Archive of Our Own ^beta

"We should do that!" Richie cried excitedly as the credits rolled. Eddie popped a kernel of popcorn in his mouth and raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Do what? Steal your dad's Nissan and hijack a parade?" 

Richie rolled is eyes. "No dumbass, steal your mom's station wagon and hijack a parade. You're obviously Cameron in this scenario." 

Eddie scoffed. "Why the fuck am I Cameron?" Richie shot him with an incredulous look, and despite himself, Eddie felt his cheeks flush. Okay, sure, he was absolutely Cameron. It was actually almost like, freaky, some of the similarities, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud. "Oh, shut the fuck up."

"You could always be Sloane," Richie cooed, leaning in and making kissy faces. 

Eddie blanched, pushing Richie's face away. "Ugh, gross!"

"No, no, it's perfect! You both got those big ol' brown eyes."

"Rich–!"

"And you're both cute, cute, cute!"

"Shut up, fucknut!" Richie laughed, loud and long, expertly dodging the popcorn being flung in his direction. Eddie scowled, biting back his own grin as Richie managed to catch a kernel in his mouth and pump his arms up in victory. "Okay, but seriously. Skip school together?"

"Yes!"

"And do what?"

"Whatever we want!" Richie cried, his eyes practically twinkling. "I mean sure, it's not like we can actually steal a car and go to Chicago or anything, but we can find some stuff around Derry to do. Anything is better than school, even in this shit-hole town."

Eddie couldn't argue with that logic, but he wasn't about to give in that easily, so he crossed his arms, challengingly. "You do realize how bad that movie ended for Cameron, right? Like, there is no way he wasn't toast after that, and I do not need that kind of trouble with my mom."

Richie groaned, closing his eyes and gently hitting his head against the back of the couch. "There wont be any trouble, Eds, because we're not gonna do something stupid and get caught."

"Uh huh. Because we never do anything stupid."

"And you need this, dude," Richie continued, ignoring him. "Just like Cameron. Life moves fast if you don't stop missing looks, or whatever."

"That's so not even the quote."

"Trust me," Richie said with a beam, plopping an arm around Eddie's shoulders, and throwing on what Eddie assumed was supposed to be his old-timey mobster voice. "It'll be a piece of cake, shweethaht."

It ended up not, in fact, being a piece of cake. Try as they might, for nearly six months, every attempt they made to fake sick on the same day ended up nothing more than a spectacular failure. 

During their first attempt, Eddie, apparently a far better actor than he gave himself credit for, ended up in the emergency room.

"What the fuck, dude? What the hell happened?" Richie had asked on the phone that night, once Eddie had had returned home from being theroughly poked and prodded and run through the gauntlet at Derry Home Hospital and been deemed nonterminal enough to talk on the phone. 

"Mom took me to the hospital."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, holy shit."

"What did you even do? I thought you were just gonna, like, cough!"

Eddie rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, letting out a deep breath. "I did just cough. Ma decided it sounded like pneumonia."

"Yowza."

"Yeah, it sucked."

"Okay," Richie began, and Eddie could almost see him adjusting his glasses in that way he always did when he was thinking. "So, new plan. Next time, less coughing." 

Eddie snorted. "Yeah, genius, I figured that out for myself." 

The second attempt hadn't gone any better, since Richie apparently forgot they were supposed to be trying again until he showed up at Eddie's doorstep that morning to pick him up.

"Eddie will not be going to school today, Richard," his mom told Richie cooly, while Eddie glared daggers at him over her shoulder, a cold compress balancing of his head and a thermometer sticking out of his scowling mouth. "He's feeling ill."

"Yeah, Rich," he bit out around the thermometer. "I'm ill."

"No talking while we take your temperature, Eddie-Bear," his mom reminded him, starting to slowly close the door in Richie's face. "Goodbye, Richard."

"Sorry!" Richie managed to mouth as the door snapped shut, taking just long enough to close for Eddie to flip him off before it latched all the way. 

As it turned out, Eddie couldn't stay mad at Richie for long, not after he was the one who forgot they were doing attempt number three. 

He'd overslept, forgetting to turn on his alarm after he and Richie had stayed up late, whispering grand plans for their day off into the phone into the wee hours of the morning. His mom had barged in two minutes before Richie was due to pick him up the next morning, scaring the ever loving shit out of him, and sending him out the door still half-asleep with his sweater on backwards, mismatching shoes, and an untoasted, unfrosted, strawberry Poptart shoved haphazardly into his mouth. 

It was only after Richie didn't immediately show up for him that Eddie remembered he was supposed to be playing hooky, and unfortunately, at that point, there was nothing he could tell him mom that wouldn't send him directly to a day of fun at the doctor's office, so he swore, and dragged himself to school, reasoning that Richie owed him for last time anyway. 

Attempt four was blown when Richie's attempt to heat up the thermometer with a hair dryer sent the reading up into the low two-hundreds, earning him not just a trip to school, but a lecture from Wentworth on top of it. 

Attempt five was shot when Eddie's mom was so worried about him, she decided to take off work and smoother the sickness out of him with soup, tea, and an extra spoonful of love so he was unable to escape her all day outside trips to the bathroom (and even those were dicey). 

Richie gave himself actual food poisoning somewhere around either attempt six or attempt seven (they were starting to lose count), even though Eddie had told him eating the the old, moldy mystery meat growing in the Tupperware at the back of the fridge to make himself sick was a fucking stupid idea, and ended up puking and shitting his guts out for three straight days. 

But this time. This time. They had a plan. 

And it was going to work, damnit. 

"Oh god, this is so fucking disgusting."

Richie snorted, continuing to stir the lumpy, chunky, greenish brown liquid whatever they had thrown together in the bucket they had found in Richie's garage with a stick. "Yeah dude, that's kind of the point."

"Herk," Eddie gagged, plugging his nose as Richie grinned and poked at a particularly large lump of something floating around. "I'm about to get you real vomit here in a second. Holy fuck, how are you not blowing chunks right now? You puke like, all the time. You puked in the middle of doing a presentation of the Civil War, how is–herk, oh god– How is this not making you sick?"

"My puking is like, a nervousness thing," he said with a shrug. "Public speaking and shit. Gross stuff is cool."

Eddie stuck out his tongue. "This is not cool." He paused to regard their concoction critically. "It does look like puke though."

"Fuck yeah it does." He gave it one last dramatic stir before chucking the stick into the air, Eddie yelping and jumping out of the way as it fell back toward the ground. "By George, I think we've got it!" he cried in one of his shitty Voices. 

"Well, let's just hope it works," Eddie sighed, kicking the bucket lightly with his foot. "School ends in like, three weeks. This'll probably our last chance." A bubble burst in the fake puke, and Eddie choked back another gag. "I think my mom's got an old chicken casserole in the fridge if you want to give yourself food poisoning again to be safe," he offered with a smirk. 

Richie stuck out his tongue but laughed, popping the top on the bucket and grabbing the handle. He struggled a little to pick it up at first, but batted Eddie away when he went to try to help, lugging it into the house and waddling with it up the stairs and into his room as Eddie trailed him, barking advice from three steps behind. After shoving it into his closet, he turned back to Eddie, and gave him a thumbs up with a stupid grin. Eddie shook his head. 

"Well, Ferris, here goes nothing."

O

Eddie's mom glowered at him over the rims of her glasses, so he held his old quilt tighter around his body and tried his damndest to look as tired as humanly possible. 

"And you're sure you're just tired, sweetie?" she asked skeptically. "You aren't feeling like you're coming down with something?"

Eddie nodded. "Yes Mommy, I'm sure. I just stayed up too late last night studying. I think I just need a day home to sleep, and I'll be better tomorrow." He paused. "I don't want to push myself too hard on so little sleep today and get sick." Thankfully, that seemed to soften her resolve, at least a little.

"And you don't need me to stay home with you?"

Sure fucking don't, he thought bitterly, but did his best to smile sweetly. "No, I think I'll be able to sleep better if everything is quiet."

Though he was pretty sure she still wasn't completely, one hundred percent buying it, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and turned to the door, just barely grasping the knob before spinning around to face him once again. "And you wont be missing anything important today? I don't want you falling behind and getting yourself sick with stress because of it."

Like that ever stopped her form keeping him home, before, he thought bitterly. "Just a review for the science test tomorrow," he shrugged, throwing in a yawn for good measure. In the back of his mind, he could practically hear Richie praising him for his truly inspired improve. "The guys can help me study at lunch, and I'll read over my notes again when I wake up. I studied a lot last night though, so I should be okay."

Finally, finally, Sonia smiled softly. "You're such a good boy, Eddie-Bear. Get some rest today, and call me if you need anything, okay? Anything." She started opening up the door, then paused, leaning down slightly, waiting.

Eddie bit back his grimace, kissing her on the cheek. "I will, I promise. Bye, Mommy."

He gave it exactly five minutes after her station wagon pulled out of the driveway and puttered down the street, then waited one minute more, just to be on the safe side, before dropping the quilt and booking up the stairs, two at a time. He checked his alarm clock, knowing that Richie's parents always left for work by seven forty-two on Thursdays, meaning he had roughly twenty minutes to wait until he could call and see if their plan worked. 

To kill some time, he took a quick shower, threw on some clothes, changed his mind almost immediately and changed his clothes again, and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, hopping around on his toes as he ate, watching the glowing green clock on the microwave. Four more minutes. He just needed to wait four more–

Riiing. Riiing.

"Hello?!" he practically yelled into the phone, like an idiot. He winced, willing himself to not be such a spaz for once in his life, jesus christ... 

"Eds?!" the familiar voice on the other side of the phone asked excitedly, and Eddie promptly pepped up at the sound.

"Rich?!"

"Holy shit, did we actually pull this off?" 

"Oh my god, we did!"

"Eddie," Richie said, the grin obvious in his voice, making Eddie grin right along with him. "We're taking the day off. Now come over here and pick me up."

It was a stupid idea, honestly. Stupid, reckless, and despite being six months in the making, impulsive. Derry was not a big town, they weren't exactly unknown amongst the rest of the citizens, and despite the adults in this town not giving a shit about literally anything, the sight of two fourteen year old boys wandering about in the middle of the day on a Thursday in mid-May was bound to raise a few eyebrows. 

And, oh god, if Eddie's mom found out...

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. He wasn't going to think about that. Richie was right, he did need this, and he wasn't going to let himself chicken out this early. He'd let Future Eddie deal with that crisis after he enjoyed himself for once, thankyouverymuch. 

When Eddie came peeling into the driveway, Richie was waiting for him at the little patio table on the front porch, his feet propped up on the bannister, sipping at a tall glass of orange juice. 

"Top 'o the mornin' to ya, Eddie mah boy!" he chirped as Eddie made his way up the steps. 

"I can't believe your mom actually bought the fake puke schtick."

Richie took a long gulp from his glass and beamed. "I threw a handful of last night's meatloaf leftovers into the mix this morning. It really sold it."

Eddie stuck out his tongue in disgust, shoving Richie's legs aside so he could walk on to the porch. "That is so gross. Should you really be sitting out here in the open like this? What if your neighbors see you and tell your parents?"

"What if your neighbors saw you sneaking out this morning, and tell your parents?" he challenged.

"I snuck around the back, because I have self-preservation instincts," Eddie shot back. "C'mon, let's figure out the plan for the day." He opened the door, ignoring Richie's whining behind him as he marched into the house, heading straight to the kitchen.

"Dude," Richie groaned, but followed him dutifully despite his bellyaching. "Do we really have to set a fucking agenda? Where's the spontaneity? The adventure? Do you think Ferris Bueller had come up with a schedule beforehand? Of course not. Because even Cameron knew how to unclench enough to just let things happen."

Eddie rolled his eyes, jumping up onto a stool pulled up to the kitchen island, and pulling an old, pocket size He-Man notebook from his fanny pack. 

Yeah, the guys had given him shit when he started wearing it again after everything that happened last summer, but without his pointless medication taking up so much room, it became an actual useful, practical piece of clothing full of sunscreen, bug spray, bandages, snacks, tissues, and more, and had saved each and every Loser's bacon at least once, so they shut up about it pretty fast. 

Well, Richie still made fun of him about it, but what else was new. Everyone else was cool about it at least.

"Ferris had the entirety of fucking Chicago to work with, asshole," he scoffed. "We have fucking Derry. Excuse me for assuming it might be harder for us to think of things to do that are actually fucking fun." 

Richie snorted at that, opening up the pantry and holding up a bag of bagels. "Touché. You want one?"

Eddie nodded. "Yes please. But don't burn it this time! Just a little brown around the edges." Richie grinned and gave a thumbs up, dropping two sliced bagels into the toaster. Eddie smiled, once he was sure Richie wasn't looking at him, his heart doing that traitorous little skip thing it had started doing lately against his will.

That was also a crisis for Future Eddie to deal with, so he turned back to his notebook, clearing his throat with slightly more force than entirely necessary. 

"Okay, so I wrote down all the things that they do in the movie. I figure we can use it to try to think of possible Derry equivalents." He paused, reading over his list. "Or, you know, just anything we can think of that doesn't suck."

"Okay, what about–"

"Do not fucking say the arcade, Richie."

"Dude, hear me out!"

"Rich, literally nothing on this list is even close to spending six straight hours playing Street Fighter, do not even."

Richie opened his mouth to argue just as the bagels popped out of the toaster. He closed it with a huff, grabbing the bagels and throwing them onto plates. "First of all, I will be the judge of that. Do you want Nutella?"

"Yes please. And no, you will not be the judge of that, there is nothing to judge, it is an unarguable fact."

Richie blew a raspberry, placing both plates onto the counter along with two knives, a carton of cream cheese, and the jar of Nutella (which no one in the Tozier house even ate and they kept around only for Eddie to eat when he was there. His heart did that stupid flip thing thinking about it). "You know as well as I do that I can, and will, argue with and about anything. But anyway, I haven't watched the movie since, like, November. Refresh my memory."

They paused for a minute to apply their respective spreads onto their bagels, and ate (some more politely than others, Eddie throught, watching Richie shove half his fucking bagel into mouth, jesus christ) as they went through each item on the list.

"So, it starts with Ferris bullying Cameron into coming over to his house," Eddie read, giving Richie a pointed look over his bagel. 

"Done," Richie said with a grin. 

Eddie snorted and continued. "Then, they call the school pretending to be Sloane's dad to get her out of class and drive off in Cameron's dad's car."

They both stopped and looked at each other.

"Do...? I mean... Should we break anyone else out to join us?" Eddie asked tentatively. "We never really talked to the others about this."

Richie made a weird little face, his cheeks flushing bafflingly. "I–" he cut himself off, biting his bottom lip. "Okay. Maybe this is gonna sound mean, but I think we should just keep today to the two of us."

Eddie silently agreed, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, so he made a sound of acknowledgment and took another bite of his bagel. 

Thankfully, Richie continued. "It's just... The less people that know about it, the better, right? Bill would totally rat us out on accident. Like, he wouldn't mean to, but he wouldn't be thinking and he'd blab, because it's Bill. And Stan! You know how Stan is, there is no way he wouldn't narc and get us busted."

Eddie nodded. "I don't think I can ask Ben to lie for us. Like, morally."

"Exactly!" Richie agreed, pointing at him with the glob of cream cheese on his knife. "I think Ben would even try, that sweet bastard, but he's such a shit liar, the school wouldn't believe him for a second."

They fell quiet after that, and Eddie was pretty sure they were both thinking the same thing: If Bev was still around, they would have broken her out in a heartbeat. 

For a second, Eddie contemplated breaking the unspoken vow of silence they had all  seemed to make at some point about bringing up the hole Bev had left in their lives when she moved to Portland. The fact that her phone calls and letters were arriving with less substance and more time in between. The fact that there were times when it almost seemed like it took her a moment to remember their names when they called. 

But the moment passed, and Richie's voice filled the kitchen once again.

"You know who would be cool about this?" he asked. Eddie grinned.

"Mikey?"

"Mikey!" Richie laughed, throwing his hands into the air. "Our fucking luck that the one Loser who would be cool with us busting him out school doesn't even go to school, the lucky bastard."

"We could still go see him," Eddie pointed out. He finished the last bite of his bagel, and licked at the Nutella on his fingertips, absently. "I doubt he'll join us, but I think he'd appreciate the surprise if we stopped by to say hi." When he got no response, Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie, who simply stared back at him with wide eyes. "What?" he snapped, effectively breaking him out of whatever weird sort of trance he had just fallen into. 

"W-what?" 

"Why are you fucking staring at me like that?"

"I'm not staring at you!"

"Yes you are!" Eddie cried. "What? Do I have chocolate all over my face or something?" He stood up, leaning forward and around Richie's steadily reddening face to see his reflection in the microwave, before pouting and stomping off to the bathroom. "I swear to god, Richie, if I have fucking chocolate smeared all over my face and you didn't tell me, I will push you into traffic." 

Richie made a frustrated, cut off sound of annoyance back in the kitchen, but Eddie ignored him, wiping his face down in the sink, even though his reflection proved his face to be spotless. Whatever. Richie was being weird, what else was new? 

And since he was already in the bathroom, he used the toilet, because who knew when he would be around indoor plumbing again. Not him, that's for sure. Better safe than sorry, he'd take advantage while he had it.

By the time he returned to the kitchen, wiping his freshly-washed hands dry on his shorts, Richie was scanning over the Day Off list himself, tapping his bottom lip with Eddie's matching He-Man pencil (they came as a set and the little pencil fit perfectly in the spiral part of the notebook, so Eddie was only just a little protective of it, but for some reason Richie messing with it wasn't causing him to have an aneurysm like it usually did). 

"I think I have a few ideas about most of these," he told him with a grin, apparently, thankfully, over whatever little stupor he had just been in a few minutes ago. "What time do you have to be home today?"

"Mom usually gets home around five-thirtyish." Richie had added some notes and doodles around the list, but he kept moving his hand to block Eddie from seeing them. 

"Sweet. Same with Dad. My mom gets home around five, but that still gives us a good chunk of time." He looked up at the cuckoo clock next to the window reading an auspicious eight forty-four, and clapped his hands together. "All right, tally-ho, my dear Edward!" he sang in his shitty British Guy Voice and pocketing the notebook and pencil. "The day is young, I say! We must make haste!"

Eddie blinked back his surprise, following at his heels. "Wha-? Where?"

"To Mike's. Like we decided. C'mon Eds, keep up."

"Okay." He rolled his eyes. "And then what?" 

"The question isn't 'what are we going to do'," Richie replied cheekily with a grin, opening up the front door. "The question is 'what aren't we going to do?'"

"That's not an answer, dipshit," Eddie said with a smirk, but followed him out anyway, shutting the door behind him with a click. "And stop answering all my questions with movie quotes!"

Mike was alone outside with the sheep when they arrived, which to Eddie seemed like a good sign that they weren't going to get caught, at least not right out the gate.

Eddie had insisted that he be the one to lead them across and to the edge of town to the Hanlon's farm, making sure they took all the convoluted, backroad routes Eddie knew to keep them as out of sight as possible, even as Richie bitched about how long it was taking them. 

If Mike was surprised to see them, he certainly didn't look it, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and waving as they rode their bikes up to the old barn. 

"Hey guys," he called, smiling pleasantly, if a little amused, as they came riding up. "Shouldn't you two be in school right now?"

"Ah, Mikey, my boy," Richie drawled, tossing an arm around his shoulders as Eddie wandered into the barn to see the sheep. "That ed-u-ma-cation shiz is for the birds, shee? Eds and me are runnin' off tah join the circus!"

Mike snorted, raising an eyebrow. "A circus? Really?"

Richie stopped to consider that for a second and shivered, switching back to his normal voice. "Oh yeah. No. Fuck that." 

Eddie shook his head, running his hand tenderly along the nose of his favorite sheep, a little, fluffy thing name Laverne, who had a bad habit of sneaking past the Hanlon's fence, then bleating non-stop against the gate at feeding time when she realized she couldn't get herself back in. 

Eddie had watched the whole spectacle one day while he and Mike were helping his grandfather tinker around in the old family truck, and was immediately smitten. Mike even swore they wouldn't take her to market, and would use her exclusively for wool, after Eddie had tearfully threatened to steal her unless he promised no harm would befall her. 

"We're pulling a Ferris Bueller's Day Off," Eddie explained, scratching Laverne once more on the head and joining Mike and Richie again. "But like, a shitty version. 'Cause it's Derry."

"We're here to lie to the Dean of Students and whisk you away," Richie added.

Mike laughed, shaking his head. "So, I'm Sloane?" he asked, his eyes bright. "Man, I dunno guys. I don't think I can pull off that jacket."

"Mike," Richie began, closing his eyes like what Mike had just said was so outlandish, he had to force himself to stay composed. "Please believe me when I say this, but there is not a single Loser that could pull off that jacket better than you."

"It's true," Eddie agreed, nodding sagely. 

Mike just laughed again. "I appreciate that, Rich. Unfortunately, jacket aside, I'm not sure how likely it'll be you'll convince Gramps there was a death in the family to bust me out of here, but I appreciate the sentiment." He finished putting away an old bucket he was using to replenish the sheep's water and closed the door behind him. "You guys want any lemonade before you take off on your adventure of teenage rebellion? Gramps is in Bangor for the morning, so you don't have to worry about him catching you."

They readily agreed, sitting lazily at the cozy Hanlon kitchen table, Eddie and Richie regaling Mike with their failed attempts at playing hooky together the last few months, and Mike genuinely enjoying the distraction. 

"So Mikey, that brings us to why we're really here," Richie began. Eddie scoffed, knowing exactly where this was going. 

Thankfully, so did Mike. "No, Richie, you may not borrow the truck," he said simply, shaking his head. "I've seen how that movie ends. But if you can get the old tractor started, it's yours." 

Richie perked up at that. "Eds, can you get the tractor started?"

Eddie leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly. "Sure can."

"And will you?"

"Not a chance."

"Fuck."

Mike and Eddie laughed heartily, agreeing that Eddie should come around soon and put himself to use helping getting the old Hanlon farm machinery in working order for the year. 

They finished their drinks, and headed back out to the barn, hugging Mike (and Laverne, who Richie jokingly suggested they use as their mode of transportation, and Eddie promptly shut that shit down) goodbye, before peddling back out to the street and heading back into town.

Eddie rode up next to Richie, still guiding them down the back roads, but letting him take the lead. "So, where are we off to now?" he asked. "You said you had ideas, right? Let's hear 'em."

"Well, first stop on the grand Day Off Derry Tour of 1990 is the top of the Sears Tower," Richie said in what Eddie assumed was supposed to be some gameshow host, or a travel agent Voice or something. "And since Derry is straight out of skyscrapers, we'll have to go to the next best thing."

With a grin, he took a sharp right down Kansas Street, leading them to Memorial Park. 

Like, the murder clown in the sewer aside, Derry was fucked up at its core, and the previous summer had done nothing but add to the ever-growing Freaky Shit of Derry list. 

Since that summer, Richie couldn't walk through Bassey Park without keeping his head on a constant swivel, Ben hardly ever went to the library by himself anymore, Mike had started almost obsessively collecting books and old newspaper articles, keeping notes about Bev's slowly dwindling contact with the other Losers, insisting something wasn't adding up, Bill stopped going outside when it rained, Stan woke up nightly with nightmares he refused to talk to them about.

And Eddie... 

Well, despite the small bursts of teenage rebellion and mundane anarchy he managed to throw into the mix of his usual good boy façade, (He had, just the other night, not replaced the bag when he took out the trash, for instance. Look out John Bender, there was a new bad boy in town.) he felt more scared of just about everything than ever. Everything around Derry seemed to reveal itself as a host or byproduct of the clown's bullshit; every statue, monument, building, and park, all just another way for the clown to make his life a living hell. 

It was exhausting. 

And even more exhausting was pretending he wasn't in a near constant state of terror in front of his friends. 

He knew they would understand. Of course they would. They would understand more than anyone else ever could. But he didn't want them to have to. He didn't want them to see him as the weak and fragile little baby he was before that summer.

He wanted them to keep thinking he was brave. 

(He wanted Richie to keep thinking he was brave.)

Which was why the fact that he was staring at the fucking Standpipe, of all things, right now was such a huge goddamn bummer.

"Behold, dear Edward!" Richie exclaimed, holding his arms out wide, as they pulled up to the giant Derry landmark. "The tallest building in the world!"

"The Standpipe?" he asked, flabbergasted. "The fucking Standpipe? Rich, this thing is so fucking dangerous. Like, a literal deathtrap. Kids died in there, Richie. And you know what Stan said..."

Richie moaned, his head falling back in exasperation. "Dude, if we avoided every place in this town where kids died, we couldn't go anywhere. Besides, Stan's whole episode was obviously clown bullshit, and the clown is gone, so we don't even have to worry anymore."

Eddie pursed his lips, his eyes skimming over the bright white shingles of Standpipe cautiously. He always hated this stupid thing, even before Stan told them about the weird shit he had seen back during the spring, even before everything went to hell. Everyone knew the stories of the kids who had drowned in the gigantic tank of water that lived inside the whimsical exterior. How they had snuck in, ended up falling into the dark water, forced to tread for their lives for hours until they finally gave into exhaustion and surrendered into the deep...

He shivered, turning back to Richie and shaking his head. "No way."

"Eds–"

"No."

"Eds."

"No!" He stomped over to the door, pointing at the combination padlock keeping the door shut. "Anyway, even if this wasn't the stupidest idea in human history, we wouldn't be able to get in! It's locked, genius! They only open this thing for tours, like, four times a year, so– wh-what are you doing?"

Richie grinned wolfishly, having let his bike fall to the ground while Eddie was ranting and skipping unceremoniously over to the door to playfully jiggle the padlock a bit. "Locked, you say?" he asked, teasingly.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "Yes, locked. That's a lock, dumbass."

"No, no, I see the lock." Richie crouched down, tapping his bottom lip and inspecting the lock from all angles. "Hey Eds."

Eddie crossed his arms, not liking where this was going. "What?"

"What do ya say, if I can get this lock open in one try, you'll go up to the promenade deck with me. If I can't, we'll go stand on top of a fucking slide or something instead." He looked back at him over his shoulder, the sun glinting off his big, stupid glasses. Eddie pursed his lips. "Sound like a deal?"

"Fine," he agreed, albeit hesitantly. "But you can't like, break it or something, okay? Trespassing is bad enough without adding destruction of property, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't break it," Richie mumbled, lifting up the lock to study the little four-digit combination code at the bottom of the padlock. He looked at it for a few long moments, before snorting and spinning the dials to read 6969.

Eddie groaned. "Rich, do you really think–?"

Click.

"...Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Richie burst out into fervent laughter, clutching his stomach as Eddie gawked at the very much unlocked padlock resting in Richie's hands. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god, this town sucks so bad. So, fucking, bad. That's the code the city picks to keep people from literally dying? Sixty-nine, fucking sixty-nine?! Oh my fucking god. I can't. I can't right now. Fuck this. I'm going to go into that fucking nightmare silo and hop into that tank and get this over with. I'm done. I can't live like this."

Richie continued to laugh hysterically as Eddie continued his tirade, gasping out an occasional "Eds!" before finally getting him to calm down by grabbing his shoulder. "Dude, dude! Stop, please, holy shit, it's my lock!"

"What?" Eddie exclaimed. Richie wiped at his eyes, shaking his head and beaming. 

"Yeah dude, it's my old bike lock! Look." He held it up, and on the back of the lock, Eddie could see a faded 'RT' written on the metal in permanent marker. "I was out here the last time the maintenance guy came by, so I traded out his lock with mine when he wasn't looking."

Eddie gaped at the lock, before turning his attention back to Richie, who seemed to have the wherewithal to look at least a little sheepish, though he was still definitely proud of himself. "Holy shit," he mumbled. "How long were you fucking planning this?" 

Richie just grinned, picking up his bike, attaching the lock, and wheeling it over away from the side of the building, where it would be less noticeable. Dumbly, still a little in awe of Richie's ability to think ahead, Eddie followed suit, stashing his bike alongside Richie's. With an over the top 'shhh', his index finger to his lips as he looked left and right over the empty park, Richie cracked open the door and disappeared into the Standpipe, leaving Eddie no choice but to follow. 

The door shut behind them, blessedly unlocked, the spiral staircase up between the inner tank and the outer walls dark, but the small windows lit up the stairwell enough to see Richie's back in front of him. He spared a glance out one of the windows as he passed, biting his lip as he noticed the tops of trees getting lower and lower as he made his way up to the top. 

"Have you been up here before?" he asked, his voice echoing off the walls. 

"Uh huh," Richie answered in front of him. "I came with my parents for the Fall tour back in October. Mom wanted to see all the changing trees and shit. It's actually a pretty sweet view." 

Eddie nodded. He had asked his mom to take him on one of the seasonal tours once when he was younger after they talked about it at school. She refused, and then ranted for almost a half hour about how dangerous and dirty and unsafe it was. 'It's bound to be full of mold, Eddie.' He hadn't asked again. 

It didn't take long to get to the top, and before Eddie knew it, Richie was pushing open the door leading out to the promenade deck with a shitty little trumpet-like fanfare. Eddie rolled his eyes, but walked through the door as Richie held it open. 

As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat. "Oh, wow," he breathed, stepping out onto the deck. 

The slight breeze ruffled his hair just a bit as he stepped out to the railing, looking out over the sea of leafy trees and building tops below. He could make out a few of the more prominent and notable buildings of Derry's downtown, as well as a few of the closer houses, but as he circled the perimeter, trailing his fingertips along with railing as he made his way around, he found himself drawn to the foliage, and could only imagine how pretty this view must have been when Richie had come with his parents back in the fall. 

"Cool, huh?" he heard Richie mumble beside him. Eddie nodded, turning to Richie, only to find him already looking his way, a rare, soft smile on his lips, disappearing almost immediately as his eyes widened, before clearing his throat and turning back to the view quickly before Eddie could get a word in edgewise. "Derry looks a lot less shitty from here."

Ignoring whatever that was, (and the sneaky little flip his heart did while it happened), Eddie smiled, joining Richie's side as he leaned over the side of the deck. "Harder to see all the bullshit from this high up," he concurred quietly. 

Richie snorted, and the two fell into comfortable silence, looking out over the town and enjoying the view, occasionally pointing out a building or animal in the distance, but mostly just soaking up each other's company. Eddie had always enjoyed Richie's company, especially when it was just the two of them. Sure, they still teased each other relentlessly, they wouldn't be Richie-and-Eddie without that, but there was always something a little less performative about it when they were alone. 

It was nice.

Not that Eddie would ever admit that of course, but he was pretty sure it went unspoken between them anyway. 

After a while, Richie let out a groan, stretching his arms about his head and cracking his neck. Eddie gagged at the sound, but Richie apparently didn't notice. "So, what's next, Spagh-Eds?" he asked casually. 

"Don't call me that," Eddie snapped reflexively, but opened up his fanny pack to take out his notebook before remembering Richie had taken it. "The Chicago Board of Trade," he said simply, the list pretty much ingrained in his brain anyway. "You know, where they watch the dudes making hand signals about money and shit and then talk about marriage?"

Richie scrunched up his nose. "Not gonna lie, that sounds boring as fuck."

"Well, we don't have to do everything exactly as it is in the movie," Eddie reminded him, rolling his eyes.

"That's true," Richie agreed. "We can make hand signals and talk about marriage here, if we really wanted to. Observe." He smirked, doing a complicated series of hand gestures, and ending by flicking up his middle finger at Eddie, who barked out a laugh and flipped him off in return. 

"Hilarious," he snorted, shoving him in the shoulder. And then, before his brain could catch up with his mouth, asked, "So, what about marriage?"

Richie stilled. "What about it?" he asked, weirdly subdued all of a sudden. Eddie shrugged, going for an air of indifference to cover for his traitorous, impulsive mouth.

"I dunno. Think you'll ever get married?"

The question felt weird on his tongue, and judging by the look on Richie's face, it felt weird to his ears as well. It wasn't something they talked about much, the future, love, romance; so focused on surviving the present and learning from the past. 

It was hard to imagine the kind of girl that could win the affections of Trashmouth Tozier. Not that it was something he thought about often (it wasn't), but it almost hurt Eddie's brain when he did. Sure, Richie was a showboaty flirt, making gross, sexual comments and talking about his dick all the time, but romance? Affection? Tenderness? From Richie? What kind of girl would inspire that kind of behavior from Richie?

Richie, for his part, looked just about as nonplussed by the question as Eddie was, his eyes widening behind his glasses, and his mouth making a tight line. "Dude, I don't know," he answered, a little panicked, his voice cracking. "Why? Is your mom interested?"

Eddie scoffed. "Ugh. Shut up, asshole. Just answer the stupid question."

Richie shrugged, agitated. "I don't know! I've never really thought about it! I mean, have you?"

Honestly, yeah, Eddie had thought about it. Of course he thought about it. The idea of spending forever with someone who loved him unconditionally, who understood him and appreciated him as he was, that he loved as much as they loved him, in the exact way he needed and wanted, who he could talk to about his feelings without fear, someone he chose.

Well, fuck, that was the fucking dream. 

If there was anything Eddie had learned from their little summer horror extravaganza, it was how much he desired the chance to make his own choices. How much he loved the ability to spend time with the people who loved him and cared for him the way he liked being loved and cared for. To decide for himself what he needed. 

And if he never found someone who loved him romantically and let him do that? Fine. He had the Losers, and he would rather die alone than with someone who smothered him and controlled him like his mother had, anyway. 

But of course, he couldn't exactly say any of that to Richie, so instead he just said, "I think I'd like to someday. If I found someone willing to put up with me."

"...What?"

Eddie blinked in surprise at Richie's startled tone of voice. "What?"

"What do you mean 'put up with you'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Dude, I'm a mess."

"You're not–" Richie started, before Eddie shut him up with a glare.

"It's fine," he sighed. "My dad died before I really got a chance to see a marriage first hand, and I have no idea what a healthy relationship is like thanks to Mom, but I think when I get the opportunity to like, pick out people on my own, I do an okay job." He shrugged, letting his expression morph just on the side of vulnerable. It helped that Richie's matched. "And who knows, maybe there's a girl out there who thinks, fucking, anxious hypochondriacs with mommy issues are just her type."

Richie snorted, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "No offense, but she sounds like a nightmare."

Eddie secretly agreed. "You keep fucking dodging my question, dickwad."

"Ugh," Richie groaned, throwing his head back. "I told you, I don't know. I doubt I'll ever get married, even if I wanted to, so it doesn't even matter."

Well, Eddie wasn't sure about that. Sure Richie was... weird. Loud and sometimes inappropriate, with no filter or impulse control. And sure, Eddie had a hard time picturing Richie getting all cozy with a girl, or whatever, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. 

In fact, Eddie decided resolutely, the more he thought about it, the more he decided that yeah, he bet Richie would make a fucking great husband for the right person. He was funny (even though Eddie would never admit he thought so that to his face, he had some pride), loyal to a fault, brave, caring... He was probably the smartest kid in their class, and he was humble enough to not brag about it, but Eddie had seen his grades. 

And it wasn't like Richie wasn't, like... attractive. Sure, he was no Bill Denbrough, and yeah, his glasses made him look sorta bug-eyed and awkward, and he had two buck-teeth right out in front, but it also kind of worked for him. And he was tall, albeit kind of scrawny, but his hair was so soft, and his freckles–

Eddie gulped and cut himself off right there. That was not a train of thought he needed to be going down right now. 

He mentally rewound the last few seconds, and chose to focus on something a little safer. For his own mental health. "You don't want to get married?" 

Richie, looking a little pained, opened his mouth to reply–

"Jay-sus Christ, what have we here, then?"

Eddie and Richie's eyes met almost immediately, Officer Nell's heavily accented voice just reaching them from the base of the Standpipe on the ground below. 

"Fuck," Richie cursed, running to the ledge and peaking over the side. "Fuck!"

"Oh shit," Eddie swore, following him. "What's going on? Is that Mr. Nell? What's he doing?"

"I think he noticed that the door was unlocked."

"Fuck!"

"It's a good thing we stashed our bikes, or else–Oh shit!"

"What?"

Richie flew back from the ledge and began looking around frantically. "He's gonna come up, we gotta–" He cheered, apparently finding what he was looking for, scooping the small, gray rock up off the ground and chucking it down into the trees below.

Eddie rushed to the edge to watch, the rock flying into the trees and rustling the leaves. Mr. Nell's head spun to face the perturbed area, and he backed out of the doorway to look into the woods a little closer. 

As soon as he walked over to the edge of the trees, muttering something Eddie couldn't hear beyond '...bet it's trouble makin' youngsters again....ye should be in school...back when I was a lad...', Richie grabbed his wrist and gave it a rough tug toward the door to the stairwell. 

"Okay, as soon as he goes into the woods, we're making a run for it," he hissed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We'll come back for our bikes later."

Eddie nodded, a thrill of excitement going up his spine, though whether it was from the threat of almost getting caught, or the way Richie was holding onto him, he wasn't sure and wasn't really super into figuring out. "Got it, shit, yeah, okay," he rambled, and Richie blinked at him just once, a small smile creeping onto his lips.

"Dude, are you enjoying this?" he asked, amused. 

Eddie snorted. "What? No. Of course not, don't be an idiot." Richie smirked. Eddie pouted. "Shut up."

"Alright Mr. James Dean over here," Richie quipped, laughing as Eddie elbowed him halfheartedly in the ribs. "Okay, okay, Nell is just about... Go! Go go go!"

His hand still around Eddie's wrist, Richie all but dragged Eddie down the stairs of the Standpipe, out the door, and in the direction of Downtown. They ran, stifling giggles as much as possible, until Richie finally started to slow and Eddie ended up being the one to drag him along for a few yards, more athletic than Richie could ever hope to be, despite his long, lanky limbs. 

They threw themselves behind a tree, panting heavily and watching for any sign that Nell had heard or seen their escape, finally breathing a sigh of relief when they saw him check the door one more time, say something into his radio, and walk back to his car. 

"Holy shit," Richie cackled. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Yeah, well we're gonna have to keep an eye out, there is no way Nell doesn't suspect something," Eddie sighed, still smiling and wiping some sweat from his forehead as he tried to calm his breathing. He hadn't used his inhaler in front of his friends since that summer, and he wasn't about to start now. He checked his watch absently. "It's almost eleven," he mumbled, watching as Richie took his notebook out of his pocket and checked the list. "What's next?"

Richie made a little note on the page, and looked up at Eddie, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Eds," he started, and Eddie knew immediately he wasn't going to like whatever was going to come out of his mouth. "Just call me Abe Froman: Sausage King of Derry."

Eddie only remembered going with his mom a handful of times, usually when one of his aunts was visiting, and his mom wanted to show off. She always, without fail, ordered him some sort of lobster based meal, despite the fact that he didn't even like lobster, and would proceed pout the rest of the night about him wasting money by not eating his dinner, even though he had insisted he would have been fine (happier, even!) had he been allowed to order a burger off the kids menu like he had wanted. 

Eddie had suggested they just swing by a fast food joint where the wait staff weren't paid enough to care about them not being in school, but Richie, in between jokes about the size of his 'sausage', had insisted that if they were going to do this right it had to be somewhere 'fancy' and 'fit for a king!', so there they were.

"They're not going to serve us," Eddie said confidently, shaking his head. Richie continued to dance around in front of the windows, searching around inside of the restaurant for something he didn't feel the need to tell Eddie about.

"Sure they will," he replied flippantly, even though Eddie was fairly confident Richie had no idea if that would truly be the case. "Just gotta make sure...a-ha! Bingo!" He turned to Eddie and beamed, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the door. "C'mon!"

"Stop fucking yanking me around, dipshit!" Eddie cried, but let Richie pull him inside and directly up to the hostess station anyway. 

Behind the podium stood an older woman around their mother's age, with graying dark hair and kind eyes. Kind eyes, currently narrowed suspiciously at the two of them as they approached. 

"Oh, Mr. Tozier," the woman mused, the hint of a smile on her lips. "What a surprise. Is it summer already? I could swear school didn't get out for a few weeks yet."

"Ah, dats where ya wrong, Miss Elfie," Richie croaked out in what was honestly one of the worst fake Chicago accents Eddie had ever heard. "I don't know dis Mistah Tozier character you're talkin' about, but my name's Abe Froman, Sahsage King of Chicahgo. Yous probahbly recognize me from the famously massive size uh my–"

The woman held up her hand to interrupt, looking at Richie just as unamused and uncomfortable as Eddie was. "Right." She grabbed a couple menus from the menu holder and leveled them with a Look. "So table for two, then? Nonsmoking section, I assume?"

Once they were seated at a tiny booth, thankfully nowhere near the windows where someone outside could see them, Eddie smiled pleasantly and thanked the woman, turning to Richie as soon as she walked away. "The fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed.

Richie chuckled, opening his menu. "Eds, relax. Miss Elfie isn't going to squeal, I promise. We have an agreement."

"An agreement."

"Yup."

"What kind of agreement?"

Richie smirked, opening his mouth to answer, or more likely, give a sarcastic, cryptic response, when Miss Elfie appeared back at their table, notebook and pencil in hand and amusement in her eyes. "Okay Mr. Sausage King," she began, causing Eddie to scoff and Richie to grin even wider. "What can I get started for you?"

Richie ordered a grilled ham and cheese with a side of tomato soup and a chocolate milkshake, before turning it over to him with a perky, "How about you, Kielbasa Prince?" 

Eddie and Miss Elfie both stared at him blankly. 

"Cause, you know, you're Polish?" 

"Jesus christ, Rich."

Miss Elfie shook her head, pointedly turning from Richie and focusing on Eddie. "What'll it be, honey?"

Eddie sat himself up a little straighter, the barest thrill of excitement fluttering in his stomach at the idea of ordering exactly what he wanted for once in his life holy shit. "I'll have the classic cheeseburger, medium well, with American cheese. And I'll take all the toppings, but like, on the side, instead of on the burger. Except for the ketchup and mayo, those can come on it, but can I please have the ketchup on the top bun and the mayo on the bottom? Oh! And waffle fries instead of regular fries, if you have them, but if you don't, I'll just take a small salad. With ranch." He paused. "And a vanilla milkshake, please." 

Miss Elfie whistled under her breath, but snapped her notebook closed with the air of a woman who knew how to do her job and do it well. "No problem, cutie. I'll get that right in for you."

Eddie could practically feel Richie vibrating across the table as Miss Elfie walked away, no doubt positively itching to say something about Eddie's order, like an asshole. "What?" he snapped finally. 

Richie, nonplussed, just beamed. "Have you ever seen When Harry Met Sally?" he asked, bizarrely. 

"What?" Eddie asked, taken aback. "Like, the chick flick? Of course not." He blinked. "Have you?"

Richie nodded. "Mags and I watched it together during a mother/son date. It's actually pretty good. Princess Leia is in it!"

Eddie, not having any idea where the fuck Richie was going with this raised an eyebrow. "Okay...?"

"You order food like her," he explained. 

"Who? Princess Leia?"

"Sally!" He laughed, adjusting his glasses. "Actually, you're a lot like Sally now that I think about it. You should start making orgasm noises while we're at it and really complete the picture. 'I'll have what she's having!'"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Oh god, is that the movie we're talking about? That's so gross. I can't believe you watched a scene like that with your mom."

"Yeah, It was a little weird. I'm used to it being your mom I hear sex noises around, after all. Ouch! Hey!"

Eddie smirked, tucking his foot back under himself as Richie rubbed the stop he had kicked on his shin under the table. 

The rest of lunch continued on without much incident. Richie eventually informed Eddie that Miss Elfie had a younger sister who worked as a dental hygienist at his dad's office, but left the rest of their 'agreement' to remain a mystery, not wanting to 'spoil the magic'. He also only made fun of Eddie a little when he got his burger and reconstructed the whole thing to his liking, shrugging and singing "You just want it the way you want it!" which Eddie assumed was another fucking movie quote, so he pointedly ignored it. 

He was finally getting to eat what he wanted, at a restaurant, damnit, not even Richie being an idiot was going to spoil that for him. 

Besides, his burger was fucking perfect.

When Richie wasn't quoting When Harry Met Sally or talking about his fucking 'sausage', they fell into easy conversation about school or the Losers, or their parents, and Eddie was reminded, not for the first time that day, how easy and enjoyable it was spending time with Richie. Even amongst the Losers, he and Richie always had a closer reltionship than most, and although rare these days, Eddie often found himself seeking out the other boy's sole company more when he had the chance. Time spent with just Richie was easy, it was fun, it was...

Well, it was kind of his favorite.

Richie was kind of his favorite. 

Miss Effie came by with the bill as they worked on finishing their milkshakes, the little scrap of paper reading only 'Put it on your tab, Mr. Froman! You're the wurst. :)' with a little doodle of a hot dog wearing a crown that sent both of them into hysterics. 

They pooled their cash to leave a nice tip for Miss Elfie and decided to walk back to the Standpipe and retrieve their bikes, Eddie leading them around all the back roads once more, reminding Richie to keep his eye out for Nell every time they turned a corner. "

"What's next?" Eddie asked, once their bikes were safely back in their possession. "Don't they go...to the Cubs game?"

Richie pulled the notebook out of his pocket, flipped to the right page, and grinned. "Eddie Spaghetti knocks it out of the park!"

Eddie's stomach did an excited little flip. Looks like they were headed to the baseball field.