Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s fucking freezing.” Eddie spoke, brown eyes directed at the floor.

They all knew what they were getting into when they rented the caravan, what they weren’t aware of was how cold the nights would be or how uninsulated it would be. Perhaps they could have researched it more, or just have asked the owner. Maybe they could have brought more blankets, maybe some warmer coats. But they didn’t. And here Eddie sat on a log, in front of a fire, still freezing his ass off in those cursed tiny shorts thanks to his wish to not get too close to a fire.

“G-Get closer to fire th-then, you’re nuh-not going to b-burst into flames.” Bill laughed as he sat curled up across from Eddie, jaw resting on Beverly’s shoulder as they swayed in a drunken, imperfect unison.

“I know that, dickwad. But you realise that the wind could blow flames into your face at any time? I’d rather die of hypothermia in any case I’d survive.

He frowned and still sat there, wallowing in his own misery as Bev held the whiskey bottle, taking one last swig before dropping it and listening to it clang.

The drinks had already been shared around, everyone getting drunk off their asses while Eddie had little to nothing. Except Richie, for once. He let out a small huff of air mocking a laugh as he thought about Richie being the only one to not drink. Then his mind started to wonder, why? he looked up.

Richie sat in the same place he had for what was pretty much this whole time, back pressed against a tree with a weighted blanket draped over his lap. Eddie spotted a headphone cord over his chest and plugged into his treasured walkman. He almost thought he was sleeping, but he thought again when Richie looked down at him, black curly fringe just barely avoiding his view.

Eddie turned his head to look away, despite the odd desperation he felt to keep eye contact.

“Guys, I think it’s time to head inside. It’s getting cold and Eddie, Your face is red. I wouldn’t be surprised if your nose turned blue next.” Mike half-joked, standing up to his feet and leaving his hand stretched behind him to help Stan up too.

Eddie still sat despite the advice, he knew he should listen to Mike, he only ever wants the best for any of them. Yet, he felt as if he couldn’t move from that spot. Or at the very least, shouldn’t. It wasn’t necessarily that he felt good there, the opposite in fact, in the cold weather his legs were shivery and covered in goose-bumps. Yet he felt somehow that there was a force holding him there. Not a hand grasping him and forcing him in place, not a hand strangling his neck just barely able to breath, but something telling him that he didn’t have to go inside if he didn’t want, or encouraging him to stay there on the wooden log, even with shorts in freezing weather.

“Eddie? Eddie!” Ben spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“hm?”

“we’re going back inside. Mike's right, it’s REALLY cold.” he smiled gently as he ushered Beverly and Bill up, but Eddie still sat silent. “Are you coming?”

He just looked down to the fire as a response while all three of them walked off without another word. Comforting silence, not hurtful or spiteful, but comforting. It was fine.

He looked back at Richie, still sitting in the same spot.

“Why don’t you want to go near the fire?” Richie spoke up, bobbing his head towards the crackling mess to prove his point. The whiskey bottle was still on the floor next to it. Empty and sad.

“Well…” Eddie trailed off. “I-... I don’t want to hurt myself or anything. Burn myself.”

Richie smiled, taking his headphones off and pausing whatever was playing on the walkman.

“You’re ridiculous, spaghetti.” He said, gathering his walkman in his arms whilst making his way up and towards the log.

He looked into the fire. It looked warm, hot. Enough to burn. To kill.

Eddie was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a thigh against his own. Richie’s thigh. He felt warm. So much warmer.

“Fucking hell, you’re freezing. Take the blanket.” Richie swore, pulling the blanket from under his arm and draping it over his shoulders, Richie’s finger brushing over the back of his neck as he did so which made Eddie let out a silent, involuntary gasp.

The blanket was heavy but warm. ‘It smells like Richie.’ He thought as he brought his freezing hand up to grab the side of the blanket and pull it down across his chest.

‘It smells like cigarettes and vanilla. Like old perfume and terrible orange scented soap. Like Bev's coconut shampoo and sterile wipes he uses to clean his cuts. It smells like Richie.’ he thought as he brought the blanket up, now covering the bottom half of his face as he took in the smell. The familiar smell.

Eddie always liked scents. He enjoyed picking them apart and thinking of what they meant. What they said about a person. He didn’t know when it started. He supposed it had always been. Analysing a person by how they appeared, spoke and smelt before they even said a word.

Beverly smelt like cigarettes too, but masked under her lavender perfume and coconut shampoo. Stanley always smelt like the hand sanitiser Eddie forced him to use. Really the only person that used it. He smelt like wax and in an odd way, wet rocks. Mike too smelt like wet rocks. Wet rocks and oak leaves. Ben smelt of chocolate and apricots. Bill of dried fruit, clean sheets and lilac.

No matter how much he wanted to prefer the smell of the overpriced perfume Greta would use, he was always tied back to Richie’s smell. He didn’t know what it was about it that was so addictive.

Maybe it was the way Richie always sat there when Eddie needed to rant despite his reputation of never shutting up.

Or maybe it was the way Richie would stop the ‘your mom’ jokes after Eddie had an argument with his mom.

Maybe it was the way he gave Eddie his Elton John shirt after hearing he loved the artist. The way he excused it with “I prefer Bowie, anyway..”

Maybe it was the way Richie looked at Eddie. Like he was doing now. In the cold midnight air with his walkman by his side, still holding his thigh next to Eddie’s.

“Why didn’t you drink?” Eddie whispered, he didn’t know why he did. Maybe it was the 5 hours of sleep finally weighing on him.

Richie’s eyes travelled down from Eddie’s face to the place the blanket draped over his chest.

“I don’t know. Didn’t really feel like it. For once I felt like the person to watch my friends be stupid and not join in on the fun. Like you, I guess.” Richie brought his hands together and picked at the skin.

“Don’t do that.”

“hm?”

“Don’t pick your cuticles. You’re gonna bleed and I already used half my bandaids on Bill.” Richie snorted remembering the way his friend ran through the dark, quickly falling face first into the bundle of sticks Mike and Stan had gathered just before they lit the fire.

“Why didn’t you drink?”

“well..” Eddie paused. “Mostly spite, if I'm honest. In a bad mood and I didn’t feel like elevating it with drinks.”

“You’re a grumpy little shit, you know that, right?” Richie smiled and bumped his knee against Eddie’s to prove his point. A point that he was joking and had no mean to agonise him. The touch was nice, it was well-meaning and soft. God, his leg was soft.

Richie moved his leg away quickly when he realised Eddie was staring. Eddie moved his head to look at Richie’s face instead, he was blushing. He looked.. Embarrassed. But beautiful.

“You look nice.” He said, words he barely had the courage to say aloud. It’s just a compliment. It’s fine. Scooting closer, he pressed his thigh to Richie’s again. He didn’t know why he did.

It was probably just the cold.

Richie angled his head to just barely point away from him, but when Eddie looked up, be could clearly see the splotches of freckles across his face and neck mix with a pink blush. His hand rested just below his chin and his hand covered his mouth.

He mumbled something.

“What?”

“You have nno-…” He spoke, cutting himself off.

“Rich, what?” he laughed, confused.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me.” Richie turned his head to make eye contact, before moving his spare hand down to his thigh and digging his fingernails into the skin there.
“…oh.” Eddie looked back down. He was sure his face was bright red, maybe he could blame it on the cold?

He knew Richie was gay.

He had, for a long time. He was the only one to know.

He still thought back to that day in Richie’s room, the day he cleaned Richie’s beat up face and bleeding limbs, his bruises and grazed knees. The day Bowers and his goons went too far. Further than they’d gone before.

“This is insane, Rich! Why did they even do this? What did you do?” He recounted yelling, concerned and angry.

“I-…” Richie cut himself off “I’m gay. They found out.”

“you- what!?”

“I’m- I- I’m a fucking-.” He sobbed.

He remembered hugging Richie. He remembered the tears and he could never forget how distraught he was. How in pain and broken he was.

But he healed. He let himself heal.

The thought never even occurred to Eddie that Richie being gay would effect their relationship. Effect him.

But.. It was effecting him. Effecting him greatly.

Eddie turned around, the blanket falling off his shoulders as he did so, and grabbed the collar of Richie’s shirt, slamming their lips together.

The kiss was sloppy and needy, but so sweet. Any thought of the germs that could be spread faded away in his mind replaced with ‘Richie, Richie, Richie.’

Eddie pulled back to breath but Richie, eyes still wide open, connected their lips again and closed his eyes as his hands wondered to the back of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie opened his mouth and Richie took it as an invitation to stick his tongue in, exploring his mouth as if trying to memorise every tooth.

Eddie shuffled slightly and moved himself as best he could onto Richie’s lap, grabbing handfuls of Richie’s dark, curly hair while he was at it and pulled their faces closer.

Eddie pulled away, catching his breath and trying to sober himself after the sudden high that was kissing Richie Tozier

“Eds-“

“Don’t call me Eds” He whispered and slammed their lips together again, his mind blank and too addicted to the feeling to stop. He felt like he would never be able to pull away again.

Richie shuffled beneath him, pulling his hands down from his neck to his upper thighs to grope him slightly and pull him up, resulting in a sudden gasp Richie quickly swallowed by reconnecting their lips as he laid them down onto the log, still grasping onto Eddie’s hips for dear life.

Richie pulled himself away gently to gasp for air as Eddie left gentle kisses across his face, soon moving down to his neck and sucking.

“Aah..” Richie let out an involuntary moan, the feeling was so good, so good, so addictive. “Hang on, let me..”

Eddie reluctantly pulled away, Richie quickly picking him up again and switching their positions on the log before moving his lips back down and onto his friend’s.

Richie, now on top of Eddie, kissed down his neck and sucked love bites onto his upper neck and below his ear. Testing the water, he licked a stripe up from Eddie’s collar to his chin as Eddie moaned his name. “Rich..”

Richie pulled away, off Eddie. He stumbled off the log to stand and make distance between the two.

“Richie?” Eddies eyes widened at the realisation Richie wasn’t with him

“I- Oh no, oh no, Eds…” He stuttered and moved his hands to cover his mouth. “We- We can’t… Eddie, I’m so sorry” He sobbed, grasping at his own thin waist.

“What? Richie it’s okay, what’s wrong?” Eddie stared in disbelief, was it his fault? Did Richie not like this? Like him?

“No… I can’t- This is bad. Oh shit, this is really bad.” Richie stumbled backwards, the fire still burning bright.

“Richie!“

“Fuck!” he gasped, the burn was hot on the back of his calf, quickly jolting forward he doubled down, Eddie quickly rushing to his side.

“Rich- Are you okay? What- How bad is it? Show me-“ Eddie rambled, panicked and pupils still blown wide.

“Eds- I need to treat this. I’m so sorry.” Richie muttered, tears forming and rolling down his face as he reluctantly picked himself up and limped to the caravan.

Chapter Text

The walk back to the caravan was cold, distant, even.

He tried his best to ignore the lingering pain of his leg and kept moving forward, he felt drunk despite it being the one time he decided against drinking.

The tears were still rolling down his face but he tried to not acknowledge it, when he’d finally made his way to the caravan he tried to do the deep breathing his mother had always told him to.

He tried to deep breath, as if it had even helped him once. Maybe it could help him one time. one fucking time.

Quickly abandoning the idea, he twisted the handle on the caravan door and stepped inside, only for it to remind him of the sting on his leg. Ignoring it as best he could, he stumbled his way through and towards his bag, wherever he last left it.

The stinging pain reminded him of past fights, past injuries. Of course it did, something as small as a paper-cut had been ticking him off recently. Reminding him of Bowers, his father. Hell, even IT was something that came up in his mind when he’d get hurt. It was the feeling of powerlessness, the feeling of his pain being inflicted on him by someone he didn’t have control over. His body was his. The feeling of pain he inflicted onto his body was his

He stumbled through the dark caravan and made his way towards his backpack, borrowing Eddie’s while he was already there. He could give it back later, but he needed to bandage himself up. Find some painkillers, hopefully some type of cream.

The bathroom was close by, luckily, and he slid past through the door, fumbling with the lock to try to give himself the false comfort of privacy, or of being alone. Sometimes he found that the feeling of loneliness was essential. It was one of the things that made him himself. No matter how many friends he would have, he always found a way to feel alone.

He tried to avoid the feeling, the self pity. Now’s not the time to feel bad for himself, he needed to do something, help heal the burn. Or at the very least, avoid an infection.

Now sitting on the cold floor of the caravan bathroom, he reached for Eddie’s fanny pack and pulled the zipper open. He quickly found a small, neat role of bandages and placed them by his side. He could only hope that Eddie had packed some kind of ointment.

He moved his hand within the fanny pack again and again, scurrying through it and trying to find something that could help. The burn was only stinging more and more as time went on and the lingering feeling that he deserved the pain he felt was increasing.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, pushing aside the fanny pack and burying his head in his arms.

When curled up there, he stared at the scars on his arms.

They twisted around the wrist in pink loops, taunting him and reminding him that he had ever stooped that low. Reminding him of the feeling, the feeling of the sadness, the anger. It’d been a long while since he’d done anything like that. 7 months? 8, if he was generous?

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to escape whatever emotion he was drowning in, the breathing exercises again? In, and out. In, out.
Those breathing exercises were never gonna fucking work, were they?

His fingernails dug into the skin of his elbows and his legs started to shiver.

Everything was so much, way too much. He needed to do something, he needed to fix the burn or scream or find a razor or something, for fucks sake!

“Rich?” Someone spoke from outside the door. Their voice was soft and light, perfectly careful. “Richie, please? Are you okay?” He heard Eddie’s hand hit the door in a saddening manner. Not at all angry, nor forceful.

Worried, or scared, if anything.

“Chee, please. Unlock the door?”

It was all too much. Richie needed to do something else, be anywhere else. His chest rose up and down as he took in steady breaths.

“I can help with the burn.” Eddie’s voice flattened. “If you need help.”

He sounded dejected. That wasn’t something he could allow to happen. Not now, not after all the pain he’d already caused him.

“I-I’ll unlock the door,” He blurted out. “don’t-“

scurrying to the door he reached up to the lock, still sitting down and desperately trying to avoid hitting his leg on the floor again, he reached up and fumbled with the lock, watching the door slide open, he found himself looking back at the floor.

Eddie spotted his discarded fanny pack and gently kicked it further out the way, soon falling onto the cold flooring next to Richie.

He looked over to Richie. And he grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You- You didn’t- You’re alright? Rich?” Eddie cried between breaths and dug his fingers tighter into the cotton shirt.

The hug lingered for a moment, but soon Eddie pulled away and shifted to look at the burn. But not before sneaking a glance at Richie’s wrist.

“Okay,” Eddie sighed, “I’m going to need you to lift this up. Reduce swelling.” He took hold of Richie’s ankle and gently lifted it up, before long he was reaching for his fanny pack and placing it below the ankle for support.

“Y’know, you really do look like a doctor right now.”

“Shut up, asshole.” Eddie shot back, “I’m fairly sure you’re not flexible enough to put your leg in the sink so we may have to use a cloth, that will hurt more though.” It almost sounded like he was talking to himself more than he was Richie.

He stepped up to the sink and shifted around the room, looking for something to soak in the cool water with. He soon found a towel and picked it up, wetting the corner.

“okay Tozier, it just looks like first-degree, you’re fucking lucky.” Eddie’s eyes looked like they shone as he held the cold surface to Richie’s burn. He was so focused. It was cute.

Richie took in a sharp breath. More for show, if he was honest. It may look to Eddie like he was actually concerned with the wound and not just staring at him.

“We’re gonna have to hold this here for awhile. Tell me if it starts to feel warm and we’ll replace it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He kept hoping that Eddie would break it. Throw a playful insult Richie could clap back at and they’d go from there, but instead both stayed quiet. Richie couldn’t help but break it.

“Can we pretend tonight didn’t happen?” Richie forced out in a weak tone. It sounded awkward and his voice cracked lightly in several words. It was awfully teenage.

“What-?” Eddie looked up and quickly cut himself off. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He looked back down and Richie followed as they fell into a loud silence.

The room was surprisingly small. He felt far too close to Eddie and his heart felt as if it was beating out his chest. He couldn’t even focus on the stinging pain of the burn, all he could feel was his brain shut down and his ears start to ring as he again and again repeated in his head ‘let this end, let this end, let this end.’.

The tiles were cold. Richie moved his hand to pick at a crack in one of them and the thought of Eddie slowly started to drift away.

“I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed, okay?” Eddie muttered, avoiding any eye-contact.

“Yeah. Sleep well, spagheds.” He let out in a monotone kind of voice. He just sat there and let himself stew in the uncomfortableness and the niggling feeling of dread in his stomach like a frog starting to boil.

Things were changing, weren’t they?