He could be a real dick sometimes, and while he had mellowed out the older he got, he still wasn’t always a ray of sunshine when he got worked up. He was surprised the losers wanted to put up with him, and Richie even now.

But his thought was cut off suddenly.

“Hey, losers...” a raspy, grotesque voice called out from a secluded and darkened corner of the underground club house. Eddie turned suddenly, eyes wide as he immediately searched for Richie. His heart was practically pounding in his ears as he imagined every single bad thing that could be hiding in the dark. But where is Richie? The voice lashed out again and this time...Eddie recognized it. “Time to float.”

Before Eddie could lash out, Richie came out of the darkness, a laugh already creasing his eyes.

“Dude!” Eddie all but screamed, glaring.

“Remember he used to say that shit?” Richie chuckled, looking at all of the losers one by one, waiting for one to crack a smile. “And then he’d do that little dance?”

Richie kept the grin on his face as held up his arms and did the dumbest recreation of a clown dance that he could manage, singing some stupid sort of circus jingle. Eddie dropped his head onto his hand, trying to resist standing up and slapping his husband. He knew that Richie could toe the line, but this was way over the line.

“Am I the only one who remembers this shit?” Richie asked, realizing that nobody was laughing and Eddie was practically fuming.

“Are you going to be like this the entire time we’re home?” Eddie yelled, trying to break the awkward silence. A few of the other losers grumbled their agreements with Eddie’s statement.

“Well, just trying to add some levity to this shit. I’ll go fuck myself.” Richie turned around to go investigate a different corner of the room, namely the hammock. He felt bad about his joke almost instantly, knowing with Eddie’s tone that he had crossed a line. But the alcohol he’d consumed all night was finally starting to wear off and he was trying to get back to his normal self...which included badly timed jokes.

Unfortunately, his mood dropped again as soon as Eddie called this place home. This wasn’t home anymore. It hadn’t been for years and returning to the town to see that it was still just as hateful towards people like them didn’t make it home now.

“It smells so fucking terrible in here,” he hears Eddie grumble. That made Richie feel a little better, glad that Eddie wasn't mad enough to ignore the must of the clubhouse.

“Hey you guys?” Bill says, capturing everyones attention. Richie turns and sees that Bill is holding an extremely old looking coffee can. “This...St-Stan. For the use of l-lu-losers only.”

Richie really wants to comment on Bill’s returned stutter, but doesn’t want Eddie to yell at him again.

“Bill...” Eddie mutters, shaking his head.

The memories are instant for all of them as Bill opened the can and pulled out a single shower cap.

”Stanley. We’re not afraid of fucking spiders.”

"The hammock! 10 minutes each was the rule!”

“I fucked your mom!”

“No you didn’t!”

“Stan, you should go with Mike to Florida.”

“Do you guys...still think we’ll be friends? When we’re older?”

“We’ll always still be friends. I-I don’t think that just g-goes away because we get older.”

“Yeah Stan. Come on. You don’t have to be so...”

“...sad.” Beverly sighed, a tear creeping down her cheek as she relived the same memory everyone else was reliving. Stanley. One of their very best friends.

“He was old before his time,” Ben noted, feeling the heaviness of the room and wanting to add something better to it. Something positive.

Richie watched the others out of the corner of his eye and a memory suddenly surfaces, slowly, like that dripping faucet again.

//

Richie was sitting on the bleachers, trying and failing to do some homework without getting distracted. He was waiting for Eddie and they were going to walk to his house together to hang out for a bit, but Eddie had a meeting with some teacher so Richie had to wait a bit. Not that he minded. He’d always wait for Eddie if it meant they could hang out together.

“What’s that?” The voice came from behind Richie and he wasn’t sure how he had let himself get so distracted that he didn’t notice Stan walk up the bleacher steps and get behind him. Richie glanced down at his notebook, realized he’d been scribbling a poorly drawn heart instead of answering some random math problem, and slammed his notebook shut.

“What’s up, Stan my man?” he asked, feigning a huge grin. Stan cocked an eyebrow questioningly, but didn’t act as if he’d seen anything unusual.

“I was heading out but saw you up here alone,” he said, instead. “You’re not out here on the field to start a sport, are you?”

“Me? A jock?” Richie laughed. “Keep dreaming, Stanley. I’m just waiting for Eddie.”

“That makes more sense,” Stan nodded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Richie exclaimed, getting unnecessarily defensive almost immediately.

“Nothing, Rich,” Stan shook his head. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Does it have to do with how you want to bang Mrs. Givens?”

“No, Richie!” Stan replied, giving one of his famous eye rolls. But he seemed used to Richie’s antics by now. “I just wanted to tell you something about birds.”

“Fucking birds? Stan-”

“Did you know over 130 species of birds display behavior different from what is considered typical normal behavior to humans?” he said anyways, ignoring Richie’s annoyed protest to being given a bird lesson. “It’s a completely normal thing they do without judging each other.”

“What are you rambling about, Stanley?” Richie asked, gripping his notebook tightly in his hands.

“Richie. We should all just seek to live a judgment free life and make ourselves happy. No matter what...or who makes us happy. Just stop being stupid and make yourself happy. Like birds!”

Then he dropped a small book down on top of Richie’s notebook before turning around and walking down the bleachers, waving nonchalantly behind him. It was a book titled Geese of Asia with a note taped to the front. The note only read ‘Greylag’.

“See you later, Rich!”

//

“I wonder what he was like all grown up,” Eddie mumbles, breaking Richie out of the memory suddenly. But the reminiscence of the memory burned in his brain. Especially the memory of what he learned about greylag geese and what Stan had really been trying to tell him.

“Probably what he was like as a kid,” he found himself muttering, the smallest hint of a sad smile playing at his lips. He remembers feeling acceptance even though no real words were spoken between them about the subject. “The best.”

"Hey,” Bill’s voice calls out causing Richie to look up just in time to catch the shower cap that was launched at him. He looked at it before balling it up slightly in his hand.

“Alright, Mikey. What are we doing here?” he asked, suddenly feeling sick again with the plastic cap he'd never worn squished in his hands.

“The ritual,” Mike explained, sounding almost detached. It was as if he had recited this to himself before. “To perform it...requires a sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” Richie asked. He wanted to push the memory of Stan’s goose book out of his brain and down a drain where it would stop making him so depressed. What better way to do that than make another terrible joke? “I nominate Eddie.”

“What?” Eddie screeched, sounding confused. Richie immediately recoiled hearing Eddie’s tone of voice and tried to explain his bad joke.

“Because you’re small...you’ll fit on the barbecue,” he muttered, shrugging lightly with a slightly apologetic face.

“I’m 5′9! That’s average height for most of the world!” Eddie huffed, pushing past Richie semi-angrily. They’d had this argument before, about Richie being freakishly tall and not Eddie being freakishly short.

“It’s not that kind of s-sacrifice, guys,” Bill sighed, shaking his head before turning back to Mike and mumbling for him to continue.

“The past is buried,” Mike started, choosing his words carefully. He sounded like a teacher reciting a lesson plan to a bunch of students.“But you’re gonna have to dig it up. Piece by piece. And those pieces, the artifacts? That’s why we’re here. They are what you’ll sacrifice.”

Richie’s mind was reeling. Artifacts?

“And since Stan isn’t here to find his, I figured we should all be here together to find his artifact,” Mike continued, gesturing to the room. Everything that Stan had left in this room was all that they had left of Stanley.

“I think Bill just did that.” Eddie muttered, snapping his shower cap into place on his head.

Richie took one look at Eddie, wearing that stupid cap, and bolted for the ladder. He couldn’t get Stanley out of his head no matter how hard he tried. This room was full of their lost friend. He heard the others begin to shuffle behind him, but he felt like he would lose it if he didn’t get out now.

Ben was the last one to climb out of the hole in the ground, nobody asking Richie why he'd left so fast. Bill and Beverly were already sitting on the forest floor while Eddie and Richie opted to stand to the side. Once they were all out of the old clubhouse, Richie felt better, like he could actually breathe now without breathing in the loss of Stan.

“Ok Mike, so where do we find our tokens?” Eddie said, eager to move forward. He kept glancing at Richie, knowing something was up. And he had an idea of what it was.

“Yeah I gotta be honest, man,” Richie huffed, trying to prove to the others, as well as himself, that he was fine. “All due respect, but this is fucking stupid. Alright, why do we need tokens we already remember everything? Saving Bev, defeating It? We’re caught up.”

Plus, Richie wasn’t sure he wanted to remember anything else. Sure, there were some good memories. But some of these memories were just too painful to deal with right now. He didn’t want anymore. He just wanted to get this over with and go home.

“That’s not everything,” Mike continued, eyes darkening as he furrowed his brow. “We fought...but after that, before the house on Neibolt? Think!”

“We...c-ca-can’t remember,” Bill muttered, turning around to face the others from where he was sitting with Bev. And he was right. At the moment, all Richie could remember was being with the losers, going to the house, and Eddie breaking his arm. But then...there was nothing.

“See there’s more to our story. What happened that summer,” Mike nodded. “And those blank spaces, like pages torn out of a book? That’s what you need to find. We need to split up. We each need to find our artifact, alone. That’s important.”

Eddie’s head snapped up, immediately looking to Richie. Alone? No, no. They couldn’t do that. Richie had his eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head, clearly as upset by the idea of splitting up as Eddie was.

“Meet me at the library tonight,” Mike nodded. Eddie had to speak up since nobody else was.

“I gotta say, statistically speaking for a survival scenario, we are going to do much better as a group,” he exclaimed quickly.

“Yeah, splitting up would be dumb man,” Richie adds in. There was nothing he wanted to do less than let Eddie out of his sight right now, Beverly’s words about death echoing in his mind. “We gotta go together, alright. We were together that summer, right?”

“No! Not that w-wh-whole summer,” Bill points out, frowning.

”Eddie almost died!”

And in a sudden flash, while looking at Billy now, Richie remembers being punched in the face. Hard.

“Yeah...yeah.” Richie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I remember.”

“Rich, we need to do this the same way we did it back then,” Mike pressed, walking up to Richie and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “We can do this. We’re almost there and then this whole thing will be over.”

“Fine,” Richie shrugged his shoulder so Mike’s hand was removed. “We’ll do this your way but for the record, I officially hate this plan.”

Richie didn't feel like hiding the fact that he was staring at Eddie and Eddie was staring right back, his lips pulled tight into a thin line. Letting Eddie leave his sight right now was going to be a pure nightmare, but something in Richie’s mind made him think that this memory that he couldn’t quite reach, the memory that he was going to have to find....it’s a nightmare too.

Chapter Text

"You can do this, Rich. You got this. Everything's fine. I'm fine. Eds is fine. We're all fine. It's all good."

People might've thought he was crazy if they saw him walking down the street muttering to himself, but he didn't care. He needed to keep talking to make himself feel alive, to feel like he was still there. Nothing about this situation felt normal and a few days ago if you had mentioned any of this, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. But now, it felt so strange to think that he had even been able to forget this town. It felt like a black hole, sucking everything out of him and replacing it with an unnaturally nostalgic feeling.

Richie squeezed his eyes shut briefly, burning the image of Eddie into his mind before he came face to face with his destination. The movie theater.

It was practically falling apart, newspapers covering the windows and the walls caked with dirt and debris. Where there used to be brightly colored letters spelling out the current movie titles, instead there was only one message spelled out with the now dingy, darkened letters.

Thanks for the memories, Derry. Yeah, fuck that, Richie thought to himself. Derry could take it's memories and shove them right where the sun couldn't reach them.

Richie reached out slowly, stuffing his hand through an obvious hole in the newspaper clad window. Magically, his hand seemed to fit perfectly as he cured his wrist and reached for the handle, easily opening the door. Inside was even worse than the outside. Richie could practically hear Eddie complaining about how dirty the floors were and how many germs could sit inside a building that hadn't been cleaned in years. It was so odd to be in here now, years later, when it felt like he'd only been here yesterday. Derry was doing weird things to his brain and Richie could swear it was suffocating him.

He turned slowly, facing the eerily familiar machine. Street Fighter. It had always been his favorite game when he was younger and he couldn't help but feel like seeing the game so old and decrepit was a punch to the gut. He turned away from it and walked towards the other machine he was familiar with. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and half jokingly dropped it into the machine. He really hadn't expected it to work, but by some strange magic, it did.

With a clink, the game token dropped down into the collection slot.

"You're fucking good."

God, he remembered that kid nearly as clear as day. He was skinny and had curly hair. He honestly should've seen the family resemblance before it was too late, but he wasn't paying attention well enough. He had been distraught because...

"Eddie could've been killed!"

He wanted a distraction so that's why Street Fighter. The problem with Street Fighter is that it was only ever other boys that wanted to play and Richie wasn't in the mood to distract himself with other boys right now. In fact, he'd prefer to spend the day around tons of other girls so he could at least claim he'd gotten laid while he was away from the other losers. From Eddie.

He remembered the fear he felt when he first started thinking about Eddie that way. Now it felt almost silly to be scared that Eddie wouldn't want to be his friend or that he would even hate him. When he saw Eddie in front of It in the Neibolt house, he had snapped. That's what caused him to get punched by Bill before the losers split up. He knew he wasn't being fair to Bill, but he was scared. They all were but he was scared for Eddie.

So for a moment, he allowed himself to get distracted by another boy. Maybe this boy could take his mind off of Eddie and they already had Street Fighter in common. He was so stupid back in the day, like playing some games with a new kid would take his mind off of his Eds. When the game was over, the kid tried to leave.

Richie recognized his expression and he knew he wasn't seeing things. This kid was just as intrigued and nervous as he was back then. Perhaps there was something there, but Richie just wanted to play another game, just keep being distracted. And he was distracted. Distracted enough not to see Bowers and hear the way the new kids voice changed in an instant.

"I'm not your fucking boyfriend. You assholes didn't tell me your town was full of little fairies. "

That hurt. Seeing that kids face shift from possibly liking Richie to suddenly hating him. Of course this was Bowers cousin. Richie couldn't be lucky enough to try and distract himself with anyone else.

"Get the fuck out of here, faggot!"

He did, avoiding everyones eyes as he fell out the door. If this had been any other day, he would've had some stupid, witty comeback. But it wasn't. He was separated from his friends and all he could see was little Eddie making the same face Bowers cousin had. Eddie calling him a fairy or even a faggot.

Richie shook his head, and the room was empty again, dark and dirty. His hand hurt where he was grasping the token to his palm tightly so he forced himself to take a breath and relax his hand. Eddie was fine and Eddie didn't hate him. These memories from the past don't have any merit anymore. Bowers is gone. His cousin is gone. This arcade. It's gone.

Richie felt like crying, remembering all of the things he used to feel about himself. But he's ok. He's still here. Eddie is still here. His friends...well most of his friends...are still here.

Richie sucked in another breath and practically ran out the door, trying to ignore the feeling of being chased by the stares of his peers.

He didn't know where he was going at first, but he barely had time to think about it when he was suddenly at a familiar place. He'd been there many times with his friends but there was only one time he'd sat in front of the giant Paul Bunyan statue. The entire area was empty that day, which should've been a bad sign to him, as this park was rarely clear, especially on nice days out. He was distracted though, burying his face in his hands to try and block out the self hate and tears.

"Wanna kiss, Richie?" The voice was deep and gravely. He almost couldn't understand it.

He remembered looking up and panic settling into the pit of his stomach. He remembered turning and seeing the statue, impossibly close and mobile. It's mouth was open, screaming and jagged with long stakes of wood for teeth.

The current Richie squeezed his eyes shut again, shaking his head as he heard screaming. It wasn't a memory this time though, it was Eddie's screaming in his head again. It hadn't happened all day, but it was back now. Richie looked up at the statue and it was in it's normal place, smiling protectively at the rest of the town as if watching over it with his ax.

Suddenly, something was shoved into his hands. He hadn't been paying attention or listening, but he accepted the paper anyways as a common courtesy. But he was able to catch the next thing the person said as they rushed by. Richie looked up as the person spoke and turned to look at him.

"Hope to see you there, handsome," the mystery man said, turning his head just enough to grin at him. Richie gasped at the disgusting gash down the person's cheek and the sick grin that painted the mans face. Through the scaring and dirt, Richie recognized the face he'd seen on the newspapers. Adrian.

And just like that, he was gone.

Richie didn't want to, but he had to, like some morbid fascination. He looked down at the paper in his hands and almost threw up again. It was a fucking funeral pamphlet with his face on it. He remembered the missing posters from back in his memories. The missing posters with his own tiny, grinning face on them. Looks like It was skipping the missing and going right to the killing this time.

"Did you miss me, Richie?" The voice was so familiar but Richie didn't want to believe it. He jumped up, eyes scanning up the statue of Paul Bunyan before they landed on the clown. It was there, just as clear as broad daylight, sitting on the statues shoulder and holding a bunch of balloons in a triangle formation, like a red arrow begging for attention.

"Fuck...fuck..." he muttered under his breath, backing up slightly. The sounds of the park, music and laughing, seemed like they were fading away, leaving him alone with the high pitched cackling voice of the demon clown.

"Cause I missed you!" Pennywise crooned, eyes wide with glee. Richie's mouth dropped open. How could this be happening right now, in the daylight, surrounded by people? Suddenly, the clown's face fell into a sad sort of expression, almost wistful. The random change in It's expression was just as scary, if not worse, than the normal creepy smile on his face. "No-one wants to play with a clown anymore. Play a game with me, would ya? How about Street Fighter? Oh yes, you like that one don't you? Or maybe...truth or dare."

"Jesus!" Richie gasped, stepping back again. He wanted to run but he was frozen with fear.

"Oh you wouldn't want anyone to pick truth, though, would you Richie?" Pennywise continued with a disgusting grin. It was starting to drool, probably from the fear Richie was practically oozing with. As It spoke, it pushed off of the statue's shoulder, the red triangle of balloons lifting him up into the air as if he was light as a feather. "You wouldn't want anyone to know what you're hiding."

Richie's eyes widened and his fear expanded tenfold. It knew. It knew about him and It probably knew about Eddie too. Richie's hands were shaking now, wishing he had never left his husband alone. He couldn't even imagine whatever It was doing to him right now and he didn't want to. And if he hadn't been thinking so heavily about Eddie, what happened next would've made him laugh.

It started singing.

"I know your secret, your dirty little secret," Pennywise sang out, in a taunting tone as he floated closer and closer. The tune sounded like a cross between a nursery rhyme and a schoolyard taunt. The closer he got, the angrier he appeared, his face starting to twitch and shake unnaturally. "Oh, I know your secret. Your dirty little secret!"

As It landed in front of him, it should've been funny, except it wasn't. His childhood fear was right there, in a full form. Richie was just as tall as It now, and yet he was still unexplainably terrified.

"Should I tell you, Richie?" the taunting Pennywise laughed, It's buckteeth protruding from It's drooling mouth as it shook and stepped closer.

"This isn't happening. It isn't real!" Richie practically started screaming, closing his eyes and tightening his fists again. "It isn't real! This isn't happening!"

He had done this back in the day when he was attacked by the fucking statue and it had worked. When he opened his eyes, the statue was gone. So it should work again now, right?

He opened his eyes.

"Oh shit!"

Pennywise launched itself at him, mouth open with sharp teeth and face shaking impossibly fast, like some sort of rabid animal. Richie was not known for being very fast, but he ran fast now, screaming explicits and cursing his clumsy feet as he stumbled away at his top speed.

"Come back and play! Come back and play with the clown!"

Richie did not go back to play with the clown. He just kept running. He didn't even look.

"Dear god, please!" he grumbled as he ran towards the town house, the token clinking around in his pocket. "I don't know if anyone is listening, but please! Please let him be ok!"

Chapter Text

Eddie had really mellowed out the past few years, much like Richie had. But being back in this town made him feel more aggravated than he had in year.s He found himself stalking down the street like an angry man on a mission. And he was. He was furious. He and Richie were happily living their lives together, ignoring the problems of this town, and now they were forced back. Forced to stay here and get rid of the problem or they might die.

Then, he was slapped in the face with the color red. More specifically, a red balloon. At first it absolutely terrified, slapping at the offending color to get it away from him. That's when he noticed that it was just being held by a child.

"Ah! Asshole!" he all but yelled. Perhaps yelling at a random small child would make him feel better? No. It didn't have the same gratification as yelling at Richie.

Richie. He knew Rich like the back of his hand and he could tell that his husband was terrified of this place and terrified of separating from each other right now. To be honest, so was Eddie. When he had arrived at the restaurant and Richie wasn't there...

No, he didn't want to think about that. Richie had been fine then so he would be fine now. Right now, Eddie had to focus on the task at hand.

First, he had to decide on a token to bring to the library. When he thought of Derry, he thought of not being able to breathe. He thought of throwing his fanny pack as hard as he could but then going back to it later, succumbing to the weakness that was thrust upon him from the time he was born. This town, to this day, still made him feel weak. Delicate. So his token had to be...

He arrived at the pharmacy a lot faster than he remembered getting there as a kid. His legs were a lot longer, although Richie would say they weren't and then he would burst out into his loud laughter. Eddie shook his head, willing himself to stop getting distracted by thoughts of Richie. The faster he could get this done, the sooner they'd be back together and then they could leave once all of this is over.

The pharmacy was eerily similar to how he remembered, and he felt like a kid again walking in, prescriptions ordered by his mom sitting on the counter up ahead. He glanced around seminervously, walking into such a familiar place. The front counter was empty, nobody in sight.

"Hello-?" He called out, but stopped when he saw the back of an old man standing in the corner. He was moving his hand below where Eddie could see and then he lifted his finger, smelling it. Eddie cringed instantly, his face contorting into disgust. The man had apparently heard him though, as he turned around and stared at Eddie with an odd expression.

It was Mr. Keene, as clear as day. He looked exactly the same. Well, maybe not. He looked like his face could melt off of his face at any second. He had so many wrinkles and boils across his aged skin and his lips were almost impossible to discern with how chapped and wrinkled they appeared. Eddie found it ironic that a man that owned a pharmacy could age this badly and look so sickly. He slowly made his way over to the counter, a slight hobble to his step.

"Can I help you?" he wheezed out, licking his decrepit lips.

"I called in a prescription for Kaspbrak?" Eddie muttered, trying to keep his eyes off of Mr. Keene's lips.

"Kaspbrak?" the old man asked, slight recognition in his eyes.

"It's an inhaler," Eddie nodded. An inhaler. He didn't like ordering one, but it made perfect sense for his token. A reminder of Derry that Richie had helped him let go of. Mr. Keene turned away from him and started going through a small stack of familiar white paper bags.

"Eddie Kaspbrak?" he asked, stopping at a bag in the middle of the stack and pulling it out.

"Mhm. That's me," Eddie hummed, giving Mr. Keene an odd, tight lipped grin and taking the bag away from the old man as quickly as he could. He had the sudden feeling like he needed to leave. Eddie had his token, so he could go find Richie. But before he could turn and take off, Mr. Keene spoke up again.

"I remember you," he said, his voice raspy and quiet.

"Yep..." Eddie had to resist rolling his eyes. How could Mr. Keene not recognize him with all of the time he spent in there as a kid?

"How's your mom?" Mr. Keene asked, narrowing his eyes. He and Sonia had been fairly close back in the day, at least in kid Eddie's mind. They had been conspiring to give Eddie random sugar pills and empty inhalers his whole life, so they should've practically been best friends in his eyes.

"Well she died a few years ago," Eddie told him. "It's very sad. It was liver cancer-"

"What's that?" Mr. Keene cut in suddenly, seemingly ignoring Eddie's words as soon as he said that his mother was dead. He was glaring at Eddie's cheek, his cracked lips hanging open, which was extremely uncomfortable for Eddie.

"What's what?" he asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"That." Eddie nearly screamed when Mr. Keene jabbed a finger into his face. All he could think about was whatever Mr. Keene had been touching and smelling earlier, and now he was jabbing that into Eddie's cheek. Then, he started squeezing and Eddie realized what he was talking about.

"Ah. No, it's fine," Eddie sighed, trying not to gag as he watched Mr. Keene lick his nearly nonexistent, chapped lips. "It's not going to pop, it's a mole."

"It might not be cancer," the man hummed sort of to himself but loud enough that Eddie could hear.

"Cancer?" Eddie's eyes widen suddenly. He remembered the fear he felt when his mom called him about the cancer in her liver. Richie had stayed with him as he went through several tests. He had expected Richie to try and talk him out of the tests, but his husband seemed to know that he needed them to set his mind at ease. Of course he was cancer free and he settled down after the results came back, but his mother, who feared losing Eddie more than anything, was lost to cancer. And that would way heavily on Eddie's fears the rest of his life.

"Ah, but it might be," Mr. Keene said, slapping Eddie's face gently. "You just stand here. I'll go get you something."

"...ok." He couldn't help himself. He felt even more like a child again than he already had. His mom had always told him that something was wrong with him and he just believed her. He could hear Richie. It had been two years into their college life together when Richie forced him into counseling and made him talk to someone about all of the shit his mother had put him through. She had done all of that just to control him and now that he's back in her domain, she was still controlling him from beyond the grave.

As he stood there, waiting patiently like he would've as a child and that's when he heard it.

"Eds! Eddie, help me!"

"Richie?" Eddie asked, nearly giving himself whiplash with how fast he turned his head. It was definitely Richie's voice coming from the door in the corner of the pharmacy. It was dark and Eddie could remember going down there once before. In fact, it was a similar experience to this.

"Eddie, hurry! Fucking help me!"

He should've thought about it and figured out that it was a trick, but hearing Richie screaming for help flipped a switch in him and he forgot everything. He knew that if he was in trouble, Richie would come running, but he couldn't do that. Being in this pharmacy made him feel so delicate and scared. He slowly walked towards the open doorway, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching him.

"Eds!" Richie's voice came screaming up from the dark stairs behind the doorway. The scream was followed by a series of wracking coughs that made Eddie shake to his core. Damn this town.

"..Rich?" he called down softly, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

"Eddie! Eddie, they're hurting me!" the voice of Richie called. It sounded so loud yet so far away. "They're killing me! Steven is killing me!"

"Fuck," Eddie sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before beginning his decent into the shop basement.

He had memories pushing to the surface. Walking down the stairs, he remembered his mother yelling for him. He'd been really scared back then, but this was worse. Back then, his mother was all that he knew he should love and he didn't choose her. But Richie...he chose Richie. Sometimes he wondered why he chose Richie, but then he remembered how much Richie stood up for him as a kid, helped him heal when he finally got away from his mother, and taught him his own real strength.

His real strength which seemed to dissipate the further down the stairs Eddie went...

"Richie..?" he called out when he reached the basement. There was no response. The basement was just like he remembered from childhood. Dark, damp, and dirty. Broken bottles littered the shelves, some filled with oddly colored medicines and liquids. The florescent lights in the ceiling looked as though they hadn't been replaced in years. In front of him was a familiar, gross looking curtain covering the back half of the room.

"What's all this shit doing here? Why is that curtain still here?" Sure, Richie was the Trashmouth, but Eddie could never stop talking and he normally talked fast. Even if there was nobody around, he needed to talk to try and calm himself down. It was something he started doing at a young age, but his therapist in college told him it was normal for people with trauma. Sometimes he pretended he was talking to Richie, who clearly was not actually down here. It was some stupid trick the clown was using, which was scary because that meant the clown knew. It knew. "Ok. Alright. You can do this Eds."

He would never in a million years admit to anyone that he called himself Eds when he needed to be brave. And he needed to be brave now as he remembered what was behind that curtain the first time he was down here.

"Don't leave me Eddie!"

He left her. It wasn't actually her of course, but he left her anyways. He was too delicate.

"It's just a memory. It's a memory. You're fine," he mumbled to himself as Eddie forced himself to slide closer and closer to the striped curtain. Curse Mike for habing them go back and face their own worst demons. All of this just to get an inhaler. "Deep breath. Ok. Can I do it?"

Eddie closed his eyes, reached out slowly, and...shoved the curtains apart.

Nothing. There was nothing there. No creepy chains, no husband strapped to a weird chair, and no demon leper. It was just more odd looking medical equipment and bottles. All completely normal things you would find in an old, albeit creepy, pharmacy basement. Eddie heaved a sigh, almost smiling at how ridiculous this had all been. And then he turned to leave.

The monster came from seemingly nowhere, it's tongue sticking out of it's oozing lips as it reached for Eddie's face. It's skin was a sickening shade with his eyes were so sunken into it's face that he could hardly see them.

"Ah! Shit! Oh fuck! Shit!" Eddie screamed, backing up as far as he could until he slammed up against the . The demon leper followed him, moaning loudly as he grabbed Eddie's head with his thin, bony fingers. It's tongue as longer than he remembered, stretching out towards him. Eddie tried to shift his hand to get an upper hand on the leper, but instead just gouged his finger into the eye socket of the being, squirting some sort of disgusting bodily fluid out. He resisted the urge to gag, instead shifting his hands again as he struggled to keep the diseased monster away from him.

"The diseases are all in your head. Or more like your moms head."

He used to hear his mother in his head, warning him about all of the things he shouldn't be doing. But now, all he could hear was Richie explaining to him that he didn't need to fear the world. He didn't need the medicines. He didn't need his inhaler. He didn't need his mother. Hell! He didn't even need Richie!

Suddenly, the monster's hands started to weaken and it's tongue seemed to stop its ravenous assault. Eddie was shocked for a second, but when he realized what was happening, he didn't question it. Instead, he took advantage of the weakness presented in front of him and started to push back. He is strong! He isn't delicate and he doesn't need all of those damn gazeb- fuck. Placebos!

The monster was against the opposite wall now, gurgling and gasping for air against Eddie's hands around his neck. It's tongue had almost receded into it's mouth again and Eddie suddenly felt more powerful than he'd ever felt before. Richie would be so proud and that thought made Eddie start smiling, grinning as he squeezed his hands around the demon lepers as tight as he could.

He was going to do it! He was going to beat it!

"Fuck you!" he yelled, watching the leper shrink back in it's own weakness. He was going to kill it! "Fuck you!"

He wasn't sure what it was, but suddenly it was all over his face, dripping down onto his shoulders and arms. It was thick and black, smelling vaguely like a truck stop bathroom. Eddie was sure his mouth was open when the liquid hit his face, but he chose to ignore that at the moment. He couldn't see because the liquid was covering his eyes, but when he was finally able to rub his face and blink through the disgusting goop, he saw that the monster was nowhere in sight. Which meant it could be anywhere.

"What the fuck!" His brain went into hyper drive as he turned and took off for the stairs. He glanced around as he ran, terrified all over again that the monster was going to come out of nowhere. He couldn't even think of how he had managed to be brave enough to choke the thing, and now he was running like his life depended on it. Maybe he hadn't actually been choking it? Maybe it was messing with him and now It was just mad?

Eddie made it up to the floor level, running for the door screaming. His entire body was covered in the dirty, black soup of a liquid but he didn't care if others saw anymore. He just wanted to leave and get to Richie as fast as he could. And probably a shower, but mostly Richie! Unfortunately, the front door was locked and he was pulling as hard as he could trying to release himself from the hellish prison that was his childhood pharmacy.

"Stop!"

"What?" Eddie stopped pulling, noticing that someone was right next to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized her, but he didn't care enough at the moment to figure out who it was. She looked at him like he was literally the biggest idiot she'd ever seen. No. She looked at him like he was the biggest loser she'd ever seen.

"It's a push, not pull, you moron," she huffed, leaning against the wall and eyeing Eddie suspiciously. For some reason, that news made him chuckle to himself. He wasn't trapped in the demon leper's pharmacy, he was just being stupid.

"Oh. Thanks!" he practically yelled, pushing open the door and running for the town house as fast as he could. He was getting odd looks from every direction, but all he cared about was getting to Richie and the little paper bag in his pocket with an inhaler filled with fake medicine.

Chapter Text

Richie was frantic as he raced back to the town house. The tricks they used as kids weren't working anymore. He couldn't just blink and the monster be gone. No the monster was stronger this time. He couldn't help but think it was because he was more afraid now than ever. He had more to lose than he did back then. He was hiding his true self and lying to the losers again and It was taking advantage of that, manifesting Itself even stronger. He couldn't protect anyone from It this time.

He was terrified.

When he pushed the door to the town house open and rushed inside, he was in a worse mood than he had been in ages and he was sure that it was showing. No jokes and no smiles this time.

Beverly and Ben were sitting on the stairs probably having a moment, but he didn't much care. He was done playing It's game. Richie would wait for Eddie and then they would go home to live out whatever time remained because it had to be better than getting mauled to death by a clown in a sewer singing about how gay they are.

"Move," he said, pushing past them on the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Beverly asked, concern clear on her face.

"I'm leaving," he replied, shortly. They both jumped up at that, eyeing him widely.

"What? You can't leave man!" Ben yelled out, turning to watch Richie go up the stairs with his hands shoved in his pockets. "We split, we die!"

"Yeah I'll take my chances," Richie replied, shaking his head and continuing up the stairs. "We're gonna die anyway."

"Rich!"

He didn't stay to listen, he just went up to his room, hoping that Eddie had already made it back and would be on the same page as he was. Unfortunately, Eddie was not there. Richie tried not to freak out about it as he paced his room. After a few seconds of pacing, Ben burst into his room. Richie could tell he was trying to stay calm, but Richie wasn't in the mood to discuss this with anyone except Eddie.

"Rich! You can't go. You know you can't," Ben started, standing directly in Richie's path so he was forced to stop pacing. "If you leave, we could all die without you. You know Eddie could die if yo-"

"Don't you dare fucking bring him into this!" Richie yelled, crossing his arms. Ben was always intuitive back in the day and Richie knew he wasn't stupid. He doubted that Ben had figured out to what extent they were hiding, but he definitely figured out something in the short time they'd all been back together. "He has nothing to do with this!"

That was a bold faced lie and they both knew it.

"Then why are you still here? Why haven't you left yet?" Ben pressed, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Come on, Rich. You know you can talk to us about anything. You can trust us. Losers stick together."

For the first time since he'd arrived in Derry with Eddie, his fear and anger subsided, giving way to a conflicted thought. He could trust them. He could tell them about everything. They wouldn't care, infact Beverly would probably be giddy over the news.

"...a young, openly gay, asthmatic man found torn to pieces with body parts missing."

"FAG DESERVED IT"

The fear was back as quickly as it had left. No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk it and he was too scared to even try.

"Richie!" Eddie burst into the room suddenly, but stopped short when he saw that Ben was in there. That didn't stop Richie's mouth from dropping open at Eddie's appearance. He was covered in what looked like mud and dirt and possibly grey water. Richie's mind was going a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out what happened and he practically forgot that Ben was even there.

"Eddie! What the fuck!" he screamed, leaping off of the bed and racing towards his husband. He gently rubbed at Eddie's face with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to remove whatever substance was covering him.

"It's fine! I'm fine!" he exclaimed, nervously looking past Richie and at Ben. He really wished that Ben wasn't in here because he wanted nothing more than to collapse into Richie's arms and scream about everything that had just happened. "What's going on in here?"

"Oh! Uh..." Richie mumbled, turning slightly to look at Ben out of the corner of his eye. Then he turned back to Eddie, looking at him pointedly. "I'm leaving."

"Rich!" Ben exclaimed as Eddie stared at Richie in shock.

"Seriously?" he asked, trying to convey as much as he could through his expression as Richie continued attempting to wipe the muck off of his face unsuccessfully. He immediately started running through ways to get Ben out of the room without being too obvious about it. "What happened to you out there?"

"...I don't want to talk about it," Rich replied, dropping his hands to his side suddenly and squeezing his hands into tight fists. "It doesn't matter anyways. What happened to you? You look like shit. You should go clean up in your room."

"Thanks, asshole," Eddie frowned, but Richie was giving him another very pointed look that told him to agree, so he nodded and walked to the door. "I'll be in the shower scrubbing every inch of my body."

When he was gone, Ben finally walked up, putting a firm hand on Richie's shoulder.

"I get that you're scared and I won't press you to find out what happened," he started. "But Richie, we need you. Eddie needs you. You have to stay. Just wait until Bill comes back and we'll all go to the library together. We won't separate anymore and if we're together, we'll all be fine."

"You're right," Richie sighed, reaching up and shoving Ben's hand off of his shoulder. "Eddie needs me."

"Yes! Yes, you'll stay?" Ben exclaimed, grinning widely.

"Fine," Richie nodded, backing up until he was sitting on the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.

"Yes! Thank you, Rich!" Ben continued, going towards the open door. "I'll go tell Bev and you come down when you're ready. Bill should be here soon and then we'll be on our way! Don't worry. Everything is going to work out!"

"Yeah. Sure, man," Richie nodded, still with his face in his hands. "I'll be down in a minute."

As soon as Ben was out of sight, Richie jumped up, grabbed his bag and ran across the hallway to Eddie's room, slamming the door shut as soon as he was inside. Eddie was pacing the room, knowing that Richie would show up as soon as possible.

"Ric-" he started to say, but he was forced into silence when Richie threw himself at Eddie, wrapping him up in his arms and pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips quickly. Eddie wanted to kiss him back, but all he could think about at the moment was the disgusting black goop still covering his face, so he gently shoved Richie away from him after the chaste peck. "Rich! I'm gross! Don't touch me!"

"I don't care, Eds!" Richie exclaimed, pulling Eddie closer and burying his face into his hair. "Come on. We have to leave as soon as we can. It's stronger now and the old tricks aren't working. If we leave now we can live the rest of our 20 years complet-"

"Richie stop!" Eddie huffed, pushing Richie away gently so he could look him in the eyes. "We can't leave! We don't even know if we get 20 more years. We can't leave now! I know you're scared, but listen, I was able to-"

"We don't have time for this!" Richie frowned, letting go of Eddie and going to pick up his bag again. "Grab your bags and come on!"

"You're not listening to me, Rich!" Eddie sighed angrily, his eyebrows furrowed. "You never listen when you get like this. Look, I was worried about you so we are not separating again. But I was able to really get into It's head for a minute! I actually had it in my hands and I felt so much stronger than It. Richie, I think we can do this!"

"Well I'm glad you had such a great experience-" Richie huffed.

"I wouldn't call it great...I'm covered in demon puke."

"-but I couldn't do anything to It. All I could do is run away before it bit my fucking head off," Richie explained. "I used to be able to just blink It away like It was nothing, but it didn't work this time. It's stronger. So we have to go."

"It's stronger, but so are we, right?" Eddie retorted, getting more and more upset as the conversation kept going. "We can't just leave everyone else!"

The angrier Eddie got during the conversation, the more scared Richie became. He had hoped Eddie would be ready to leap into his car and get the hell out of there, but Eddie seemed to be on the completely opposite page at the moment.

"Eds! I can't protect you," Richie muttered, collapsing onto the bed. "I could barely protect myself out there."

"But we're together now!" Eddie said, sitting down next his husband and taking his hand gently. "We can protect each other, that's the whole point of everyone getting back together!"

"But we aren't all back together!" Richie suddenly said loudly, turning his head sharply.

"Rich, what are y-"

"Stanley! We don't have fucking Stanley!" Richie continued. "How are we supposed to stop It without him? Lucky seven, right? Lucky seven!"

"Rich..." Eddie squeezed Richie's hand, trying to comfort him but Richie just pulled his hand away, clearly upset.

"Are you coming with me or am I going alone?"

"What?" Eddie exclaimed, nearly falling off of the bed in surprise. "You're kidding right?"

"No. I'm fucking leaving, Eds," Richie said, standing up with his bag again. "Come with me or don't!"

Eddie's eyes were wide with shock. He was so ready to get back to Richie after separating, but now that they were back together, Richie just wanted to leave again. Sure, Eddie could go with him, but he knew they couldn't leave Derry yet.

"What the fuck, Richie!" Eddie yelled, his temper getting ahead of himself as it usually did. "They need us!"

"Fine," Richie frowned. "You stay and I'll go."

"Richie!"

But it was too late, Richie was practically running out the door, not even bothering to look back at his husband. Eddie stood shocked for a few seconds before he turned towards the bed, grabbed a pillow, and let out an angry scream directly into it. It was juvenile and wouldn't help the situation at all, but screaming into a pillow was a habit he learned from his college therapist that he never could let go of. Once he pulled his face away from the pillow and saw how dirty he had made it, he grimaced and went into the bathroom. Maybe washing his face quickly and changing his clothes would help and then he and everyone else could go to the library. Everyone else except Richie, of course.

As he walked into the bathroom, he accidentally glanced out the window and saw Richie frantically getting into the rental car. Eddie sighed, his anger subsiding momentarily and giving way to a lonely feeling of betrayal. He couldn't believe that Richie would leave him and the rest of the losers to fend for themselves. Especially leave Eddie! Of course he wanted to leave too, but he was being rational and he knew they couldn't just leave.

He started having random thoughts of Richie dying on his way to the airport, like Bev predicted, or the rest of the losers dying in the sewers because Richie wasn't there. And then Richie would just be in their house alone, never knowing what happened to him. Eddie shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away.

"To have and to hold, my ass," he grumbled to himself, the anger coming back as he whipped away from the window and stalked towards the sink. He grabbed a towel and made sure it was close by before turning on the water and dousing his entire face before roughly rubbing his specially formulated face wash onto his cheeks and forhead. In between splashes of water and assaulting his own face with face wash, he kept ranting, trying to get his anger out.

"Just separate! Get a token! Everything will be fine! Your husband won't get fucking scared and abandon you and your friends. I mean it's not like I wasn't scared! There was a creepy basement and a stupid leper! I thought I was going to kill it, but I didn't!" Eddie stopped to wipe the water off of his face and grab some medication out from behind the mirror before continuing his rant. "And then the leper...he threw up all over me. HEY! It's Mike! Why don't you come back to Derry!"

"It's your time, Eddie."

Eddie barely had any time to realize there was someone in the room when he closed the mirror back into place and saw him standing right behind him, apparently appearing out of nowhere. Eddie jumped, turning around quickly. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the man behind him lashed out, jabbing a switchblade directly into Eddie's cheek with a force and speed he hadn't expected from this hulking person.

"Ah! Wh-?" Eddie was beyond shocked, reaching up slightly to touch his face, realizing that the knife was still embedded into his cheek and feeling blood pool down his face. The taste of iron filled his mouth and he felt himself get lightheaded suddenly, the blood-loss flooding his senses. "Why?"

That's when the intruder began laughing, eyes wide with an odd sort of childlike glee, and Eddie recognized that laugh. It had haunted his nightmares without him even remembering until now.

Bowers. Henry fucking Bowers. He hadn't seen him since that fateful day all of those years ago when he had been arrested for the murders of all of the children that year, but it was definitely him now.

"Why did you-" Eddie asked, stepping back and trying to stay as far away Bowers as possible. He was older, like them, but he didn't age nearly as well as the losers.

"Because he says it's your time!" That's all Bowers offered, holding his hands out to his side like that explained everything. In Eddie's hazed mind, that meant nothing and it was almost funny.

"Who says it's my time?" Eddie asked, suddenly letting out an odd giggle, Bowers laughing with him as well. The blood-loss must've been getting pretty bad, as he stepped back again, his heel hitting the edge of the bathtub. He felt like everything was pretty funny, the entire situation. Richie leaves him and he's already getting stabbed in the face.

"Oh you know, Eddie," he muttered, and then Bowers isn't giggling anymore. His face fell into an odd, dissociated look. He stepped forward, following Eddie forward. As he did, Eddie went the only direction he could at this point, climbing into the bathtub weakly. "Oh time to float."

Eddie's eyes widened, realizing immediately what was going on. It sent Bowers. It must've known that Richie had left and they were vulnerable by themselves. He chuckled again, grimacing at his bad luck. He gets thrown up on and isn't allowed to even get cleaned up. As soon as he did, just just gets his own blood all over his face and clothes again. Eddie laughed nervously, reaching over and pulling the curtain in front of him, blocking him from Henry Bowers view, both of them still laughing at each other oddly.

"Where'd you go?" Bowers asked, sounding as if he were playing hide and seek and not trying to kill another man. Eddie winced as he touched the spot on his face where the blade met his skin, but he knew what he had to do and he didn't have a lot of time to do it. He reached over, grabbed the hilt, and pulled on it in one fluid motion, removing it from his cheek without damaging his teeth and tongue. It was strangely lucky that it had just lodged itself in the soft part of his face and not the bones.

"Now give me back my fucking knife-" It was now or never, and as Eddie heard Bowers getting angrier and standing right in front of the bathtub, he lunged forward with the switchblade quickly, directly through the shower curtain and hitting flesh. The shower curtain began to tear away as Bowers stumbled backwards, away from Eddie. Once the curtain tore all the way down, Eddie could see that he had managed to stab Bowers directly in the chest, the curtain pinned to him.

Still shocked and losing more blood now that the knife was removed, Eddie slowly slunk out of the bathtub, skirting the wall so he wouldn't have to get any closer to Henry Bowers than he needed to but he could still keep an eye on him as Bowers stumbled around in a confused circle. As Eddie got closer to the bathroom door, he saw the back of Bowers head and nearly laughed.

"You should cut that fucking mullet, it's been like 30 years, man," Eddie muttered before he finally was out the door and in the bedroom. He still stayed against the wall, keeping his eyes on the bathroom door incase Bowers decided to make another attempt on his life. Eddie couldn't help but think about how Richie would've loved his last words to Bowers.

"Guys!" he finally reached the door to the rest of the town house and he called down to whichever of the losers were still downstairs. His voice must've sounded pretty frantic as he heard a response fairly quickly. There were loud footsteps stampeding up the stairs

"Eds?" he heard Beverly's voice first, and then he saw here as she turned the corner of the stairs. Then, she screamed upon seeing him and that's when everything came crashing down and his adrenaline dropped, his knees giving out as he collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor, leaning against the wall for strength. He knew he must've looked worse than when he'd arrived at the town house with demon vomit all over his face. Now his shirt was dark with vomit and blood.

"Jesus! What the hell?" Ben called from right behind her. They must be the only people still here and he wanted to wonder out loud where Bill had gone, but there were more pressing matters.

"Bowers is in my room," he managed to mutter, a fresh wave of blood dripping out of his mouth thickly.

"Oh my god!" Bev screeched, either because of the sight of blood or the news that Henry Bowers was still a person they had to worry about. Then, there is suddenly a loud bang from Eddie's room and Ben took off towards the noise. Eddie wanted to protest, telling him not to go alone, but Bev was poking his cheek, distracting him.

"Is it bad?" he asks her, as soon as Ben disappeared from sight. She squeezed it gently and Eddie wanted it to hurt because that would be normal, but he could barely feel it. His cheek was only registering pressure and the feeling of liquid gushing out.

"No, Eddie! You're fine!" Beverly smiled sweetly, but Eddie could see the panic in her eyes. "We'll fix it! We'll get some bandages and-"

"My first aid kit is in my room," Eddie grumbled and Beverly chuckled at at that, the panic still in her eyes.

"That's the most Eddie-like thing you could say," she smiled. He couldn't really see what she was smiling about as his cheek was a fucking bloody mess. That's when Ben came tearing out of the room again.

"Bowers is gone!" he nearly yelled, turning the corner and bending down to get on Eddie's level. He dropped two clean towels onto Eddie's lap. "We have to get to the library. Bill will just have to meet us there. We'll call him. We can't separate right now!"

"Bill? Where is he? Shouldn't he be here by now?" Eddie screeched as Beverly took one of the towels and began wiping at the blood on Eddie's cheek with the towel. "Guys I can't feel my face. Is that normal? It doesn't even hurt? What the fuck!"

"Richie!" Ben called, standing up straight and running up to Richie's door to bang on it, ignoring Eddie's question. Eddie frowned, glancing down and remembering that Richie wasn't in there. "Rich! Come on, dude! We have to go!"

"He's gone, Ben," Eddie sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "He left."

Chapter Text

Richie was driving kind of erratically but not in the correct direction towards the airport. He would start going the right way, but then he'd think of Eddie and turn around again. Then he thought of Pennywise and his terrifying, toothy smile and that had him turning right back around towards the airport again. He must've wasted half a tank of gas at this point with the aimless driving.

"Why doesn't he get it?" he huffed to himself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "If we don't leave now, something worse could happen tonight. Or we could both go home and live out however long our lives are going to be after this. 20 years? 20 months? ...20 days?"

"Then we die."

"...horribly!" Eddie's face flashed in his mind as Richie remembered the whole conversation that had caused them to stay in the first place.

"I should go back there. I just fucking left them," he muttered, absolutely hating himself for leaving Eddie. He remembered hating himself when he first had these feelings for him, but this was a new sort of self-loathing. He'd hit an all time low when he abandoned Eddie.

"I know your secret. Your dirty little secret."

"Fuck that. Fuck them. I've got dates in fucking Reno, man." Sure, that was a lie, but he was trying to talk himself up into leaving. Maybe if he tried to tell It that he was fine and he had dates and he could leave his friends then it would come true. Maybe he could speak into existence that he was straight, he wasn't scared, he lived a normal life, and there never even was a demon clown in the first place. Of course, that's not how the real world worked. He couldn't just pretend everything was different. He couldn't pretend he didn't love Eddie and he knew he couldn't leave him back there alone.

He was stopped at a red light, sighing deeply and wondering what other options there possibly could be, when he turned and saw a familiar synagogue. It was just the same, like he had only been there yesterday. No, he wasn't there often, but he could remember being there the last time he was there.

Stanley.

Without thinking, Richie pulled over, a car next to him honking at him as he darted out into the parking lot. After parking frantically, he raced inside, knowing nobody would be inside at this time. As he opened the door into the main section of the synagogue, he felt like he was a child again, coming to support his best friend on his big day. He even remembered exactly where he sat that day, and as he sat down in the exact same spot, he realized that a lot of this fear he had and wanting to run away all stemmed back to losing Stanley.

"The things we wish we could leave behind; the whispers we wish we could silence; the nightmares we most want to wake up from; the memories we wish we could change; secrets we feel like we have to keep; are the hardest to walk away from."

"Maybe I don't want to forget."

"I know I'm a loser and no matter what, I always fucking will be."

Stan ran out of the room that day and Richie could've sworn he could see him running out now, the adults that had been watching his ceremony gaping at his speech. They were clearly confused, as any adult would've been at such an outburst. But Richie understood Stan's speech, and he understood it now even more than he had back then. Yeah, Stan had always been wise beyond his years.

"Thanks for showing up, Stanley."

Richie sat there a moment longer, breathing deeply to ground himself and wishing a 40 year old Stanley would come bounding in the room, but of course he didn't. Then Richie stood up and practically ran back out to his car, knowing what he had to do.

He was a loser, and he always fucking would be.

Richie stood up and headed towards the door, intent on going back to the town house and begging Eddie for forgiveness. He didn't get far though, as he heard something from the front of the synagogue. It was a thumping sound.

He turned away from the door slowly, shaking slightly, but as soon as he faced the front, he was shocked.

"Stan?" he muttered, eyes wide as he adjusted his glasses to see better. Yes, it was 13 year old Stan standing up at the front with his traditional outfit holding the old microphone up to his mouth.

"We both left them, Rich," he said, sounding just like Richie remembered him. Tears sprang to his eyes almost instantly and suddenly the screaming in his head was back, almost like a warning in his ears. "We're both scared so we both left, right? Except I did it better. I left completely and nobody can force me to go back. You should join me, Richie! Join me!"

The young Stan was starting to step down the stairs, an odd grin on his face as he held his free hand out towards Richie. The closer he got, the weirder the details became. He wasn't wearing a yamaka anymore, but instead had a floral shower cap over top of his curls.

"Stop it," Richie whispered, stepping back against the door without opening it. Everything in his mind told him that this wasn't Stan, but he couldn't look away. As Stan walked closer, he just couldn't stop looking. Stan was only a few feet away now and he wasn't holding the microphone anymore. Instead, a piece of glass was clutched in his hand, held out towards Richie.

"IT can go away, Rich," he said with that strange grin that Stan never would've had. "Everything will be gone. All of the pain and fear. The hatred. Come with me and everything will be fine. It's ok to be the scared ones. I just couldn't cut it, right? And yet, I could. A thin line, just like we did when we were kids, but right down the wrist. It's so easy! Give in to the fear, Rich. Give in to It. End it!"

"NO!" Richie didn't expect the outburst, but it came from his own mouth. He was furious, shaking with anger instead of fear now. "Stanley was brave! I know he was! How dare you use him like this? Fuck you! You hear me? Fuck you!"

While he had been screaming, the not-Stan's face was warping, slowly. It's face began to twist, elongating, one eye drifting up while the other grew and the length of his nose curving upwards. He looked like an weird, creepy painting now, a grin with sharp teeth spread across his face.

"Riiichie!" the painted face of Stanley now smirked. "You're still the scared little boy, Richie! You're that scared little boy that couldn't even tell your best friend about your disgusting, dirty feelings and ran away from him!"

"No! I'm not!" Richie retorted, his anger growing at the mention of Eddie. He had run away when he was a kid and he was running away now. But that wasn't what he wanted and it wasn't what the real Stan would want him to do. "I'm the grown ass man that grew up, got over it, and married my best friend!"

The not-Stan lunged forward, but Richie was ready. He ducked to the side and pulled open the synagogue door towards himself, swinging the door so that it whacked the not-Stan directly in the face and It fell backwards. Richie ignored It as It sprawled out on the ground, running out the door as fast as he could. He threw open his car door, jumped inside, and pulled out of the parking lot before anything else could stop him.

He didn't know how long he had been inside, but it was already dark. He really hoped they hadn't already left as he drove towards the library. They would either still be there or they would be on the way from the Town House. Richie didn't know what he would do now if he got there and they were all already gone to fight It. Or worse...

He peeled into the library parking lot, parking sloppily and jumping out of the car. There was only one other car in the parking lot, so unless they had all car pooled, he'd beat everyone to the library! He didn't want to think about the other option; where they had already left, fought a demon clown, lost to the demon clown, and...no, he ignored that idea. Richie raced towards the front entrance, instead thinking about how he would apologize to Eddie when he finally saw him again.

He opened the door, intending to shout some stupid joke about Eddie's mom so everyone would know he was fine, but what he saw was anything than what he expected. He saw the back of a head he didn't recognize, but that person was hovering over a man Richie definitely recognized. It was Mikey!

"Just like your druggie parents," the man Richie couldn't figure out was screaming, reaching down with a knife aimed directly for Mike. Richie immediately glanced around, running into the room and looking for anything to help him. He expected to find a discarded stick or a vase he could use, but instead his eyes landed on something he didn't expect to find in a library. He didn't question it though. "Can you see them yet? Crisping? Like fried fucking-"

Richie brought the ax down as hard as he could manage and watched as it sickeningly buried itself into the mans skull with a dull crack, sticking out of his head as Richie let go of it. The man stilled and Richie figured out who the mystery man was as he looked at the knife that clattered away. A familiar switch blade. It was Bowers. Henry Bowers.

"Get out of here, faggot!" echoed in his mind.

Bowers collapsed to the side, completely unmoving as the ax remained in his head, and Richie was finally able to get a better look at Mike. Thankfully, he appeared fine and Richie let that comfort him for a moment. He had arrived in time to save one of his best friends from their childhood bully, as oddly as that sounded to say as a 40 year old man. But then the full realization of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. He had killed him. He killed Bowers. He killed Henry Bowers!

"Guess you can say that was long over due. Get it? 'Cause like, we're in a library?" he grinned, eyes frantically wide as he tried to distract himself from the heaviness of the situation.

It didn't work. He turned around to avoid Mike to the best of his ability and promptly threw up on the library floor.

//

Eddie was glad that Ben offered to drive. He wasn't sure he had the mental stability to drive safely at the moment, what with Richie out there by himself, a murderous psychopath that used to bully them, and a demon entity trying to eat them all.

"I can't believe he just left!" Ben was still fuming. Usually Ben tried to appear calm and collected, a mediator for the otherwise hot headed group, but the news that Richie had lied to him and left really set him off. Eddie sighed, not wanting to talk about it right now and he noticed that Beverly was looking at him from the front seat.

"You're being awfully quiet, Eddie," she said softly, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I don't have to be talking 24/7, Bev," he huffed out, defensively.

"How does your face feel?" she continued, seemingly ignoring his outburst.

"I'm fine," he muttered, gently touching the cloth taped to his face.

"Eddie..?"

"Really! I can feel it now so there's no nerve damage," Eddie sighed. "Good news, right?"

"We're here," Ben said suddenly, drawing their attention. "But we aren't alone. Look at the cars in the parking lot."

Eddie looked up as they pulled into the parking lot and instantly recognized the red rental car but not the other one present.

"That's Richie's car!" he yelled, sitting straight up. "Hurry! Go, go!"

He should've known Richie wouldn't be able to make it out of Derry. He should've gone with him! Who knows what could've happened to him in this time by himself. All three of the friends barreled out of the car and towards the front. Ben threw open the doors and Eddie nearly fell over.

Richie was in the middle of vomiting and Mike was laying on the floor, cringing as he watched Richie spill his stomach onto the library floor. But it was the other body on the floor that had all three of them shaking. Shaking with fear or anger or relief? They weren't sure. Henry Bowers was laying on his side, eyes staring forward blankly with an ax sticking out of the back of his head. He was clearly dead and it was very easy to put the pieces together of what had happened here.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Ben yelled out, as they finally reached their two friends and Richie stood up straight, swiping at his mouth. Eddie's eyes were wide as he fidgeted with his hands, not knowing what to say to Richie right now with everyone there. He wanted to yell at him for leaving. He wanted to apologize for not goign with him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to throw up because he hated seeing Richie throw up.

"No I'm not alright! I just fucking killed a guy!" Richie exclaimed. Eddie pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to think rationally but his brain skipped all of that and went straight to Richie getting arrested for man slaughter and living the rest of his life in jail, if they even survived the night.

"I was...talking to Mike," Ben muttered, eye brows furrowed. Richie sighed and stepped to the side, visibly shaking and Eddie couldn't take it anymore. He followed Richie over to the side, ignoring the rest of the conversation between Mike and Ben. When Richie noticed Eddie was next to him, he whipped around to face him, putting both of his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry!" he gasped out, biting his lip in between words. "You were right! I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have gone I was just....what happened to your face?"

"It's fine! I'm fine!" Eddie interrupted. "But are you ok? What happened out there?"

"You've got a fucking gash on your cheek and your cheek and you're asking me if I'm ok?" Richie asked, dropping his hands from Eddie's shoulders and squeezing them tightly into fists. "This is my fault! I left you alone!"

"Actually you took care of the guy that did it," Eddie muttered under his breath, glancing briefly at the still form of Bowers a few feet away.

"Bowers?" Richie exclaimed, not daring to look in that direction. "Fucking Bowers cut your cheek?"

"Well...it was more like a stab to the face, but that's unimportant!" Eddie said, reaching out and putting a hand on Richie's arm again. He knew he should be angry at Richie for leaving, but he just didn't have it in him. Seeing Richie so shaken up and upset now was horrible. "You came back. That's what's important."

Before Richie could reply, Mike started shouting and the two turned around to make sure nothing was going on yet. Mike was on the phone, yelling into it with wide eyes.

"No! Bill! Bill!" Mike was saying, apparently talking to Bill on the phone. Ben was looking at him oddly, questions swirling in his mind as Beverly nervously crossed her arms.

"He's going to fight It alone. Alone!" Mike said, putting the phone down quickly.

"What?" Richie exclaimed.

"It's about the group!" Mike was frantic now, waving his arms around like he was trying to find something stable to grasp. Eddie knew the feeling. "The ritual doesn't work without the group. Doing it together is why it worked."

Richie saw the artifact now, the item that was causing Mike to act out now. It's the ritual artifact, a strangely shaped sort of bowl with a lid. But what really caught his eye is what made him pick it up and bring it closer. It looked like one side of the bowl was defaced, scraped away. The other sides appeared to have normal pictures, so it stands to reason that the defaced side wasn't just worn away with age. It was purposefully removed.

Before he could look at it any closer, Mike came back and snatched the artifact away.

"Mike, did he tell you where he was going?" Ben asked, keeping the conversation going.

"If he really wanted to kill Pennywise, there's only one place he'll go," Beverly spoke up.

"The same place where the ritual needs to be performed," Mike nodded fervently. Richie only had to think for a moment before realizing the place they were talking about. As soon as he did, the screaming in his head got much worse than it had been before and he winced, feeling like his brain had been punched with the volume.

"Oh, we're not going to like this are we?" Eddie sighed, trying to keep his voice even.

"Fuck," is all Ben could muster up in reply.