Brave
Chapter 7 – Stanley's Letter

When Richie made his way back out to the waiting area, he found the rest of the Losers huddled over something on the far side of the room. Bev and Ben were sitting in a couple of the chairs next to each other, while Mike and Bill stood, peering down at something that Bev appeared to be holding. They all glanced up at Richie when they heard him enter.

"He's calling Attila the Hun," Richie told them, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. When they stared at him like he was a lunatic (which wasn't that out of the ordinary actually), he clarified, "His wife. Thought I'd give him some privacy while he deals with her wrath."

It warmed Richie's heart to think that he and Eddie were already making new inside jokes between them that the others didn't know about; Myra would forever and always be Attila the Hun to them now.

The Losers, however, were still staring at Richie like they didn't know how to respond. Richie looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious. There was nothing on his sweatshirt. Had Eddie perhaps mussed his hair at one point? Could they tell he had been kissing Eddie somehow? Richie wanted to reach up and pat down his hair and feel his face, but he stood frozen to his spot, not wanting to be too obvious.

Richie swallowed hard. "What?" he asked, even though he was terrified of the answer he might receive. "Why are you looking at me like I'm a fucking space clown?"

Beverly suddenly sniffled, quickly wiping at her eyes with a crumpled up tissue.

"What?" Richie asked again, concern flooding his voice this time. He frowned deeply, that familiar sense of dread consuming his stomach. "Christ, did somebody die?" He had meant it as a joke, but one which quickly fell flat. Richie knew it was way too soon after…everything. After losing Stan and almost losing Eddie as well.

But everyone that Richie loved most in the world was in this hospital and they were all fine (or on their way to being okay at the very least), so he couldn't imagine what could be wrong. Unless something had happened to one of their families – Bill's wife perhaps?

Beverly handed Mike the piece of paper she had been holding – what the rest of the Losers had been huddled around when Richie had first entered the room. That was when Richie first took notice of the paper and realized that it looked like a letter.

Mike cleared his throat then crossed the room to Richie, holding the letter out for him. "This arrived from Stan this morning. I think Patty sent a copy to each of us, but this is the one I got."

"Stan?" Richie asked, taking the letter from Mike. Richie stared down at it, his eyes unfocused, an uncomfortable feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. He now knew why Bev had been crying, and truth be told, Richie didn't really need to read the letter to know what he was holding in his hands. "He wrote us suicide notes?" Richie asked, looking up at the others.

"No," Bill said firmly, "he says that's n-not what it is."

Richie looked back down at the letter, his eyes going to Stanley's signature at the end. Richie rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pen lines there, frowning deeply. Wishing there was a fucking way to go back to that point in time – to when Stan wrote these words – and tell him he didn't have to do this. To tell him that they were all scared, but that they would get through it together, just as they had before.

Swallowing at the lump that had formed in his throat, Richie slowly made his way over to one of the chairs, sinking down into it. His back was facing away from the others, and that was the way he wanted it for now. He wanted to sit in relative privacy while he read Stan's last words to them. Richie returned his glance to the beginning of the letter and began to read, but he only made it about halfway through before he was completely caught off guard by Stanley's words. Richie had never read a suicide note before in his life, but this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting to read. He supposed that that was why Stan said it wasn't a suicide note.

Be who you want to be. Be proud. And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go.

Richie stared at these words for what felt like an inordinately long period of time. The rest of the Losers must have assumed that he finished the letter and was simply rereading it or just letting Stanley's words sink in. The fact of the matter was that Richie still hadn't even gotten to the end of the letter yet.

This was Mike's letter and Stan had apparently sent one to all of them. However, Mike seemed to assume (and Richie agreed) that the same letter had been given to each of them; there was nothing to suggest that this letter was directed at Mike in particular, and it was addressed to the Losers as a whole.

Why then did it feel like those lines were specifically directed at Richie? He thought he had always done a pretty good job of hiding his sexuality, of hiding his crush on Eddie, and he never had any reason to believe that Losers ever suspected that he was different. But Jesus Christ, this felt like Stanley was blatantly telling Richie that he should be proud of who he was.

Richie supposed those words could be interpreted in a number of different ways and applied to all sorts of situations, but it didn't feel that way. Stanley was calling him out, and it was his use of the word 'proud' in particular that made Richie think that. A word that was used so much in terms of sexuality, it was a little bit difficult to separate the two.

Then Richie read the next part again, about never letting go of someone worth holding onto. Goddamn it if Stanley wasn't talking to Richie and Eddie specifically here. Richie knew that he always could have been speaking to Ben and Beverly, but it still didn't quite feel that way. Especially not when it was preceded by the fucking word 'proud'.

What had Eddie said not so very long ago? That he was willing to bet that at least one or two of the Losers had already picked up on the attraction between Richie and Eddie despite their very best efforts to keep it hidden and buried. Was this what Stanley was telling them? That he knew Richie and Eddie had been desperately in love with each other since forever and should just go for it already?

"Are you okay?" Beverly asked from behind him. At some point, she must have gotten up from her chair and crossed the room to him. A moment later, Richie felt his hand settle onto his shoulder.

Richie finally looked up from the letter, turning around in his seat and staring up at Bev like he had never seen her before. Richie had been so engrossed in Stan's letter, in trying to figure out exactly what Stan had meant by his words, that Richie almost seemed to have forgotten where he was. For a moment, the only things that had seemed to exist were Richie and Stanley's written words on the paper. Richie blinked, trying to force his mind back to reality.

"Yeah," Richie said, although he really wasn't. He had so many fucking questions, and he had no idea where to begin. He only wished that Stan was alive so that he could ask him. Then Richie suddenly felt the urge to show this letter to Eddie, to ask him exactly what he thought Stan's intentions had been.

This thought pushed away the heaviness that had settled into Richie's chest, reminding him that he still had Eddie down the hall. His Eddie was still fucking alive and they would eventually work out all the shit that still stood in their way. Eddie was in love with him and they would figure this all out together just like they always had.

"I just…didn't expect this," Richie said, hunching back over the letter.

"None of us did," she whispered. "But I think we're going to get pizza for dinner. Get the hell out of here for a bit and talk about…this. Want to come along?" she asked Richie.

"No…thanks," Richie said. He swallowed several times, realizing that all the saliva had seemed to evaporate from his mouth. "Um…" Richie mumbled, adjusting his glasses on his nose and running a hand through his hair. "Eddie's on the phone with his wife, don't forget. He'll probably need someone to calm him down after he hangs up with her. I should be here for him."

Even though Eddie was now out of the woods, Richie still refused to leave the hospital. He had some absurd idea that as soon as he set foot outside the building, something might happen to Eddie. His heart might stop or he might go into respiratory distress again. Richie couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Eddie had had his episode of respiratory distress when Richie had left his room. What if Richie left the hospital completely, and something even worse happened? Richie would never be able to forgive himself for that, if he wasn't here for Eddie when he needed him the most. Richie had kept saying all along that he would leave the hospital once they knew that Eddie would be okay, but he wanted to amend that now; Richie didn't think he would be quite prepared to leave until he knew that Eddie was coming with him.

It was ridiculous and Richie knew it. It would most likely be weeks before Eddie would be able to leave, but Richie had already been living at the hospital for the past eight days. A few more weeks weren't going to kill him, and hell, Richie had already more or less become a fixture around here; all the doctors and nurses knew his name, and none of them batted an eye when he took showers in Eddie's bathroom.

"Can I keep this to show to Eddie?" Richie asked Mike, giving the paper in his hands a small shake.

"Yeah, man," Mike said. "Keep it for as long as you need."

As the rest of the Losers were gathering up their things to leave, Richie turned back to the letter in his hands. He kept reading those same lines over and over, trying to figure exactly what Stan had meant by them. If he was speaking directly to Richie with those words or not. Oh god, what Richie wouldn't give if he could ask Stan directly if he knew things which Richie had tried to hide even from himself.

"You guys go ahead," Ben said from behind Richie. "I'll catch up with you guys at the pizza place."

Richie heard Mike, Bev, and Bill exiting the room to leave him alone with Ben. Richie still didn't turn around, didn't give Ben the least bit of attention, but kept his eyes glued to Stanley's letter.

"Rich, listen," Ben said when the others were gone, "you remember what I told you back in your room at the inn? When I was trying to convince you not to leave?"

Richie looked back over his shoulder at Ben and whispered, "Yeah."

"That still stands, you know."


"Rich?" Ben asked, knocking on Richie's closed door, his voice slightly muffled.

Richie didn't reply, but he kept shoving things into his bag haphazardly. God, Eddie would probably have a fit at the mess Richie was making out of his clothes, at the wrinkles that would be forming in the fabric. Hell, Eddie would probably have coronary if he knew Richie shoved all his toiletries in with his clothes too, because Eddie had his own separate bag for those things.

"Come on, man," came Ben's voice on the other side of his door. "I can hear you in there. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Richie paused, looking around the room to see if he had left anything behind. He huffed in annoyance at Ben, then quickly turned on his heel to open the door. Richie still didn't stop to acknowledge Ben, but went to his dresser, wrenching the drawers open to make sure they were empty.

"What happened?" Ben asked quietly, hovering in the doorway.

"Nothing," Richie muttered, shoving the last drawer of the dresser closed with a snap.

"Richie," Ben said, taking a step into the room. "We're all scared, you know. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Did I say I was scared?" Richie snapped, and it was quite possibly the stupidest question that had ever been asked. Of course he was fucking terrified. They all were and they all knew it. Weren't they way past the point of trying to hide it from each other?

Richie turned around, his back to Ben, glancing about the room for anything else he may have missed. When he didn't see anything to occupy himself with, Richie placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the floor.

He would never know what in god's name had possessed him to say what he said next, but the words were out of Richie's mouth before he could really even process them.

"But that's not what I'm ashamed of."

A thick silence fell into the room, one that felt like it was pressing in on Richie from all sides. He could feel Ben's eyes on his back, questioning, judging.

"You know you don't have to be ashamed," Ben said after nearly a minute. "Not with us. We didn't judge each other then and we don't now. That's why we fucking became friends in the first place."

Richie finally turned around to face Ben. He stared into Ben's kind hazel eyes, and it was truly the first time in Richie's life he thought he felt safe enough to tell the truth. He could almost feel those words somewhere in his throat, bubbling to the surface, almost on his tongue – 'I'm gay.' Just as quickly though, Richie pushed them away.

"I know," Richie said instead, diverting his gaze to the carpet again. He thought he could feel his cheeks growing warm, but he hoped that Ben wouldn't notice.

"I want to run too," Ben told him, his voice almost straining under his effort to be sympathetic, understanding. "What I saw at the fucking school, Jesus." Ben closed his eyes, running his hand over them furiously.

Richie wanted to tell him that at least Pennywise probably wasn't mocking him for his sexuality, singing that godawful song to him in that grating, condescending voice of his.

I know your secret, your dirty little secret.

Richie pressed a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that suddenly swooped into his stomach. God, it wouldn't do for Richie to run to the fucking bathroom and vomit right now, would it? Not when he was trying his best to act all nonchalant in front of Ben.

"So much shit I wish I could forget," Ben whispered, his eyes still closed against the memories. "So much shit I thought I had forgotten. This is what he does," Ben said then. He opened his eyes and stared intently at Richie, almost like he knew exactly what it was Richie was thinking. "He fucks with us. But he also reminded me of something."

Richie slowly glanced back up at Ben, his gaze questioning.

Ben took a deep breath before he went on. "When I was little, he mocked me for being fat and for not having any friends because of it. And I remember blatantly telling him once that he was wrong." Ben raised an index finger, using it to emphasize his point. "He was wrong, because you guys were my friends – are my friends – as much as he wanted me to believe otherwise. And I guess that's why I'm still here. Because I don't want any of us to die. You guys are the only real family I've ever had and losing Stanley was enough. I'm still here to stand up for all of us, because Losers stick together, right?"

As much as Richie wanted to tell Ben he was full of shit, to turn around and run away then and there, he couldn't. Because goddamn it, he was right. Richie knew he was right.

"Yeah, man."


"Losers stick together," Ben said, coming around the row of hospital chairs to get into Richie's field of vision. "It was true then and it's true now. We killed that fucking clown once and for all because we were together. Because we refused to let fear divide us. That's not going to change now."

Richie kept staring down at Stan's letter, frowning deeply, his heart in throat. He refused to meet Ben's eyes, but he could feel them on him, still knowing, still judging. Just like everyone always was with someone like him. The paper started to shake ever so slightly in Richie's grip, trying desperately to figure out exactly what he was supposed to say.

Jesus, had Eddie been that correct? Now it seemed like not only Stan, but Ben too knew the truth about Richie. But Richie had no idea what he was supposed to do. Was Ben expecting him to simply step out of the closet like he hadn't firmly been in there for his entire life? Did Ben truly think it was that easy, to be honest about something that Richie could barely even admit to himself, even after nearly thirty years?

Was that even what Ben was telling him? Or was Richie completely off the mark, completely consumed in his own fear and shame?

Silently, Ben closed the distance between them and sat next to Richie. He didn't say anything at first, just sat next to Richie in companionable silence. Or that was probably what Ben thought it was. Meanwhile, Richie wished a giant hole in the floor would open up so that he could crawl into it.

"You know nothing you could ever tell me could change how I feel about you, right?" Ben asked tentatively. "That's not who I am, and I will continue to love you for whoever you are."

Richie's frown deepened and he felt his eyes burning with tears again. Goddamn it. Hadn't he cried all that shit out in the shower last week? He hadn't cried again since then, so he thought he had finally let out all the tears he'd had. But no. Here they were again, making their presence known.

Richie closed his eyes against them, wishing that he could believe Ben's words. These were words that he always hoped he would hear if he chose to come out to people, but in the end, Richie knew it would never happen. There was a reason Richie was so far in the closet as he was; because those like him were always judged just for the simple fact that they loved someone that the rest of society disapproved of.

Except where Eddie was concerned, Richie supposed. Eddie certainly didn't hate him, but as fate would have it, Eddie loved him just as much as Richie loved him. That was a special circumstance. Certainly not everyone else would be as welcoming of this news.

Except maybe for Stan too. Richie glanced over those words again, bleary through the unshed tears in his eyes.

Be who you want to be. Be proud. And then a little bit farther down the letter, be brave.

God, did that really mean what Richie wanted it to mean? Was Stan really telling him that he should be proud of the fact that he was gay? To be brave and fucking tell people? And Jesus, did Ben already know too, giving him what would quite possibly be the easiest fucking way in the world to come out? Was that really what Ben was referring to?

The tears finally started spilling over his eyelids, and Richie pulled his glasses off with his free hand. He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand against them, almost feeling the urge to get up and run the fuck away again. Richie really had no idea what Ben wanted from him. Did he truly want Richie to open up about his dirty little secret? The one that he had hidden from everyone in the world for so long, including himself? Did Ben really want Richie to bare the deepest, darkest part of himself, the one that there was absolutely no way back from? Once Richie was honest about this, there was no going back. Ben would know forever, and god only knew what he would do with that information.

But this was Ben, Richie reminded himself. Could Richie ever, in even his very darkest nightmares about this shit, imagine Ben doing anything cruel or vindictive with the knowledge of Richie's sexuality? Imagine him telling the rest of the Losers behind his back and laughing about it? Imagine him going on social media and publicly outing him? Could he even imagine Ben hating him for it? Could he imagine Ben hating anybody?

No, because this was Ben. Ben, who had spent his entire childhood being made fun of for stupid shit. Really, what the fuck was Richie afraid was going to happen? When he really sat down and thought about it, he had no fucking clue. Not anymore, but Richie decided when he focused on only one person, it didn't seem as nearly as scary as the whole world knowing all at once.

Those stupid sobs started to rumble through his back again, and Richie didn't have the fucking energy to stop them. He was tired. He was tired of all the fear that that fucking clown had pounded into him. He was tired of being stressed out about Eddie, not knowing if the love of his life would survive or not. He was tired of living a lie for his entire life, pretending that he very clearly didn't have feelings for his best friend in the least. He was tired of hiding in a closet.

He was tired.

Ben wouldn't really be sitting here, telling Richie that he would love him no matter what, unless he truly meant it, would he? Did he expect Ben to stand up at the truth, telling Richie that he was disgusting and he never wanted to speak to him again?

No, because again, this was Ben.

Ben.

"All right," Richie finally spoke, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He still didn't look at Ben, instead keeping his eyes pressed up against the back of his hand. His eyes were closed as tightly as possible, still scared to death of Ben's reaction. He was shaking from so much pent up emotion, he wasn't even sure he could form the words, but Richie took a deep breath and finally whispered, "I'm…gay."

His voice cracked on the word, and Richie didn't think Ben had heard him at first, because he'd spoken so quietly. The silence in the room seemed to grow to encompass them both after that. Richie's heart was beating impossibly hard and fast, almost feeling like it would explode inside his chest. Just then, however, Richie felt Ben's hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

"And I still love you, man," Ben told him. "Not in that way though, because you're totally not my type, but your mom on the other hand-" Ben broke off, not needing to finish his words.

Richie gasped in relief then snorted with laughter, rubbing at his eyes to try and wipe away the tears that had gathered on his eyelashes. God, it felt good to laugh and it felt good to know that Ben would use one of Richie's favorite go-to jokes to let him know that nothing would change.

A sob of relief escaped from Richie and he relaxed into Ben's touch, leaning against him and resting his head on Ben's shoulder. Ben brought his other arm up, crossing it over Richie's chest and gripping his shoulder tightly.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore, okay?" Ben asked, rubbing his hand up and down Richie's back. "Not about what I'll think. You're still Richie."

Richie continued to wipe the tears from his eyes and asked, "How long have you known?"

Ben didn't answer him for awhile as he considered his response. "I don't even know," he finally replied. "I think I suspected when we were kids, but…I don't remember for sure. I'd forgotten a lot of what made me think that in first place until…the Jade of the Orient. You called me hot. And gorgeous."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Richie cried indignantly, pulling away from Ben. "I mean, I think Bev's gorgeous too, but that doesn't mean I want to jump her bones."

"And did you ever make a production out of telling her so?"

"I was making a production of the fact that you'd lost weight."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you never looked at Bev like you did when you told me that."

"Jesus Christ," Richie muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair. "It's just my Trashmouth at it again. I always thought I was being so subtle about everything, but I just say shit without thinking it through. And apparently, I look at men I think are hot without thinking either."

"Then when we were in your room at the townhouse," Ben continued to answer Richie's question, "and you said that being afraid wasn't what you were ashamed of."

"Trashmouth strikes again."

"Things came flooding back so damn fast," Ben continued, "I couldn't believe I'd forgotten them. I…it was a lot of little things, I guess, but there was one thing in particular that sort of made me realize it – I couldn't remember you talking about having a crush on anyone ever."

"I wasn't the only one!"

"Well, yeah," Ben agreed, "and Eddie, because his mother would have fucking killed him if she knew he thought about such things."

The mention of Eddie's name made Richie wonder if Ben knew the full truth – that he'd had a crush on someone for fucking ever. It just wasn't the conventional type of crush that people expected and he'd hidden it as a result. Richie knew that if Ben didn't judge him for being gay, then he certainly wasn't going to think anything of the fact that he was head over heels in love with Eddie. But Richie didn't say anything about it. Not just yet. This was already a big step for Richie, and he'd take it one thing at a time. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"And you talked a lot of shit," Ben continued on, "especially about Eddie's mom, but when it came right down to it…it kind of felt like something was missing. Not quite…right, you know?"

Richie frowned deeply and this caused Ben to grimace.

"And that was a poor choice of words," Ben said. "I didn't mean it like that. Just that…something didn't fit. You talked about fucking Eddie's mom all the time, but never about anyone else. I don't think I really realized it back then. Not exactly, because…Derry. And all of the other small towns I'd lived in."

Richie hummed in agreement, sniffling quietly. "Eddie's mom was my way of hiding it. Of trying to seem manly or something. It was stupid."

"Then with the talk we had in your room," Ben added, "it sort of made me remember all of that."

"Maybe I wanted you to figure it out," Richie admitted, shaking his head. "Maybe I was sick and tired of hiding who I was. I mean, I didn't really intend to say that. I told you, things just sort of come out sometimes, but…I think I was hoping that you would might know what it meant. You are one of the fucking smartest out of all of us."

"And then the day that we brought Eddie in," Ben continued, "and you saw that article on Adrian Mellon-"

"Was I that fucking obvious?" Richie immediately asked, frowning at the thought.

"Not entirely," Ben reassured him. "I think I only noticed it, because of what you'd said back at the townhouse. That was when I knew that my suspicions were spot on, because you almost looked like you wanted to jump out of your own skin. You looked so…uncomfortable. Scared. Like a deer caught in between headlights. And I didn't want you be anymore. Not with me."

Richie replaced his glasses on his nose and smiled. "Thanks, man. Eddie told me that none of you would care, that I should just come out and tell you, but I didn't want to. I was still so fucking terrified."

"Eddie knows then?"

Richie paused, pressing his teeth over his bottom lip. "Just recently," Richie said around small laugh. "It just kind of came out when we were talking in his room and…he's the first person I ever told."

"So I'm the second?"

"Yeah."

Ben smiled back at him. "I'm glad I could be."

"Listen," Richie said, feeling a familiar sensation of fear settle into his stomach, "you won't tell anyone else, will you? Not even the other Losers? Because you and Eddie are the only two people that know and-"

"Your secret's safe," Ben cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on Richie's shoulder. "It's not my place to say anything. That's for you to tell people if and when you feel ready."

"Thank you," Richie said, around a long breath. "I don't even-" Just then, Richie's phone pinged, notifying him of a text message. "Sorry," Richie muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out.

There was a single text message from Eddie: I need you.

"I think Eddie's done with his phone call with Attila the Hun," Richie said. "Damn woman probably gave him a panic attack, because he's requesting my presence."

"She must really be bad if he wants to talk to you now."

"Yeah, yeah," Richie said, locking his phone and replacing it in his pocket as he got up from his chair. "I could show him Stan's letter too," he said, suddenly realizing that he still held the paper in question in his hand. "Can we…?" he started to ask, but Ben stopped him again.

"Yeah, go," Ben said, motioning back towards the intensive care unit. "Make sure Eddie's okay, because there's a damn reason we didn't call that woman ourselves. We'll talk about this later. Are you going to be okay if I go meet the others then?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

Richie smiled. "I am now. Thank you." He nodded gently, trying his best to convey his thoughts in a way that he knew his words never could.

"Anytime," Ben said, returning his smile once again. "Losers stick together."

Richie was still smiling as he turned, making his way back towards Eddie's room. Maybe, just maybe, things would actually be okay. Maybe for the very first time in Richie's life, he could start living the life he wanted to, and not the one he thought he was supposed to.

To be continued…

Author's note: The conversation between Richie and Ben was originally going to be between Richie and Beverly, but she somehow morphed into Ben somewhere along the way. Especially when I started thinking about including a flashback to Richie and Ben's conversation at the townhouse and what they might have said to each other. Once I had that conversation planned out, this seemed like a natural progression from that. This chapter got completely out of hand, because I was planning on having the next part of Richie and Eddie's conversation, but that obviously didn't happen. We'll get back to Eddie in the next chapter!

Thank you so much to everyone who's commented so far. Your words mean so much to me and please do feel free to leave your own ideas so I know what you guys would like to see!