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The quarry simmers with heat, its spring-green waters rippling.
It should be the perfect day to go swimming with his friends, but he can't.
Eddie's gigantic, yellowing cast itches like hell. He scratches unconsciously over its molding. It's infuriating as Eddie struggles with the removal of a pop-tab to his can of grape soda. "Hey, you want a-any help there?' Bill offers, smiling a little. He plops next to Eddie on a sun-warmed boulder, completely dripping wet in his underwear.
"I can do it!" he yells back, flushing with shame when Bill's expression falls.
Bill opens his mouth, maybe to apologize, but hesitates and closes it.
Stanley gives him a slightly disapproving look — and like Eddie, he's still fully clothed. There's no more bandages on Stanley's face, but very faint pink scarring.
"Eds, don't take it out on him. It's not his fault."
"Actually—"
"Oh, knock it off already," Beverly grumbles, also dripping wet. One of her ivory-hued bra's straps loosely hangs off her shoulder. "Maybe if you weren't being such a whiny baby—" She grabs Eddie's soda from him, cracking apart the pop-tab and handing everything back to him.
He doesn't thank her, but slowly sips on the purplish foam, eyeing the curly, reddened glisten to her wet hair. She and Richie spent the most time in the water, splashing and laughing, beckoning to the others.
A knot of something hot and twisty rises in Eddie's gut. He's never seen Richie openly befriend someone this quickly.
Everybody admires Beverly for being tough and headstrong, but also a sweetheart. She fights for what she believes in. Beverly shares her cigarettes, and Richie often is the first one to grab one, leaning into her comfortably, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip, when they light their ends with a Zippo stolen from the pharmacy's desk.
No way Eddie could never hate her. Not after everything they've been through… but why does Richie…?
Richie snorts out laughter.
"Eddie's not a baby. He just fusses," he announces, grinning widely when Eddie rolls his eyes and tosses Richie a mild 'whatever you say' stare. But for good measure, Eddie tosses his lightweight, silvery pull-tab from his can as well, flicking Richie between his eyes.
This just creates more laughter, from Richie and from everybody else. Beverly's lips curl up.
Richie lifts it up, poking his shriveled, pinky finger through the opening of pull-tab. He holds out his left hand in front of himself dramatically.
"Ahww, I'll cherish it forever~~" he uses one of his Voices, and Eddie immediately recognizes it as one of their grade-school teachers. The one who was so love with her next-door neighbor turned husband that she would daydream during their reading hour, examining her own wedding ring as if it was made of pure starlight.
Flush-color burns on Eddie's cheeks.
"Stick it up your nose for all I care, dumbass," he mumbles, pretending to ignore the wink.
.
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Beverly moves to Portland. She visits during the summer.
Much to his irritation, Eddie think he's still the smallest and the shortest of the Losers. Richie seems to grow an inch every month, along with his wild, dark hair. He doesn't fill out at all, but stumbles around with a gangly, awkward rhythm that perfectly suits Richie somehow and makes him genuinely hilarious.
In a year, Ben also moves away, along with his mom and aunt and cousin, out towards New York state.
Bill's gloominess heightens, and the rest of his friends do their best to make everything feel normal. Richie suggests they all start a band, naming off who would play what instrument (Eddie doesn't mind the suggestion of being on tambourine or harmonica. He's practiced whistling through his fingers since he was eight, and inherited his father's old Marine harmonica. It feels nice to be carrying a physical memory around).
In a year after, Richie gets hospitalized for mono. They don't see him until Christmas, bright-eyed and dimpled, his nose raw-red in the cold. He kisses Eddie on March 16, 1991, the same day as the NYE Pride March and the same day Eddie's mom finds out he's gay. She doesn't kick him out — only insists he's so, so sick and needs help.
Eddie sneaks out of his house in the middle of the night, his heart racing.
He climbs into Richie's window, howling and ranting, his fury so palpable that Richie trembles with him, trying to shush Eddie before his parents hear, cradling his face. Richie's lips taste like peach-nectar and a tinge of black, smoky nicotine. Eddie holds him so tightly that his bones ache, and his chests stutters for air until Richie whispers his name against Eddie's mouth, pressing their lips together again, chuckling and pulling off his glasses.
It's hard to believe they're here, twin heartbeats under flannel, with Richie's arms drowsily circling his waist. He snores into Eddie's neck until sunrise.
Then another year passes.
Eddie sees a familiar, silvery pull-tab, and how it's tucked firmly underneath Richie's steel guitar strings.
"You really are a dumbass," he mumbles, leaning in and sleepily pressing his lips against the other teen's darkly stubbled chin, grinning.
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IT 2017 isn't mine. AAAH I LOVE THEM. Okay so I'm been helping as a volunteer moderator at the ItFandomSecretSanta blog on Tumblr and we had a bunch of dropouts. It's unfortunate, but I am also determined to make sure everybody gets a gift! So this is being gifted to the marvelous Jaleesa (arielgirly on Tumblr) who asked for something with IT 2017 and I hope they enjoy it! :) And I hope you guys who ship Reddie do too! Any comments/thoughts appreciated!