Dead August heat rolled through the hills rising and falling along Derry's borders. School was restarting, kids and young adults alike swarming the stores to get last minute supplies and running wild in the streets as the sun soaked season came to a close. The dog days were far from over, however, and the house was sweating.

Bill had got a job at the high school teaching literature and creative writing. He got the call giving him the job sometime in July. He had become so overwhelmed with excitement that he had grabbed onto the closest thing in range - Stan's arm - and squeezed and shook it, all the while Stan smiling broadly and saying, "What is it girl? Is Timmy trapped in a well?"

When he'd hung up, he ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide and crazed and he laughed with such a feeling that Stan couldn't help but laugh with him. "I got the fucking job!" He screamed, sweeping Stan up into a hug and spinning him around. Stan held on tightly, so goddamned proud of his best friend. They'd gone out to the Brickyard - where Bev worked - and celebrated by having too much to drink.

But Bill was also somewhat let down that the school year was starting back up - that meant Audra was leaving Derry again. She'd been staying up at the Flagg house over the summer but reality was setting in and things had to go back to the way they were before. That meant Audra had NYU and Bill had Derry.

He had driven her to the airport, Mike and Beverly loading up behind them to take the drive. They knew Bill wouldn't want to be alone on the drive home. When they got to the loading-and-unloading-of-passengers-only zone, Bill got out, grabbing her suitcase and lugging it to the curb, biting back tears. He didn't know why he wanted to cry, it wasn't like he'd never see her again. They'd had a detailed discussion on how long distance relationships could go. Bill was worried she'd find someone smarter, more handsome, better than he, and he told her so. They sat with their foreheads pressed together in the backyard, fingers interlaced, discussing everything.

"Bill," she said quietly. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

He looked at her, confused. "How so?" She had smiled, perfect pink lips curling at the edges.

"I think we've passed the falling stage and are straight up in love is all." She kissed him gently on the mouth and he had taken her face in his hands, shaking a little.

And now she was going away. They'd decided to go for it, to be in love from far away. They would FaceTime whenever they could, text constantly, and Audra even suggested they could write letters. Then on the breaks they could fly up and visit. Audra even suggested he come spend Christmas with her family, which he was more than okay with considering how quiet his own home was around the holidays. They had spent the night together just before her flight, and finally, as Richie had so eloquently put it over the radio waves not weeks ago, "sealed the deal", making love to the setting sun and a special playlist Ben had provided.

"You got everything?" Bill said to her as she adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder, hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

She hmmm'd and counted something off on her hand. "Yes, I think so," she dug through her purse briefly and nodded as she confirmed whatever she was looking for was inside. "Yea, all set."

They stared sadly at each other for a long minute until an airport attendant said to them sternly, "Alright we need to move it along."

Bill glared at him and then Audra wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing up into his back and clutching his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly.

When she said it at first, he didn't quite hear her, her face muffled into his chest. "Hmm?" He said, his heart beginning to race for some reason. The attendant was coming their way again but he couldn't go without hearing what she had to say, he had to hear it.

"I said I love you, Bill." She said looking up at him and his heart burst in his chest a hundred times over. He couldn't stop smiling, all he could feel was this deep burning sensation that took to his lungs and made his legs feel like rubber.

His stutter started to choke up again as he sputtered out, "I-I love you t-too, Audra." And he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her so hard their teeth rattled together, Beverly and Mike hollering from the car, Mike reaching up to the front seat and honking the horn a few times.

The attendant was next to them again, starting to say something and Bill held a hand out to shut him up - "Yeah, yeah move it along, we got it." He kissed her once more and ran to the driver's seat, beaming like a kid who just got the best gift in the world for Christmas.

"I love you, Audra Phillips!" He called as she walked towards the sliding doors.

"And I love you William Denbrough!" She said, turning and cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone.

Bill got in the car and slammed the door. Bev and Mike were screaming at him, "YOU SAID IT YOU SAID THE LOVE WORD OH MY GOD!" A train's length of cars had piled up in the turning lane behind him but Bill didn't even notice. He was on the moon, completely head over heels in love with that damn girl.

The other Losers were taking the end of the summer in stride, trying their best to get in everything the season had to offer before the air chilled and the leaves began to twist and fall into the dirt. Stan and Eddie planned a group outing to the quarry, complete with a picnic and maybe a small bonfire - Stan didn't seem to think they could get away with it, but Ben personally didn't see why not. He could build a makeshift fire pit, scraping some dirt into a wide circle on the tiny substitute beach and surround it with rocks. Richie said quietly, "Smores?" And Bev had nodded vigorously.

They went down on a Tuesday afternoon, packing up sandwiches, homemade potato salad - Stan's recipe - hot dogs, some beer, chocolate pudding - they assumed, that was Richie's contribution - some other snacks, and all the fixings for Smores. Mike and Ben set to building the fire pit, the others stripping their clothes from sticky sweaty bodies and going for a swim.

By the time they had finished the pit, a three foot round groove in the sand with a small makeshift wall stacked up shin high with flatter-sitting stones, the others were ready to eat. Mike stacked kindling and yellowed grass on top of one another in a teepee fashion and lit it using Bev's purple lighter. It burned up slowly, starting as a thick grey smoke that made Eddie cough before it grew into a full on flame, crackling and spitting as Bill and Ben roasted hot dogs. The sky was clear, no clouds blocking out the raging sun to protect their skin. Eddie insisted on slathering everyone of them in what felt like a gallon of sunscreen each, Mike making a comment about needing it the most while Richie said he'd rather burn than wear what he was going to henceforth refer to as "Sun-Repellant-Semen," to which Eddie replied, "Beep beep, Rich."

The sun baked them from overhead, Beverly laying out on a yellow towel with her heart shaped sunglasses on. She chatted with Richie about the radio gig, pulling a cigarette to her lips occasionally and taking a drag.

Eddie and Bill were talking about the teaching position - Eddie, for some reason, was upset that he no longer had to go to school.

"I went for nearly two decades of my life and now I have nothing to do!" He cried.

Stan and Mike, sitting with their knees touching, looked at him incredulously. "Why is that an issue? You have an adult job now!" Stan said, stretching his legs out in front of him to dry near the fire.

Eddie shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it was just nice to have something to do. I always had tests to study for or notes to look over. Now I feel stagnant."

They understood, even if they didn't feel the same. There was something familiar to them of the halls of the Derry public school system, something like home. Even if they didn't always like it or feel safe there - thank you Henry Bowers - it was where they all started to become friends.

Richie tossed the remainder of his cigarette in the fire and exhaled the smoke, his mouth a small 'o'. He went and sat next to Eddie, more on top of him than next to really, taking him under his arm. Eddie let it rest there, sighing in anticipation of whatever crude or ridiculous thing was about to come out of his mouth.

"I feel you Eddie. And if you'd like, later tonight, you can feel me." The group groaned. It was like he wasn't even trying anymore.

Beverly laughed and sat up, digging her fingertips into the sand. "Rich you are one bad joke away from getting punched in the dick, I swear."

Bill stood abruptly, remembering, and shouted, "Oh yeah!" And he made a rush at Richie, who tumbled backwards over the rock he had been sitting on and hopped up, running towards the water.

"Fuck you and the horse you road in on, Richard Tozier!" He screamed, laughing as Richie dived poorly into the quarry, Bill splashing in behind him. Beverly and Stan joined next, Mike, Ben, and Eddie watching, shaking their heads.

They went home around 7, the sun beginning to come down from its peak at the top of the sky. They had all ridden along in Beverly's jeep, piled arms and legs on top of one another. Ben had his arm laced over the armrest, Bev's hand resting on top of it. Bill was stuck in next to Eddie and Richie on his other side, Stan and Mike in the back. Bill looked over at Eddie, who was passed out, his head laying on Richie's shoulder, his legs pulled up and kneeing Richie in the chest. Richie had placed his arm around his shoulders, snuggling him in tightly to his body. He was staring out the window, a small smile on his face.

Bill watched them for a moment, pondering the situation. It wasn't terribly strange, he thought; Richie had always been affectionate with Eddie, even moreso than with Bev or Stan.

There were several different dynamics that took place inside the Losers Club, something Beverly had once called, "Platonic Couplehood."

There was Ben and Beverly, clearly connected by their relationship status. But Bev and Richie were closer than close, connecting over their families and smoking habits. Then Richie had Stan, and they were the type of best friends to roast each other but then fight to the teeth anyone who got in their way. There was also Richie and Eddie, who had a sort of flirty friendship. Which really meant Richie flirted and Eddie complained about it. Stan was close with Bill, Richie, and Mike. He and Mike both loved animals and they were often hanging out birdwatching in the park or down at the Barrens. Stan and Bill were close like brothers, with Stanley being the younger of the two Bill felt it necessary to keep watch over him. Sometimes it felt like Stan was holding things back, but like a good elder brother, Bill didn't push the issue. Mike was also close with Ben, bonding over their love of math and literature, of blooming spring trees and the taste of rhubarb pie. Mike was also close to Beverly after they had a heart to heart on the bleachers after school one day. They knew more about one another than they let on. Eddie had Richie, of course, but Bill was his best-best friend. Bill had been placed next to Eddie on the first day of kindergarten and from there their friendship was a deal sealed in blood.

They were all thick as thieves, but there were some portions of their lives the others didn't know. For a moment Bill felt a twinge of jealousy somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but he buried it.

"Rich," he whispered so as not to wake Eddie. He was a mouthbreathing sleeper, completely surrendered to what took him under and glued him to whatever was closest to him, whether that be a pillow, blankets, or in this case, Richie.

Richie turned and his smile wavered briefly, as if it had been completely unintentional. He nodded at him.

Bill pointed a finger quickly between he and Eddie, smiling wildly. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Is something going on here?"

Richie pulled his classic smirk, one corner of his mouth curving the dimple in his cheek. "A gentleman never kisses and tells," he replied, looking back out the window.

"And when have you ever been a gentleman?" Mike chuckled, Stan slapping him lightly on the arm.

Richie, turning so that his hair flipped over his shoulder, gave Mike a shit-eating grin. "Shit, you fucking right." He brought up his free hand to bump fists with him, Stan and Bill rolling their eyes.

Bill caught Richie looking up at the rear view mirror, blinking slowly and nodding. In the reflection, Beverly and he were making eye contact, strong and dedicated.

When they arrived home, twilight had begun to settle, the sky a mix of violets and pinks. Mike carried a sleeping Eddie halfway to the door before he woke up, squirming in Mike's arms. "Put me down, dude, I have legs!"

They had all laughed as Eddie straightened his sweatshirt and walked proudly up the steps as if he hadn't just been up in strong arms bridal style. Richie and Beverly fell back, lighting cigarettes. Bill stopped momentarily too, looking at Richie as he watched Eddie go up inside, followed by Stan, Mike, and Ben. Bill wanted to join them, even ask for a cigarette himself perhaps to be able to join the conversation, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Audra, and he took the opportunity to push away his doubt once more by answering it. Doubt, he wondered, was that the right word? Or maybe moreover an absent feeling, like he was missing out on some big grand thing. Something was coming. He just didn't know what.

Eddie yawned, pulling the back of his fist to his mouth. He was sprawled out on Richie's bed, the blankets pulled up around his legs. Stan and Richie were playing Battlefront on the tiny television, Stan clearly beating Richie with his CGI Luke Skywalker.

"You're fucking cheating!" Richie cried, elbowing Stan in the ribs.

He laughed. "How the hell could I cheat! I'm better than you, just admit it!"

"No way, you're playing as a terrorist!" He replied.

Eddie joined Stan in laughing this time, and Richie turned to look at him. He almost forgotten he was there he had been so engrossed in the game.

"How are the rebels terrorists, Rich? They just want freedom like everyone else."

Richie scoffed. "They blew up the Freedom Star, Edward. There were families and shit living there. Regular Joes. The dudes who cleaned toilets got blown up, too."

He watched Eddie's face, his mouth moving silently as he explained something, but he couldn't hear it. He was suddenly too caught up in the soft curves and jagged peaks of his face. The way his hair, so fucking curly goddamn, licked the top of his ears and swept across his forehead. Deep set chocolate eyes that glittered whenever he talked to him, set above a spattering of light freckles over his nose and cheekbones. He watched his lips, which always seemed like they were in a perpetual smirk, well at least whenever he was talking to Richie. They were so over-moisturized, something Richie liked to tease him about, threatening to press his own chapped ones against them. Something purred inside Richie's stomach, a slowly growing ache that he didn't recognize.

"...and the Empire is literally based off fascist Nazi Germany." Eddie finished whatever he was saying.

Richie shook his head, coming back down. "Uhh..." he said, trying to remember what the hell was just said.

"Literally in the room with a Jew, Trashmouth. Try not to say anything too fucking stupid." Stan said, staring slack jawed at the tv, still killing Stormtroopers and other Imperial bad guys.

Richie pursed his lips at Stan. "I wasn't saying anything like that, besides you're not even really that Jewy. And anyways, y'all know I'm a fucking slut for Organa."

Stan snorted. "Senator or General?"

"Yes." Richie replied.

He turned and winked at Eddie. And for the first time in maybe forever, Eddie didn't roll his eyes or look away. Instead, he laughed, the sound bell-like, and held his eyes for a very long time. It was Richie who finally looked away, blush taking to his cheeks and the purr growing.

The feeling made him nauseous, it was new and unexpected, and he couldn't help but think maybe he was getting food poisoning. Why did Eddie look at him like that? Why didn't he look away? He usually looked away when Richie said stupid shit. Or he gave back something to get him to shut up. Not this time, and it drove Richie to smile at his controller, glasses sliding down his nose.

For what may have been the first time in his 23 years, Richie Tozier was absolutely speechless, one thought swimming in his mind.

Eddie Kaspbrak hadn't looked away.

He stood trembling outside the room, drumming his fingers on his legs. His heart was beating steadily in his ears, and he exhaled to steady himself. He just had to do it.

Richie banged the side of his fist against Beverly's door, trying to catch his breath. Why the fuck was he so nervous? Shit, why was he being so formal? He should have just stormed in and said everything running through his mind.

"Yeah?" Beverly's voice came from inside.

"It's me," his voice cracked and he felt like a thirteen year old boy once more, legs shaking as he shot up and voice splitting every other syllable.

"Uh, come in?" And he did before she'd even finished her sentence.

She was laying on her stomach on the bed, her laptop lighting up her face in the dim room. Ben wasn't there, and for that he was thankful.

"Why the fuck did you knock?" She said laughing and rolled up so her legs were crossed in front of her. She watched him. He'd started to pace in front of her, shoving his index and middle fingers into his mouth to gnaw at the skin on the edges of his fingernails.

"Bev I gotta tell you something and you can't say anything to anyone, okay?" He ignored her question, not even looking at her, he could only focus on the spots directly in front of his feet. His chest was heaving over all of it, and he couldn't decide exactly where he wanted to start.

She was watching him patiently, following his movement with eyebrows pulled down over her blue eyes. "Rich, you okay?"

He nodded and then paused in front of her, his long fingers pressed together as if in a prayer. He pulled the tops of his fingers to his lips, took a deep breath and pointed them back to her.

"I think I'm falling in love with Eddie." He let the words hang in the air between them like a fog. He took a catcher's stance and covered his mouth with both hands, the fraying cloth bracelet he wore on his wrist brushing up against the semblance of stubble on his chin. He wanted to vomit, not that anything would come up besides bile - he'd been so caught up in thinking about this, how he would tell her this to see if he was insane, that he'd forgotten to eat. It'd been almost a week since Eddie hadn't looked away and the confusion of it had been eating away at him since then, especially awful today. He had just putzed around his room, laying on the bed, sitting uncomfortably in the armchair, folding himself up in the pile of clothes outside his closet, chainsmoking, and then in a panic, all the stress building up until he felt like he was suffocating, he had cleaned his room, throwing all the clothes into the cracked laundry basket he brought from home and taken them down to the basement to wash. He had organized the desk, opened the windows on the hot afternoon to let in fresh air, emptied his ashtray into the trash can, then tossed in all the empty Dorito bags, old Mountain Dew cans, a magazine that he'd spilled a glass of orange juice on and was no longer openable. He had stolen the broom and dustpan from the kitchen closet and swept the whole room, even going so far as to push the broom under the bed to grab anything he'd missed prior. He'd made the bed, folded and hung up the clothes as appropriate, laid on the newly made bed for 45 minutes and then went to her door and now here he was, waiting for her to respond.

She didn't say anything, she was just looking at him. Her face hadn't changed, she was biting the inside of her cheek and staring with soft eyes.

Richie put his hands out to say, "So?"

She exhaled slowly through her nose, closing her laptop.

"Babes," she said quietly. "You've been in love with him for a while."

He stared at her, his mouth having fallen open. "The fuck?"

She got up from the bed, sweatpants and bare feet and went to the window, grabbing up her smokes and offering him one. He took it gratefully. He'd smoked the remainder of his own pack in his room not long before he came over here. They each lit the cigarettes - yellow American Spirits - and exhaled. Bev was looking out the window and Richie had taken up peeling a thin remainder of black fingernail polish from his pinky.

"So," she said after a moment, looking at him now. "Should I clarify for you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that'd be neato."

She chuckled and flicked the filter end with her thumbnail. "You say you're falling in love, but honey, you've been in love with that boy since we were 19."

Richie pinched his face up and took a drag. "What are you talking about?"

Beverly took a deep breath like she was about to scream for a millennium. "Damn Rich, you don't even recognize it do you? Okay, look, so you remember right after Ed's birthday that year we threw that party, right? And Eddie brought this guy he was seeing, what was his fucking name? Something with a T-"

"Trevor."

"Right, Trevor. And they got into this huge fight at the party and Trevor fucking stormed out or whatever and Eddie was crying the whole night because Trevor was his first real boyfriend. Real anything."

"Yeah, what does that have to do with anything though?"

Beverly put her hand on his bouncing knee, immediately stopping its movement. "Rich, I've never seen you act like that with anyone else. You carried him to his room, tucked him into bed, fucking brought him water and shit. Like, we all just sat around too drunk to do much but you sobered up like that." She snapped her fingers.

He sighed. "That doesn't mean I was in love with him, Bev."

She raised a finger. "That's not all of it. You held him, listening to everything he had to say, and this look you had in your eyes." She paused. "Rich it was like he was the moon and you were seeing sky for the first time."

He listened and pondered this for a moment. "Okay?"

"Richie," she chuckled, pressing her back against the windowsill. "When was the last time you were with anyone, romantically or otherwise?"

He thought about it for a moment, taking a few hits off his cigarette. Well, there was Will back in, no they never more than kissed... what about Roxy, no she'd barely held his hand... David had...no... not him. Jesus... when was the last time he got laid?

He sighed and shrugged, to which she nodded. "Exactly. You haven't slept with or dated anyone since that night. And that was nearly five years ago. And you have always been affectionate with him -"

"Oh please, I'm affectionate with you and Stan!"

Beverly gave him a look, pursed lips, cocked head, the works. "I have never seen you kiss Stan on the neck or had you whisper in my ear the way you do with Eddie."

Richie blushed. He fiddled with the paper on the end of the cigarette and sighed. His glasses were fogging up on his nose and his face was heating up. Was he really so blind to it all?

"So," he said.

Beverly placed her hand on his knee, stroking the denim of his jeans with her thumb. "So."

They sat in silence for another moment, listening to the far away sounds of cars on Kansas Street and a lawnmower as someone pushed it across their unbridled yard.

"What do I do, Bev?" Richie said, his voice nearly a whine. "He means the world to me. As a friend and..."

She smashed the lit end of the cigarette with her fingers, rolling it between them. "Do you want something to happen between you two?" She asked.

He sighed hard. "I don't want to ruin anything."

"But you are in love with him, Rich. I can see it. Ben can see it. Stan and me have discussed it -"

"You talked about it with Stan?" He cried, throwing his hands up.

"You guys are supposedly close and you haven't talked to him about it so he asked, yes! But it doesn't matter. Eddie may be the only one of us who hasn't noticed." Bev said.

Rich looked out the window and sighed. "What if he doesn't want me?"

Bev shrugged sadly. "Then I guess nothing happens. Do you want to try to be with him?"

He thought about it. Did he want to be with him? Yes. He wanted to see what it felt like to finally press his mouth down into Eddie's, something he had probably wanted to do since they were teenagers. He wanted to know what it felt like to tangle his hands up in his hair instead of just messing it up. He wanted to know what he tasted like, what it felt like to wake up next to him, his own body curled around Eddie's smaller one. He wanted to hold his hand and take him to dinner and go see Eddie's neurotic mother as his boyfriend, his boyfriend, not just his loudmouth asshole best friend. He wanted all of it.

But he would never forgive himself if something happened. If he didn't actually make him happy. If he took something too far one day and said something and Eddie realized he would never change, he would always be Trashmouth Tozier, the kid with greasy hair and broken glasses and too much to say. He didn't want to break Eddie's heart. He didn't want Eddie to break his heart. And he didn't want to lose their friendship. He loved him, had loved him since they had first become friends nearly 15 years ago, and even if he didn't want to admit it to himself yet he was in love with him as well. Maybe that meant he should stay away.

"I don't...want to ruin anything." Richie repeated.

Beverly sighed and took his hands in hers. She searched his eyes behind glass and chewed her bottom lip. "Then I guess you don't do anything."

With that, Richie felt tears begin to rise behind his eyes. He put a hand over his mouth to try and hush them, but they came anyway. Quiet, fat tears ran down his cheeks, his body shaking with each silenced sob, and Beverly took his head into her chest, holding him as he cried.

Bill burst into the kitchen, phone in hand and panting, a huge smile taking over his whole face. Richie was laying out over two chairs, his feet propped up onto Mike's lap, Stan and Eddie on his other side eating sandwiches. Beverly sat on the counter, one of her bare legs pulled up and the other swinging back and forth into the cabinet, a steady thump-thump-thump. Ben was fiddling with the lock on the backdoor, trying to tighten it in its socket.

They all looked at him when he came in, waiting. He held his phone aloft and exhaled hard, trying to catch his breath. "Audra's coming!" He said.

Beverly lit up. "Right now?"

Bill shook his head and patted his chest. "This weekend. We have the day off at the high school and she's going to skip class and come up for the weekend. So, yeah."

"So we should celebrate!" Mike said, looking over at Stan. He nodded.

"Absolutely!" Stan said, setting down his sandwich and dusting his fingers off over the plate.

Richie perked up a little. He could use some celebrating. It'd been two weeks since the conversation in Beverly's room and he didn't feel different or better. He could feel himself still pining, watching Eddie whenever they were together. His heart would race whenever he saw him around the house, or his name appeared in the group chat, or even when he could hear his voice in a different room. At one point Mike was talking to Ben and just said the word 'ready' and he had stopped on a dime and nearly tripped over his own feet to hear what they were talking about.

He was falling head over heels for Eddie and there was nothing he could do to stop it it seemed. And it was making things harder in general. He and Eddie and Ben and Stan were watching a movie last Tuesday and Eddie had his phone out the entire time, the small screen lighting up his face. Richie watched with a growing anger filling the pit of his stomach, wondering who he could possibly be texting. He tried to justify it to himself even, thinking no, it has nothing to do with how I feel about him, I'm just trying to enjoy the movie and he's got to be that guy who has his phone out through the entirety of the film. But so did Stan and Richie didn't even give him a passing glance. It was Eddie. And the fact that he could have been texting someone else.

Richie had never considered himself a jealous person, he was usually the type who would let you leave if you wanted - if you didn't want him so be it. And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why Eddie was having this effect on him. They'd known each other forever, and yeah, sure, Richie probably liked him more than any other person he'd ever liked. Er, well loved. That word frightened him.

Love? How could he love Eddie? He'd never loved anyone before so how could he know if that was what he was feeling. But these were all excuses. Richie was in love with him, and it was only getting worse.

He sat up in his seat and tried not to look directly at him, but he was there in the corner of his eye anyway, eating the meat that had fallen out of his sandwich with his fingers. He pressed one of them into his mouth and let it linger there and Richie felt a dull ache in his pants. God he had it bad.

"What should we go do?" Mike asked, pressing the tops of Richie's shoes absently.

"She'll be here Thursday around 8. Her last class gets done at like 2." Bill said.

Beverly held up a finger and slapped her hand on her leg. "It's fucking karaoke Thursday! We should go to karaoke!" She looked at Stan and Mike, who were agreeing enthusiastically.

"Yes karaoke, oh my god, it's been a minute!" Stan said.

Richie looked from Bev to Stan to Eddie, trying to play off the fact that he only wanted to look at Eddie. "Who all's going?" He asked.

Stan, Beverly, Ben, Bill, and Mike raised their hands, but Eddie hesitated for a moment and Richie felt his heart sink underneath his ribs.

"I'm down," he finally said and Richie tried to hide a smile. He caught Beverly's eye.

She was frowning slightly at him, but it wasn't a look of disappointment, just...sadness. Worry.

The others were talking but he couldn't break his gaze with her. And every second that passed, he was starting to get more nervous. It was like she was saying a hundred things by just staring at him. Don't get too excited. Don't get your hopes up. Don't do anything rash. Unless you want to. If you do then go for it. But be careful. I love you. I want you to be happy. Be careful be careful be careful.

It took a moment for Richie to pull his eyes away from her's and by then Eddie, Ben, and Bill had left the room, discussing loudly the semantics of Thursday evening. Mike and Stan were whispering amongst each other and Beverly nodded towards the door. Richie pulled his legs carefully from Mike's lap, who looked at him briefly, and they went outside.

As soon as Beverly put the cigarette in between his fingers, he started pacing, the sun starting to fall behind the house. He stuck it in his teeth but didn't light it, Beverly setting the end of her own on fire. She let him pace for a moment, his feet running a track in the grass just off the patio square and she rolled the filter slowly between her fingers.

He was trying to find the words, a distant echoing of all the things they had said to one another in the bedroom ricocheting around his brain. She had seen the remnants of excitement on his face, she knew what he was thinking. But she wanted to hear it. It was that Eddie would be there. Eddie. Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie. Jesus Christ what was wrong with him it's only Eddie!

"What are you thinking, Rich?" Beverly's voice cut through his stream of consciousness, and he looked at her. She was squinting at him, waiting. Her cigarette burned dully in her hand.

He shook his head; he didn't know for sure yet.

"Richie," she drew his name out on her tongue.

He didn't stop pacing, but all of the words came at once. "Ya know, I thought I could do it. Be okay. Pretend I didn't want him. Leave him be. Just like... I dunno, fuck around elsewhere, maybe try and play it cool and just like keep doing me or whatever but I can't even think straight? Like, I can't even make my stupid fucking jokes anymore or flirt no holds bar anymore? But every time I see him I feel sick? Like my stomach hurts? And-and-and I want to kiss him? All the time! All the time, Bev, it's fucking gross! And sometimes I wonder what he's doing when we're not around each other? And like, I dream about him? And I want him to go to karaoke and I thought if he didn't go I honestly wouldn't go, Bev I legitimately thought about skipping the bar because Eds might not go! And it's ridiculous because why now? Like, straight the fuck up why now? Why couldn't all this shit happen in high school? So I could make the mistake and move on? Why does it have to be now? And-and-and like, why the fuck am I so jealous, all of a sudden? Seriously, Bev, it's ridiculous like he was on the phone with his mom, his goddamn mother the other day and I nearly lost my shit it's gross. I don't want to be that guy who gets caught up and like fucking locks him away because that's fucking gross and I want him to have the world. Like give that boy the goddamn world because he deserves it, ya know? And I can't fucking give that to him, Bev, I can't give it to him and it kills me, it fucking kills me and I need you to tell me what to do." He finally stopped, panting, his cigarette still unlit.

She laughed. "Butterflies."

He coughed. "What?"

"That sick feeling," she pointed at him with the smoke. "It's butterflies."

He screwed his face up. "Well butterflies are fucking gross and I don't want 'em."

She chuckled. "You're pretty fucking gross sometimes, Trashmouth."

"Well, regardless, I don't need them. I can't eat anything because of it and I'm fucking hungry as shit." He ran a hand through his hair and extended the other one shaking. She pressed the lighter into it. He used it and inhaled deeply, the smoke hitting his lungs like cool water.

"I can't tell you what to do Rich. Just like you couldn't tell me what to do with Ben." She said.

"Bev, what if I do something stupid?" He asked, his voice wavering.

She shrugged and sighed. "Like specifically or generally?"

He waved his hands around, cigarette dangling from his lips. "I suppose in general."

"Are you drinking Thursday?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely. Especially since he'll be there."

Beverly pursed her lips. "How bout this?" She sat down on the edge of the planter at the corner of the patio and tucked one of her legs over the other, bare feet pale like milk under the lavender and rouge of the sky. "If ever - ever - you feel like you're going to do something stupid, say something you shouldn't or you feel scared, just say you want to go like... I dunno, powder your nose or some shit."

Richie started pacing again. "What, like cocaine?"

Beverly rolled her eyes. "No, idiot, it's what girls sometimes say when they want to talk shit in the bathroom."

"I have never in my life heard you or any other woman say that." Richie said, taking another deep hit from the cigarette. It tasted strange to him and he wondered if maybe it was a Pall Mall.

"Regardless, Richard, say something like that and we will go take a smoke break. Give you time away to not do something you don't want." She pulled her nearly-gone cigarette to her mouth and smiled mischievously. "Plus it sounds like a code."

Richie finally stopped, facing east. "Why wouldn't I just say I'm taking a smoke break?"

Bev waved her hands. "It doesn't matter what you say, it's just to get you out of the situation. The code be damned!" She sounded frustrated, but she was laughing.

Richie sighed and turned to face her. "You promise you won't let me do anything stupid?"

She crushed the filter in the flowerpot, brushing the dirt from her hands and exhaling a line of grey smoke over her head. She held out a crooked pinky, the black fingernail polish on it chipping away at the edges. He linked it with his own, his throat tingling a little. He swallowed hard and held her gaze.

"I promise. No matter what you choose, I promise I won't let you do anything too stupid."

He rolled his eyes, and pulled his hand away. "Clarification of 'too stupid'; appreciate it."

Beverly shrugged and rubbed his shoulder. "I can only do so much."

He sighed and looked up at the house. He knew somewhere inside, Eddie was milling about, perhaps smiling loudly and making plans, no idea that his best friend was just outside, wishing he could tell him how in love with him he was.

When Audra arrived, the seven of them were all stood in the living room. Bill was panicking, Beverly and Stan fixing his hair and straightening his clothes and telling him over and over again, "You look great. You're great, Bill. Jesus she already wants to make out with you, relax."

Richie was curled up on the window seat, glasses sliding down his face, a bottle of Pabst in his hands. He was bringing it to his lips every few seconds and this was already his third one. He started feeling nervous about noon when Eddie came to his door to ask if he was drinking tonight.

He had practically jumped out of his skin when Eds rapped on the open door and tried to brush it off by leaning casually against the wall.

Eddie grimaced at him. "Uh, you cool?"

He tried to swallow but found it difficult. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Just fine, I'm great, great yeah - how are you? What's up?" God he felt like a fucking idiot.

Eddie came in the door fully and crossed his arms over his chest. "You drinking tonight? I'm just trying to see who can drive."

Richie made a raspberry with his lips. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at Eddie; he was afraid he'd notice he was blushing.

"Yeah, I mean, yeah, I'm gonna drink. Unless I shouldn't - why, are you drinking? Are you not drinking?" He glanced out the corner of his eye. Eddie was smirking at him. The blush grew deeper on his cheeks and he smiled at the floor.

"I planned on drinking, yeah. Bev said she could maybe drink one and then drive us. Stan might not drink either. You're welcome to drink, Richie. But only if you make me a promise."

Richie looked up, his eyes swimming with hopefulness. "Oh yeah?" He stood up straight. "What's that?"

Eddie leaned against the door jamb. "Promise you'll buy me a drink."

He practically melted, like ice cream all over the hand of a five-year-old kid on a midsummer day. It took him a moment to choke out his answer. "Y-yeah. Absolutely. A gin and tonic, I assume?"

Eddie scoffed, and he was already turning to leave the room. "You know me pretty well there, Rich."

And now he was two and half almost three beers in, freaking out. He had originally thought, if he could get the perfect amount of tipsy - not too sober, not too drunk - he might be brave enough to tell Eddie. Maybe pull him aside at the bar and tell him how he felt. Maybe finally press their faces together until their teeth crashed and pick him up and put him against a wall. Something slutty - but only if Eddie wanted it. All of that initial courage was out the window, dying on the grass outside the house. He was afraid. What if Eddie already had a boyfriend? Shit what if he didn't like Richie like that at all? There were times where Eddie flirted back, but that was when they were teenagers. It was always a joke, never serious. He couldn't get a read on him.

Eddie was sitting on the couch next to Mike and they were watching as Bill was primped and preened in the center of the living room. Richie couldn't take his eyes off of him. He looked so handsome - a word he never used - tonight. A plain white t-shirt and jeans, his hair was messy today, the curls falling haphazardly in his face. And his face, tan and freckled, was bright with laughter and he leaned into Mike a little. Richie felt that now all-too familiar pang of jealousy and he took another swig of beer. He was starting to feel it all, the drunkenness burning slowly along the skin of his arms and in his chest. He shouldn't be jealous of Mike; he was his best friend. They all were.

When Audra's rental car finally pulled up in front of the house, its lights hitting the window in a blinding beam that caught the lenses of Richie's glasses, it was half past nine. Bill practically froze in place, his chest heaving.

"She's here," Stan said and pushed Bill towards the door. It took a second but then his feet started moving, the others going to the door with him. Richie stayed put on the window seat, watching as they all got up from their places and followed Bill like a cloud. His eyes caught Eddie, behind Ben who had his hands on Beverly's waist. The way Eddie's hips moved as he walked made him want to jump up and put his hands there too, like Ben with Beverly, and press his lips to his neck.

But he didn't. He stayed glued to his seat, watching everything unfold from inside. Bill running outside and catching Audra up in his arms and planting a thousand thousand kisses on her. Beverly, Ben, and Mike next giving her hugs as she came up the sidewalk, Bill behind her with her small red suitcase, Eddie and Stan giving her a hug at the same time. It was as she came in the door, wearing black leggings and a thin grey croptop with her hair half in a bun on top of her head and half down, that Richie got up, setting down his beer and hiding behind the short wall that cut the living room from the foyer. When she pulled out into the doorway, saying, "Well where is he?", he popped out from behind the corner, growling.

"I gotcha!" He said and she turned in his arms, smiling up at him.

"Hey Richie," she said into his chest.

It was madness to him that they'd all become so close with Audra in the few short months they'd known her. She wasn't a Loser by any means - they'd made their group long before she came along - but that didn't make her any less family.

"What took you so long? You were supposed to be here at eight I thought." He said as the others crowded in around him. Bill came up and placed his hand on the small of her back, beaming at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Traffic out of Bangor was insane. I'm surprised I made it this quickly." She said.

"I'm just glad you made it safe." Bill said. She pressed into him and he kissed the top of her head.

"So we ready to go?" Mike asked. He was brushing against Stan's arm with his fingers. Richie looked away rather quickly as if he were catching a glimpse of something strange and foreign, something he wasn't supposed to see. He focused back on Bill and Audra, who were still lost in each other's eyes.

"Takes about thirty minutes to get there with late night traffic, so by the time we get there things'll start getting busy, probably." Beverly followed up. Bill turned away and breathed in like he was gasping for air.

"Yes, absolutely, let's do it. I'll drive and you?" He said pointing between Bev and Stan. They both nodded.

"Bev can drive there and I'll drive back if she drinks too much." Stan said.

"Perfect!" Audra said, clapping her hands together. "Let me just run and clean myself up real quick and we'll go."

"Gotta powder your nose?" Richie asked, tossing Beverly a smartass smile.

"What?" Audra asked, her tiny nose pinching up.

Richie waved a hand at her. "Ignore me, everyone else does."

She shook her head and Bill led her to the bathroom behind the kitchen.

They left about ten minutes later, piling into Audra's rental and Bev's jeep. Bill jumped shotgun in the rental, Stan and Mike pressed in behind them. Ben, Richie, and Eddie got into the jeep, Richie letting the middle seat go untaken. Eddie looked at him as he clicked his seatbelt into place, eyebrow raised.

But he didn't want to sit too close. Suddenly it felt too suspicious, even though he had done it a hundred times. He kept drumming his fingers against his bouncing legs.

When they arrived there was a bit of a line but Beverly wasn't worried. "They won't make us pay the cover." She said matter-of-factly.

And indeed it was so. Beverly came up first, Ben immediately behind her. She pointed at the others, counting out the eight of them to the bouncer, a burly white man with a ginger beard and a septum ring matching her's, and everything they said to one another was drowned out by the music blaring out the open door. The bouncer said something to Bev close to her ear and she laughed and stuck her tongue out. The bearded man waved them past, shaking Ben's hand as he did so, and the eight of them streamed past the line of disgruntled guests waiting to get in.

The bar was crowded, its concrete floors filled with college types and sticky with spilled beer. Richie saw the bartop in the far right corner, past the stage where a man dressed in flannel and cowboy boots was singing a tone deaf rendition of Friends in Low Places and he pushed past the others towards it. Eddie had been watching him the entire car ride and he needed something to calm his nerves.

He came up to an empty space between a blonde sorority girl and a frat boy talking to one of his brothers. The bartenders were running back and forth getting beers and pouring liquor into clear plastic cups. He felt a hand on his back and he turned, flinching a little. It was Eddie, but the others were behind him.

"Are you okay, Richie? You've been real jumpy lately." His eyes were concerned and looking down into them made Richie's heart leap.

"Of course I'm okay, Eds. I just haven't been getting much sleep lately from all the late night sex calls with your mom." He smiled wryly.

"Beep beep, Rich." Eddie replied, shoving him playfully on the arm. The touch made his stomach flip.

"Hey!" Beverly said. Richie hesitantly looked away from Eddie and caught her eye. "Mike had a great idea! We're all going to choose each other's song tonight."

Richie glared at Mike who was laughing and rubbing his hands together like a maniacal super villain. "Who's picking whose?" He asked.

Mike pointed at each of them as he talked, his voice raised above the bass and voices of the other bar goers. "You'll pick Eddie's, Eddie will pick Bill's, Bill will pick Ben's, Ben will pick Audra's, Audra will pick Stan's, Stan's got mine, I got Bev's and she'll get yours. Sound easy enough?"

Richie pretended to count something out on his fingers. Eddie hit him in the chest gently with the back of his hand and he laughed. "Yeah, got it. Just remember who you're picking and it's easy-peasy."

Eddie jabbed a finger into his black shirt. "Don't pick anything stupid, Trashmouth. I don't want to be singing anything filthy."

A wicked grin took over Richie's face. "Eddie I promise I will pick something fantastically naughty, the perfect song you can write home to mom about."

Ben laughed over Bev's shoulder. "Something slutty?"

Richie pointed a finger gun at him. "Boy-o, Haystack, you got it on point."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.

Rich ordered the first round of drinks for everyone except Stan, who ordered a Coke, and they all rushed up to the booth to pick out their songs. The karaoke selection book was filled with songs ranging from the classics to newer stuff, the pages warped and bent from years of being turned and spilled on, but they all found what they were looking for. Stan was cackling and pointing to a Backstreet Boys song - "We have to sing that as a group please!" - and Beverly saw what she wanted and scribbled it down on her slip, her right hand hiding it away from Richie's prying eyes. He already knew what he wanted Eddie to sing and he used the shorter boy's back to write it down in his spiraling hand as soon as he grabbed up a slip and pen.

"It better not be something stupid, Rich, I swear to god."

"No promises, Spaghetti."

Mike and Stan were whispering and pointing over Bill and Audra's shoulders at the book, discussing the song choices. Once they all got their slips handed in, Richie had already finished his first beer. Stan followed him to the bar to top off his own drink. When the bartender nodded at Richie, he held up two fingers and the girl nodded, reaching below to grab two more beers, popping the caps off of both of them. He handed her a crumpled twenty dollar bill and waved her hand to signify to keep the change. He took them both up in his hands and started with the first, downing half of it in one fell swoop. Stan watched him and fiddled with the straw in his own drink.

"You okay, Richie?" He asked, his voice cutting through the sound. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a little beer dribbling out the corner of his mouth. He used the back of his hand to wipe it away.

"Yeah, why?" He was starting to feel more drunk, nearly five in, his inhibitions significantly lower than they were earlier today.

Stan shrugged. "I dunno man, you just seem far away tonight."

Richie was watching Eddie talk to Ben, only half paying attention. "I'm no farther away than normal."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Stan's voice was gentle.

Richie turned on him, beer sloshing around in his stomach. "You know you can talk to me right, Stan?"

Stan fell back a bit, his eyes going quickly to Mike, who was talking to Audra. He blushed deeply and looked at his drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What is that they say in Stranger Things? 'Friends don't lie.'" Richie wasn't angry, but his voice had a bite to it.

"I have nothing to lie about." Stan said.

Richie smirked at him, but it wasn't a real smile. He watched Mike for a second and then turned his eyes to Eddie. "I'll start talking to you when you start talking to me." With that he walked away to join the rest of the group, leaving Stan at the bar open mouthed.

If something was going on with Stan and Mike, why wouldn't he tell him, Richie wondered. Didn't they tell each other everything? But as he came up next to Eddie, whose name was being called by the sound booth guy, he knew that wasn't true. And that made him sad.

Eddie took the stage, pulling the mic stand down to his level and watching the screen above his head to see what he was singing. He waved to the others, who had all pulled up directly in front of the stage and they whooped and hollered.

Richie was staring hard at him, waiting. When the name presumably came up on the television, Eddie glared down at him, the microphone wire wrapped around his hand. He pulled it to his mouth and said, "Fuck you, Tozier." But he was smiling huge.

The others were laughing and raising their drinks up as Eddie started The Bad Touch by Bloodhound Gang. He did pretty damn well and Richie finished one of his drinks while watching, smiling and singing along slightly. When he was finished they all cheered, some others in the bar doing so as well. Eddie came off the stage and took his gin and tonic from Bill, who clapped him on the back.

Next went Stan, Audra had picked out a Twenty One Pilots number for him perfectly enough. Then Bill went, singing a lovely - Audra's words - rendition of Don't You Want Me by The Human League. He was blushing like crazy the whole time, pointing at Audra while he sang, who covered her face embarrassed. When he came down offstage, someone new was called up and the group took it as the perfect opportunity to to refill their drinks and for Beverly and Richie to grab a cigarette. By now, Richie had finished his seventh or eighth, he couldn't be quite sure, beer and was working on the next, his feet working on autopilot. Beverly grabbed his arm as he tripped slightly over the rise separating the inside from the smoke porch.

"Jesus, babes, you good?" She said, her drink spilling a little as she caught him. He brushed her off and took a sip of his own. He wasn't okay but he was going to keep pretending he was. Eddie just looked so fucking good. He had passed the not too drunk not too sober section of the evening he had been hoping to utilize and had headed straight on to bordering on sloppy. He had lost his chance. Might as well enjoy himself.

"Yeah I'm great! Stan's probably mad at me, Eddie looks hot as shit, and I'm having a good time regardless. Not sure what's going on with me." He lit his cigarette shakily and let the smoke hit his head, cooling the thin sheen of sweat that had beaded up there.

She rubbed his arm. "I doubt Stan is mad at you. But maybe you should slow down on the drinks. I think you're coming up next."

He nodded and pulled out his phone to look at the time. Somehow two hours had passed and it was coming up on 12:45.

He exhaled and flipped his hair away from his glasses. "What song did you pick?"

She smiled and shook her head. "That's for me to know and you to find out, Richard my boy."

They finished their cigarettes and went back inside. Eddie came up to him and took him carefully by the arm. "Ready to buy me that drink?" Richie felt the burning in his cheeks and all he could do was nod. Eddie took his hand - fire on fire on fire - and pulled him to the bar. The bartender recognized Richie at this point and pulled out his beer before he could even say what he wanted. Eddie raised his eyebrow at him and told the girl, "Gin and tonic, please," leaning over the bar a little. Richie watched the curve of his back and for a split second he wondered what it looked like naked. He shook the thought out of his mind and gave the bartender another twenty. He hadn't remembered bringing so much cash but here he was with plenty of money.

"Thank you," Eddie said. "But I'm still mad at you for that song."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Please, you fucking killed it and you know you got all the fellas hot and bothered."

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. "I doubt I impressed anyone in particular."

Richie let his hand brush up against his arm. "You impressed me." His voice was quiet and he was surprised that he actually heard him. He looked up at him under heavy eyelashes.

"Up next is Richie Tozier, singing a "secret" song chosen by his BFF, Beaver-ly." The DJ said over the loud speakers. Richie looked up at the stage where the others were standing, waving him over. He was panting a little and looked back at Eddie. Maybe he could do it after all.

"Stay here, I'll come back right after I'm done."

"Okay." Eddie was smiling, such a huge bright smile. Goddamn.

Richie rushed up to the stage, his heart pounding. He pushed through them all, Beverly and Ben at the front, flanked by Mike and Stan and then Audra with Bill's arm wrapped around her waist. Richie set his beer down on the stool they provided and pushed his glasses up on his nose. He was nervous - which was weird to him because he'd sang on stage a million times. But he knew what it was, deep down. It was because Eddie was watching.

The screen blared blue with a pixelated logo of a bird above him and then the title appeared and music started pumping out the speakers. Ballroom Blitz by Sweet. He laughed and cocked his head at Beverly. "You beautiful bitch!" He said to her and she shrugged, already beginning to tap her feet to the beat.

He wrapped the cord around his hand and nodded to the beat.

He pointed at them each as he called them. "Are you ready, Stan?" Stan nodded. "Eddie?" He winked at him and Eddie waved. "Mike?" Mike mouthed the response, "Okay!"

"Alright fellas, let's go!" He was already in his element, Brian Connolly incarnate onstage.

The others were screaming, clapping and cheering for him just below the stage.

He flipped his hair out of his eyes again and brought the mic to his mouth, his lips pressing too closely to the rough head.

"Oh it's been getting so hard," he grabbed his crotch. "Living with the things you do to me." He threw his head back and laughed.

"My dreams are getting so strange, I'd like to tell you everything I see."

He pointed to Eddie sitting on the barstool, nodding along with his singing. "Oh, I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact and his eyes are as red as a sun," he pointed next at Audra, who pulled her hand to her chest and laughed. "And a girl in the corner, let no one ignore her 'cause she thinks she's the passionate one! Oh, yeah!"

He was sweating, his hair starting to stick to his forehead and he was filling with excitement.

"It was like lightening, everybody was frightening, and the music was soothing, and they all started grooving! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" He threw his head back, leaning backwards as he pulled the mic above him, his voice hitting an almost ridiculous high pitch. He turned back down to face his friends, who were singing along.

"And the man in the back said 'Everyone attack!' And it turned into a ballroom blitz! And the girl in the corner said, 'Boy I wanna warn ya, it'll turn into a ballroom blitz!' Ballroom blitz! Ballroom blitz!"

He looked up and searched the bar for Eddie again, having suddenly lost him. But when he found him, his chest seized up. Someone was talking to him, a guy. A tall blond guy who was leaning on the bar and Eddie was smiling up at him, his drink sitting coldly in his hand. A low growl filled Richie's chest, a hollow sinking feeling much like embarrassment and anger had smashed together. The raging green monster.

"Ballroom blitz..." but he couldn't sing the next line. The backup singers on the tape did it for him - "...ballroom blitz..." - and Beverly followed his line of sight to the bar, worry taking over her face.

As the chorus ended, Richie took a hard drink of his beer, spilling some of it on his shirt and he unwrapped the microphone from his hand and set it in the stand, not taking his eyes from Eddie. It was a dead end stare, and for a moment the rest of the bar faded away, and all he could see was this fucking guy - this fucking asshole - talking to Eddie, leaning in closer and closer.

"Oh, reaching out for something, touching nothing's all I ever do," maybe if he closed his eyes he wouldn't see it, wouldn't think about it, "Oh, I softly call you over, when you appear there's nothing left of you. Uh-huh," but there they were, still talking, still so fucking close, he looked at Beverly, his arms outstretched, "Now the man in the back is ready to crack as he raises his hands to the sky, and the girl in the corner is everyone's mourner she could kill you with a wink of her eye," he winked at her and she tried to smile but she knew, oh she knew.

"Oh, yeah, it was electric," The guy had his mouth pressed right up against Eddie's ear, "So frantically hectic," Eddie was smiling and giggling, "And the band started leaving," the guy - this fucking guy - put his hand on Eddie's leg, "'Cause they all stopped breathing! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" He felt like he was going to vomit right there on stage, the overhead lights and flashing strobes suddenly too much but this guy, goddammit this fucking guy. Just push it down, Richie, just leave it alone.

"And the man in the back said, 'Everyone attack!' And it turned into a ballroom blitz! And the girl in the corner said, 'Boy I wanna warn ya it'll turn into a ballroom blitz!' Ballroom blitz!"

He opened his eyes and looked and that was it. This guy's hand was sliding up Eddie's thigh now, and Richie felt his feet hit the concrete floor. He was walking towards them.

"Richie where are you going?" He heard Beverly cry.

"I'm taking a powder!" He replied, suddenly the code going right out the window. He couldn't stop watching them, but Bev was right behind him, trying to grab his arm.

"You're in the middle of a song -"

"Finish it for me!" He pushed past some jock types who were chattering on loudly but in a language he didn't seem to recognize. The music was still playing overhead - the DJ hadn't noticed he'd left the stage.

As he came up on them Eddie's face fell a little - disappointment.

"Hey!" Richie said, not to him but the guy, who pulled his hand back, a Bud Light bottle in his right hand.

"Richie, hey -" Eddie's voice was quiet but Richie wasn't listening. He could feel the steam curling out of his ears.

"You're talking to my fucking boyfriend." Richie said, his nose reaching the guy's forehead and he didn't know why he'd said that, boyfriend. He wasn't speaking for himself anymore it seemed.

"Boyfriend?" Eddie said.

"Your fucking boyfriend, eh?" The guy's voice was so fucking grating it made Richie's teeth grind together.

"Yeah, so I'd appreciate it if you keep your fucking hands off of him." He tried to press himself defensively into Eddie's legs, but he lost his balance a little.

The guy laughed and wrapped his arm around Eddie - who looked suddenly lost in confusion. "Well me and your boyfriend were just talking about him coming over to my place. So later on tonight, when he's sucking my cock, I hope you're thinking real hard about who your fucking boyfriend is." His face was so smug, Richie could feel his hand curl into a fist. Eddie was saying something like, "Hey," or "What the fuck," but it was all white noise.

He laughed himself. "You better watch your fucking mouth or I'm gonna put you in the hospital." He could hear, dimly, the swell of the next chorus coming. He felt someone come up beside him, Mike or Ben maybe.

The guy stood stock still. "You ain't gonna do fucking shit." He raised his eyebrows. An invitation.

Richie laughed and wiped the corners of his mouth. And then it happened. It was like slow motion for a second.

He pulled his fist back, and socked the guy right in the nose. It was a crooked punch but it connected well enough, blood pouring from his nostrils. He heard his name called, "Richie!" Beverly's voice.

The guy stumbled back, dropping his beer and it shattered on the floor. He was laughing a little and looking at the black-red blood on his hand. Music still boomed overhead. Richie was shaking. Suddenly there were six other guys behind him, all varying sizes and shapes, patting their friend on the back, faces angry and concerned. And then the guy came back, giving Richie a quick right fist to the jaw.

Then all hell broke loose. One of the friends grabbed Ben, who had appeared at Richie's side, Mike was pushing a guy twice his size - somehow - and ripping another off of Eddie, who had started throwing punches at the guy on top of Richie. Bill had pushed Audra back, and he and Stan were in the thick of it, hitting and swinging at one of the guy's friends. Beverly was in there too, hitting some dude who had taken the time to kick Richie while he was down, each blow knocking every ounce of air from his lungs. He could feel broken glass and foamy beer soaking his shirt, cutting up his skin. The guy was on top of him, leaning all of his weight on his chest, swinging and connecting every fucking time, but Rich was getting some good licks in too. He was fairly certain he had knocked one of the guy's teeth out because now his mouth was coursing blood, as was Richie's. He had bit his tongue pretty hard. Suddenly, someone was lifting the blond off of him, and he got in once last kick to the groin and he was too peeled off the floor. Stan.

"Let's go! Richie let's go they're gonna call the cops!" Stan was right in his face and he kept lunging to get past him, to get in one last hit before he'd call it quits. Eddie grabbed his arm and started pulling him, out past the bar to the back door, and the eight of them spilled into the alley.

Audra was curled up against Bill, trembling. Ben was checking over Beverly, a small cut on her left cheek, and she brushed him off, pulling a cigarette from her pocket with shaking hands and pushing it to her mouth. Mike and Stan were pressing their hands into each other's arms, assessing any damage. Richie was bent over, clutching his ribs where the guy had kicked him repeatedly. It would definitely bruise.

"What the fuck was that, Richie?" Eddie screamed, pushing against his chest with such a force that it caught him off guard and he nearly stumbled to the ground. He spit a mouthful of blood on the asphalt and pulled his glasses off, well, one half of his glasses off, they had snapped in two and the left side was missing.

"What are you talking about?" He replied, running his split tongue over his teeth, counting them. All accounted for, thank god. He was mentally checking Eddie over for any cuts or bruises. His hair was more messed than normal, and aside from a small cut on his lip, he looked fine, though there was a splattering of blood across the chest of his white shirt. Richie had a feeling it was his.

"I'm talking about that! What the fuck did you do that for?" His voice was raised over the din of the city streets and the pulsating music from inside. They had continued like nothing happened.

Richie shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of blood. He could feel it oozing out the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away. He was trying to think of a way - any way - to put it. His mind was swimming and warping.

"Nothing, I just didn't like the way that guy was touching you." He was starting to come down, the adrenaline dissipating.

Eddie scoffed. "I can handle myself, thank you very much. And what does it matter if he was touching me?"

"Did you hear the shit he was saying about you?" Richie said, his voice going up a little. He didn't want to yell at him. He didn't want to yell at him he didn't want to.

"Richie you say stuff to me like that all the time!" Eddie came back. Mike came up and put a hand on his shoulder and Eddie shoved him off.

Richie was smiling, teeth red, and shaking his head. "Naw, I've never been nasty like that to you. Everything I've said has been a fucking joke."

Eddie sighed and threw his hands in the air, defeated. "Why does it even matter that he was touching me, Richie."

Suddenly the air was heavy and far away there was the ringing of police sirens. Richie opened his mouth to speak, to say a thousand things but he couldn't. Instead he only replied, in a quiet voice. "I just know you don't like strangers touching you."

Eddie took a step toward him. It was cautious and his face was soft and caring again. "Richie," He said, reaching out to touch his arm. "That sort of thing hasn't bothered me for a while."

He pulled away. "I'm sorry, Eddie." The sirens were closer. He looked up to catch reflecting blue and red lights bouncing off the brick building at the end of the alley.

Beverly came up and put a hand on his shoulder tentatively. "Rich, call a cab. Get out of here. We'll handle this."

He turned to her and she smiled sweetly at him. Ben behind her nodded. "Don't worry man, we got you."

Richie nodded too and turned to stalk the opposite direction of the police. Eddie grabbed his arm with gentle fingertips.

"No, Richie, I'll come with you, please." His voice was small and Richie could feel pricks of tears coming up behind his eyes, one of which was starting to swell closed.

"No it's okay. I'm sorry, I just... I'm sorry." He couldn't look at him anymore. He turned to Beverly. "I'll see you at home."

Stan and Mike came up behind him again, slowly. "We'll go with you man." Mike said. Richie nodded and they started out the end of the alley again.

Richie wiped the blood and tears away from his eyes, throwing the remnants of his glasses into a pile of garbage out behind the bar. It was over, it was all over now. Everything he'd wanted was over now. And it was his own fucking fault. He was such a goddamn idiot.

"Richie!" He heard Eddie call, but he didn't turn. He just kept going, Mike and Stan's footsteps echoing behind his and they walked into the road, hailing a bright yellow taxi.