Author's note: I apologize for the wait on this chapter. Things have been really busy at work with the holidays and I've been under the weather off and on this month, not really feeling up to writing. But here it is finally! I hope you enjoy and happy holidays, my lovely readers!

Brave
Chapter 8 – Someone Worth Holding Onto

"Did you talk to Attila the Hun?" Richie asked as he stepped into Eddie's room. The smile on Richie's face, however, suddenly fell when he saw the state that Eddie was in.

Eddie's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open in an expression of pain. He was gasping loudly for air, even though the doctors still had him on oxygen. Eddie's hands were balled up into fists, grasping at the sheet underneath him. He kept arching his back in throes of his gasps, but then would whine in pain, falling back against the mattress.

"Hey," Richie said, quickly crossing the room to Eddie's bed. He folded up Stanley's letter, placing it inside the large pocket of his hoodie. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress again, careful not to jostle Eddie, Richie reached out and gently placed his hands on Eddie's tense and shaking shoulders. "I'm here. Breathe, man – in through your nose, hold, and out through your mouth, remember?" He ran his thumbs lightly over Eddie's bare skin near his neck.

Eddie sucked in another rattling breath through his mouth before he shut it, nodding at Richie's words. He exhaled forcefully through his nose, before he breathed in again and then let it through his mouth. An expression of determination settled over his features as he concentrated on trying to get his breathing under control again.

Richie wanted to ask him what had happened, but that would have been the world's dumbest question; all it took was one look at Eddie to know the answer to that. "Don't let her do this to you," Richie said instead.

"She's gonna-" Eddie said, breaking off to expel a breath, "-cause problems. She's pissed."

"Well, yeah," Richie agreed. "She just found out she's lost the hottest fucking guy on the face of the earth. I'd be concerned if she wasn't angry."

This caused Eddie to open his eyes, staring at Richie like he was out of his mind. Again, this was nothing new to Richie, but his words had had the desired effect. Eddie closed his eyes again, but then he shook his head in amusement. He kept breathing loudly, but he was no longer gasping like he had just run a lap around the entire hospital. After a moment, Eddie's hands began to unclench, releasing his grip on the sheets.

"I am not hot," Eddie said deliberately, his voice slowly returning to normal, although he was still grimacing with every breath in and out.

"Are you in pain?" Richie asked in concern.

Eddie only nodded, letting out another shaky breath. "Nothing like what I'm used to," he said around a pained sob. "Thought I was having a heart attack."

"Your pain meds must be wearing off," Richie said, reaching towards the wall behind Eddie's bed. He pressed the button to call for the nurse before returning his hand to its place on Eddie's shoulder. Richie found some odd sort of comfort that just his touch on Eddie's skin seemed to help calm him down. "I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to be stabbed by a giant fucking space clown."

Once Eddie had woken up, they had started to taper him off of the morphine he'd been on so that he could rest. They'd offered him pain meds by mouth now if he needed them, but Eddie had been refusing them, insisting that the pain wasn't that bad. It looked like that was finally catching up to him.

"Like a bitch," Eddie said around a last, sharp breath of air. When he let it out, it was slower now, and he swallowed audibly. He opened his eyes again, staring intently at Richie.

"And you're wrong," Richie said in response to Eddie's earlier comment. He smiled warmly as he said, "You are hot. You're fucking hot as shit. Always have been. Like I told you, even when you looked like a dork way back when, I thought you were hot."

The grimace still present upon Eddie's face softened slightly, a small smile taking over his features. "You need your goddamned eyes checked."

"My prescription's up-to-date," Richie said matter-of-factly, bringing up a hand to straighten his glasses on his nose. "I'll have you know that these were brand new glasses until It cracked the fuck out of them." He sighed before he added, "I'll have to order a new pair again once I get back to LA. But I can still see you just fine, hot stuff." Richie gave him a lopsided grin.

Eddie's eyebrows, however, knit together in an expression Richie couldn't quite place. Richie assumed that Eddie was feeling a throb of pain, but that wasn't quite it. Before Richie could inquire further, they were interrupted.

"Is everything okay?" Eddie's usual afternoon nurse, James asked, leaning around the doorway into the room.

"He's in a lot of pain," Richie explained. "Can he get something for that?"

James nodded once and said, "Of course," before he once again disappeared back out into the halls.

"And Myra doesn't think I'm hot, so you're wrong too," Eddie continued on. "She tells me all the time how I'd 'look better' if I did my hair differently, or wore different clothes." Eddie rolled his eyes before he added, "She approves of my suits, but that's about it. She gets so mad when I wear my hoodies and windbreakers. Says they're 'trashy'."

Richie tried to suppress the wave of anger that rose up inside him. He was still trying to give Myra the benefit of the doubt, because as he kept reminding himself, he didn't know her, but she fucking took the cake. Literally and figuratively.

"She doesn't know what she had," Richie muttered. "When I saw you in the Jade of the Orient, standing there in your red windbreaker, I about lost my shit."

"You were completely consumed by the fact that Ben lost weight!" Eddie cried, but then he apparently regretted it. The grimace returned to his face and he closed his eyes, his hand going up to the bandages around his abdomen. He sucked in a sharp breath of air through his mouth.

"In through your nose," Richie reminded him, running his hands up and down Eddie's biceps now. Just then, it occurred to Richie for the very first time that Eddie's upper arms really weren't quite as frail as he always seemed to assume they were. There were actually some sharply defined muscles there that Eddie hid under his sweatshirts and jackets. Richie liked them.

After he took a moment to steady his breathing again, Eddie caught Richie staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"I…do you work out?" Richie asked.

"What?" Eddie asked again like it was the most absurd question known to man.

"You're buff," Richie said in awe, staring down at the biceps under his fingers. Richie was suddenly feeling very self-conscious, regretting the fact that he had put off working out all the damn time. "Do you go to the gym?"

"God, no," Eddie replied, finally beginning to sound like his old self before the phone call with Attila the Hun. "Do you have any idea what absolute breeding grounds those places are for bacteria?! Holy shit. They're worse than hospitals in many cases! Which is the only reason I'm not freaking the fuck out just by being here. I read a study once where every single piece of equipment they tested in a particular gym was positive for some sort of bacteria. They found staph infections up the ass, rhinovirus, impetigo, and MRSA. That's resistant to many types of antibiotics, so do you have any idea what the fuck could happen to you if-?"

"Your ass falls off?" Richie asked. Now that he knew Eddie was going to be okay, Richie would happily listen to his rants for hours on end, but he had more pressing matters on his mind at the moment.

Eddie blinked, pausing mid-rant. "What?"

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of seeing what yours feels like yet," Richie pointed out around a pout. "That would suck."

"You're such a jackass," Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes. If Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he caught the faintest blush of pink rise up in his cheeks, and that almost made Richie crazy all on its own.

"Hey, I was just asking if you worked out or not," Richie said. "I don't need a complete rundown of all the different sorts of bacteria inside a gym." Richie planted his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. He propped his chin in his hand and stared at Eddie intently, smiling. "Although you have no fucking idea how much I've missed this over the years. And how terrified I was that I'd never hear your neurotic ramblings ever again."

Eddie pushed gently at Richie's arm, causing Richie to lose his grip on his chin.

"Stop it," Eddie mumbled.

"What?"

"Stop acting like you…enjoy this," Eddie said, vaguely gesturing to himself. "That you enjoy me being a fucking ball of nervousness and neuroses, because I know you don't!"

"Eds," Richie said quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"And stop calling me Eds!"

Richie reached out a hand, placing it gently over Eddie's cheek. He waited for Eddie's eyes to meet his before he said, "I love you. I…do you know what those words mean? No, I don't enjoy the fact that you have issues. That isn't the right word, but…this is who you are and I love you. All of you. And yes, that includes all of your hypochondria, and anxiety, and panic attacks, and…everything. You wouldn't be you without those things. And believe me, when I thought Pennywise had killed you…it felt like a piece of me had fucking died. I couldn't bear the thought of going forward and never hearing those things from you ever again."

The angry expression that had been present upon Eddie's face immediately softened. His eyebrows went up, his mouth pulling down into a frown, his eyes large and round. He brought a hand up to his cheek, placing it atop Richie's and pressing his face into it.

"Oh, Rich," Eddie sighed. He opened his mouth to add something else, but just then, Eddie's nurse returned to the room.

He was holding a small, white paper cup. He crossed the room and held it out for Eddie. "There's water-" James said as Eddie took the cup.

"Don't need it," Eddie cut him off. He held the cup to his mouth and tilted it back, quickly swallowing the pills down and handing the cup back over to James. "Thanks."

"Sure," James said. "Let us know if you need anything else."

Once James had left the room again, Eddie said, "And to answer your question, I work out from the comfort of my own home, where each piece of workout equipment can be sanitized both before and after I use it."

"Of course you do," Richie said, but his voice was fond, affectionate. He could just imagine Eddie with fucking wet wipes up the ass, poking into every single crevice of his home gym, making sure that the staph infections were kept sufficiently at bay. "Do you lift weights?" he asked next, suddenly hungry for the mental images of Eddie hot and sweaty while exercising. "What kinds of equipment do you have?"

"I do lift weights," Eddie replied, "and I have a treadmill. Which you could probably do with one yourself." He reached out to press a finger to Richie's stomach. "We're forty years old. That shit is going to start catching up with you."

Richie was suddenly too distracted by the fact that Eddie exercised to worry about himself being out of shape. "And you run? On your treadmill?"

"One mile every morning," Eddie told him. "It gets me going for the day. Then at night, I do yoga to help me relax. Although it doesn't always work, especially when I have to get into bed with Myra afterwards and she starts bitching about stuff." He rolled his eyes, but then he snorted. "And then she wonders why I found comfort in a crass comedian on the internet. Because your stupid jokes were leaps and bounds better than listening to her."

Richie found himself smiling smugly. "But, Jesus. All that yoga – that means you're really flexible and shit, right?"

"I was," Eddie said pointedly, his eyes drifting down to the bandages around his abdomen. "I don't know if that'll still be true after this."

"Hey," Richie said, letting one of his hands drift down gently to Eddie's chest. He settled his hand overtop the bandages ever so slightly, reminding himself that Eddie was in pain. "You have a lot of healing to do, but you'll get there. I'll help you."

"Rich," Eddie said, but he broke off, his gaze going to the windows. "I don't…" He stopped again, let out a harsh sigh, then turned back to Richie. "Listen, I helped take care of my mother when she was dying. It fucking sucks, okay? It's a lot of hard, thankless work, but…she was my mom. As fucking complicated as it was, I still loved her and I wanted to help her. But…you don't…you don't owe me anything-"

Richie silenced him with a finger to Eddie's lips. "I told you, I love you," Richie said firmly. "It isn't about owing you anything or feeling obligated to do anything for you. You're the love of my life. You're only fucking person I've ever loved this deeply, and I want to help you. Okay? Will you please let me do that?"

"But I'm stupid, and anxious, and I have a fucking woman I wished I wasn't married to, and it's such a fucking mess," Eddie said in a rush, getting visibly worked up again. "You don't need to deal with this shit."

Richie leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie's forehead. "And I love your stupid anxious ass," he said when he straightened up. "I don't just love you when you're calm, you know. And I told you, we're going to work all of this out – together."

"Even my stupid wife?" Eddie asked skeptically. "And don't even hand me some bullshit about wanting to fuck her."

"Even your stupid wife," Richie replied around a smile. Stupid was good word for her, but he was glad that Eddie had said it first.

"But you're kind of famous," Eddie finally voiced his fears, biting at his bottom lip. "What if she somehow finds out about you and causes problems for your career?" Eddie glanced up at Richie, his eyes large and round. "Maybe that's what I'm most concerned about. You've worked hard to get where you are-"

"No, I haven't," Richie interjected around a snort.

"I'm worried," Eddie continued on as if Richie hadn't spoken, "that you'll decide that this isn't worth the hassle." Eddie gestured between them and added, "You'll realize that this isn't worth risking your career over, and you'll leave me behind once and for all to-"

"Eds," Richie cut him off. "I'm never going to leave you behind ever again. I mean, I feel kind of lucky to have remembered you again at all. To have remembered all of the feelings I've ever had for you." Richie balled up one of his hands into a fist and pressed it against his chest. "How many people get that lucky?"

"Lucky to have a decades-spanning battle with a goddamned space clown that forces them to return to their hometown and confront their deepest, darkest fears?"

"Well, yeah," Richie said quickly. "Not that part so much, but…how many people lose their childhood love, but then get a fucking second chance at it? Not to mention, the fact that you love me back and we have a chance to be together-" Richie stopped, blinking around the tears that were stinging at his eyes again. He pressed his quivering lips together, taking a moment to try and reign in his emotions before he continued. "I never even could have imagined that shit would work out this way." Just then, something occurred to Richie and he asked, "If Pennywise was still alive, would that mean we'd have to invite him to our wedding?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Rich," Eddie cried, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Just when you're making me think that you're capable of having a serious conversation, you fucking go and ruin it. And no, we wouldn't be obligated to invite Pennywise to our wedding." He rolled his eyes. "That would be like having to invite Bowers too, because he was the reason we became friends in the first place."

Richie sat blinking dumbly at Eddie. "Wait, what?"

"Richie," Eddie said, staring at him earnestly. "Please tell me you remember how we became friends."

Richie stared at Eddie some more, the memory that Eddie was talking about just a giant black hole in his mind. Richie thought he had remembered everything – or least everything of importance – by now. But no. There were still so many precious things that were gone, lost to the curse that Pennywise had placed upon them.


Eddie was just a boy in his first grade class. Richie didn't know all that much about him, other than the fact that he often used his inhaler and was called to the office at regular times throughout the day to take medications. Richie had never really spoken to him, other than when they were put into groups to do those stupid activities for class.

That all changed one day in early October when Eddie's friend, Bill was home with the flu. Eddie and Bill usually walked to and from school together. It was the only reason Sonia Kaspbrak let Eddie leave the house without her – when she knew that he was with 'that nice boy, Bill'. In hindsight, Richie knew that Sonia was unaware that Bill was out sick that day, otherwise, she never would have let her vulnerable son out of her sight.

Normally, Eddie and Bill would stick together during lunch and on the playground. Richie never saw one without the other, and this was the very first time Richie had seen Eddie by himself. On that particular day, Eddie ate lunch alone, speaking to no one, and then walked out to the playground by himself. Eddie sat on a bench at the rear of the playground, watching a group of kids play kickball together.

It was the first time Richie ever really took notice of Eddie – of how little, and lonely, and longing he appeared. Eddie kept his eyes glued to the kickball, almost looking like he wanted to ask to join in the game, but he didn't move from his seat. He fumbled in the fanny pack that his mother made him wear, repeatedly pulling out his inhaler during the thirty minutes they were allotted for recess. Richie would find out later that Eddie was on the verge of having a panic attack, feeling absolutely naked without his friend, Bill there with him.

Richie balanced himself on the monkey bars, not quite sure why he was watching Eddie so closely. Perhaps he knew Eddie would need him at some point during that recess. Perhaps he could already sense the fact that their fates would intertwine them so tightly and closely together, they'd never be completely whole without the other. Maybe he just felt bad for the apparently fragile little boy who looked so lost and alone.

Richie was considering going over to him, asking if he could join him on the bench. Richie wasn't sure what he'd say to him – to this boy he barely knew – but he wanted to keep him company nonetheless. But then that decision was taken out of his hands completely.

Lost in his thoughts, Richie didn't even see Henry Bowers appear behind Eddie, placing his hands on the back of the bench, and leaning forward to speak in Eddie's ear. But Richie did hear the words that Henry said, loud and clear, even across the playground and over the screams of joy and laughter of the other children.

"How many times have you used that thing today, Kaspbrak?" Bowers asked, reaching his hand to grab Eddie's inhaler from him.

Richie heard Eddie gasp and jump, trying fruitlessly to take his inhaler back. The older and taller Henry kept it easily out of his grip, even when Eddie stood up and started jumping up and down to try and reach it.

Richie sat up straighter from his perch on the monkey bars, looking around for a teacher to step in, but there were no adults on the playground. Unbelievable. Weren't the teachers supposed to keep a watch on them at all times? Again, Richie would realize much later on that things like that were to be expected in Derry.

"Give that…back," Eddie said in between gasps for air, standing on his tiptoes and stretching his fingers out for his inhaler which was well beyond his reach.

"Fuck," Richie muttered, quickly climbing down from the monkey bars.

He didn't even know what had come over him, because normally, Richie would look the other way when Bowers picked on the other kids. As long as it was someone else, that meant Richie was getting a reprieve. Unless it was one of his friends, of course, but Richie certainly wouldn't consider Eddie a friend. Just a boy in his class. But seeing Bowers play keep-away with Eddie lit something inside Richie's chest, a feeling that he wouldn't even be able to put a name to for quite a while yet.

Bowers was so absorbed in keeping Eddie's inhaler away from him, he didn't even notice Richie come up behind him.

"Leave him alone," Richie said, shoving Bowers firmly in the back.

This caused Henry to stumble, and Richie was easily able to grab Eddie's inhaler out of the older boy's grasp.

"He has asthma, fucker," Richie snapped, wrenching the inhaler from Henry's fingers. "Are you so fucking bored that you have to steal medication from a first grader?"

Richie held the inhaler out for Eddie, who grabbed it back. It looked like Eddie wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite get the words out. He gave Richie a grateful look before he placed the inhaler to his lips again, taking several deep breaths.

"What's it to you, Four Eyes?" Henry asked, his glare suddenly going to Richie, shoving him hard in the chest.

Richie stumbled backwards, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Clenching his hands into fists, Richie ran forward, barreling all of his weight into Henry. This caused Bowers to fall backwards, taking Richie with him. Henry grunted as his back and head came into contact with the cement, and Richie could feel the concrete cutting his knees open, but he didn't care.

"Just leave him alone," Richie yelled, shoving his hands into Bowers chest again. "It's not his fault he needs medication."

Behind him, Richie was only vaguely aware of Eddie gasping even louder, using his inhaler repeatedly. Off to his right, the kids playing kickball had stopped their game to turn and watch, the ball rolling across the playground, forgotten.

"Fight!" some of the kids yelled, pointing to where Richie and Henry were now rolling around on the ground.

Henry had kicked Richie off of him, and Richie rolled over onto his back, no match for the much older boy. Henry was on top of Richie now, kneeing him in the groin and turning Richie's face to shove it into the cement underneath him.

"You've been asking for it, Tozier!" Henry screamed, leaning forward into Richie's face, his saliva flying onto Richie's cheek.

Richie grimaced, against the pressure on his groin, the moisture on his face, and the hard concrete pressing into his other cheek. He tried to get his arms in between himself and Bowers, but even then, it was no use – Bowers was much too big and heavy on top of him.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie muttered quietly, sounding panicked and like his inhaler wasn't working at all. "Shit."

A couple of the other kids on the playground must have run off to get a teacher, because out of the corner of his eye, Richie could see Miss Douglas, the fourth grade teacher hurrying towards them.

"Henry Bowers!" Miss Douglas yelled. She raised her finger and pointed at them before she screamed, "Get off that boy and report to the principal's office immediately!"

Finally, Henry stopped pressing Richie's face into the cement, halted his knee before it jammed into Richie's groin again. Henry straightened, looking up and across the playground at Miss Douglas closing in on them.

It was Richie's turn to gasp for air, watching as Henry released his hold on Richie and scurried up off of him. Henry's jaw was clenching as he watched Miss Douglas approach, then Henry's eyes flashed back to Richie once more.

Henry raised a finger at Richie and said, "Now you're really going to get it, so you better look behind you when you go home. Fucker." Henry placed a swift kick to Richie's side before he took off.

Richie groaned, although it was nothing compared to the pain that had been exploding in his groin just moments before. Richie could hear Miss Douglas yelling at Henry again for that kick, but Bowers was gone, running across the playground and up the steps into the school.

Richie slowly sat up, wiping at his face where it had been pressed into the ground, brushing little pieces of gravel from his skin. He looked up at Eddie, who had retreated into the corner of the playground, holding his inhaler in both hands close to his chest. He was watching Richie with large and scared eyes.

"Stupid Bowers," Richie said indignantly, and he would have used some stronger words if it weren't for the fact that Miss Douglas had almost reached him.

"Are you okay?" Miss Douglas asked, bending over to wrap a hand around Richie's upper arm. "Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"No, I'm fine," Richie said, running his hands through his hair as he stood up. He bent over, brushing off gravel from his shorts and assessing the damage done to his knees. They were a little bloody where the cement had scratched them, but not even close to what he'd done to himself the time he'd flown headfirst over the handlebars of his bike. "I'm fine."

"B-Bowers stole my inhaler," Eddie spoke up for the first time, apart from the lone swear swords he had uttered just moments before. "Richie got it back for me and Bowers…starting hitting him." Richie could see him swallowing several times, diverting his gaze to the ground.

It only vaguely occurred to Richie that he might also be sent to the principal for fighting. Richie was still too concerned about Eddie to worry about such things, but with a few well-placed words, Eddie made sure that Richie wouldn't share a similar fate. Richie could feel the very corner of his lips curling up into a smile, staring at Eddie and making sure he knew that Richie appreciated it.

"And are you okay?" Miss Douglas asked next, making her way over to Eddie. She placed a hand on his back, seemingly monitoring his breathing.

"Yes, ma'am," Eddie said. He nodded vigorously before pressing his inhaler to his lips again, taking several deep breaths.

"Perhaps we should get you both to the nurse, just in case," Miss Douglas said. She placed her other hand on Richie's shoulders, guiding them both back to the school. "You two can at least sit down and collect yourselves for a while."

Richie and Eddie had sat quietly in the nurse's office throughout the next period. The nurse had cleaned Richie's knees with cotton balls and antiseptic before hovering over Eddie for quite some time, asking if his mother should be called. It took Eddie at least five minutes to convince the nurse that he was fine, and that there was absolutely no reason for his mother to become involved.

It was only when the nurse left them alone, sitting side by side on the nurse's couch, that Eddie seemed to take notice of Richie.

"Thanks," Eddie said, glancing at Richie, but then away again.

"Don't mention it," Richie reassured him. He almost felt the urge to reach out and lay a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder, but he didn't. "Fucker shouldn't have stolen your inhaler."

A small smile flitted across Eddie's lips, the first smile Richie had seen on his lips during this entire ordeal. "Bowers is really going to be out for your blood now though," Eddie said regretfully.

Richie waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. You heard what he said – I've been asking for it for a while apparently." Richie shrugged. "Just now, he'll really want to punch my face in. No biggie."

Eddie's smile grew, but he kept staring down at the inhaler in his hands, refusing to meet Richie's eyes.

As soon as school was over that day, Richie quickly caught up to Eddie in the hall before he got anywhere near the doors. Richie wasn't even that concerned Bowers would find him and beat him up, but Richie couldn't bear the thought of Eddie walking home alone, constantly looking over his shoulder.

"Can I walk you home?" Richie asked tentatively, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders.

Eddie started, jumping at Richie's voice next to him. "Er…" Eddie began, stumbling over his words. He shook his head, looking like he was on the verge of refusing Richie's help.

"Please?" Richie said. "I'd feel better knowing you got home safe."

"So would my mother," Eddie muttered, staring down at his shoes as they weaved in and out of the groups of kids in the hall. "I guess so," he finally agreed, smiling up at Richie.

And even after Bill had returned to school the following day, Richie now joined them on the walks to and from school. Between Richie and Bill, never again would Eddie have to walk alone.


"Holy shit," Richie said, blinking unbelievably at the fact that he had completely forgotten why he had started hanging out with Eddie in the first place.

"You took a knee in the groin from Bowers for me," Eddie said warmly.

"See?" Richie asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Even then, before I fucking knew you, I wanted to help you." Richie shook his head before he added, "It has absolutely nothing to do with feeling obligated, but just…helping you when you need it. And that feeling's a lot stronger than it was back then we were just acquaintances. So will you fucking let me? Please let me help you."

Eddie closed his eyes against Richie's words, shaking his own head. "Rich-"

"If I can't convince you," Richie interrupted, suddenly remembering the letter in his pocket, "then maybe Stan can." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the folded and crumpled letter.

Eddie lifted his head gently above his pillow. "Stan?"

Richie carefully unfolded the letter and held it out for Eddie. "I guess Stan made a copy for each of us before…" Richie began to explain, but then he halted his words, not needing to go on. "This is the copy Mike got."

Richie sat silently as Eddie took the paper from him, reading through it. The frown lines between Eddie's eyebrows formed as he made his way through the letter, the corners of his mouth pulling down at the corners. If Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he could also see the very faint shimmer of tears in Eddie's deep brown eyes.

Once he had gotten to the end of the letter, Richie could see Eddie swallowing, could see his eyes going up and over previous parts of the letter.

"'Be who you want to be,'" Eddie said, breaking the silence that had settled into the room. His eyes went up to Richie before he added, "'Be proud. And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go.'"

"Yeah," Richie whispered, feeling his eyes burn again. "That was the part that got me too." Richie laughed quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "So much so that I ended up coming out to Ben."

Eddie blinked at him like he wasn't quite sure what he was hearing. "Wait, what?"

"I wasn't planning on it!" Richie cried, waving his arms around for emphasis. "I read the letter and then Ben sat me down in the waiting room, just the two of us. He made sure I knew that nothing I could ever tell him would change how he felt about me. He already knew, he just wanted me to feel safe enough to tell him. I sat there for I don't know how long, debating with myself, but…in the end, I told him. I told him I'm gay." Richie knew those last words weren't necessary, but now that he had started to say them, he kept getting the urge to repeat them – at least where it was safe to do so.

Eddie reached out for one of Richie's hands, entwining their fingers together. "And?" Eddie asked.

"And he didn't care," Richie replied, smiling, his mind going to that moment in the waiting room where he sat in Ben's arms, feeling safe and accepted. "You were right."

"I told you."

"But he was the only one and that was all I told him," Richie said hurriedly, shaking his head. "I didn't tell him about you, or us, or-"

"And you don't need to," Eddie cut him off, rubbing his thumb over the back of Richie's hand. "I understand what a big step that was, even if Ben made it safe for you to do so. It's fucking scary and daunting as hell, and it'll happen if and when you feel ready."

Richie nodded at Eddie's words, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. "I know. But…that really isn't why I wanted you to read Stan's letter."

Eddie's eyes went back to the paper in between his fingers, reading through various parts of it again.

"'If you find someone worth holding onto,'" Richie repeated firmly, "'never, ever let them go.'"

"Do…do you think Stan knew about us?"

"I don't know," Richie answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I've asked myself that about a million times already. I mean…you did suspect that at least a couple of the Losers did. Perhaps Stan and I'm guessing that Ben might too, even though we didn't talk about that yet."

"Look at Ben and Beverly," Eddie said thoughtfully, pressing himself back into his pillow and taking a deep breath. It appeared as if his painkillers had started to kick in. "Is anyone really surprised that they've had feelings for each other since forever too?"

Richie shook his head, but then asked, "Do you see though? Eddie, to me, you're that person worth holding onto." He bit at his lower lip, shaking his head even more furiously. "I let you go once – I lost over twenty fucking years with you – and I'm not going to let that happen again. Not when I was lucky enough to find you, to remember you again. So you're going to have an angry ex-wife on your heels and I might have to do some damage control with my career if it comes to that." Richie shrugged nonchalantly. "Who the fuck cares? The only thing I really care about is you and…us. That's all I really want is us." Richie tightened his grip around Eddie's hand, resting his other hand over top of it and squeezing tightly. "To me, that includes taking care of you when you need it, because that's what you do for the people you love." Richie paused for a moment before he added, "I mean, you already made it safe for me to come out to you, and you're talking me through coming out to the rest of the world. So I know if our roles were reversed, you'd want to do the same for me."

Eddie's eyes went to their hands, clasped tightly together. When he looked back up at Richie, he said, "Yeah, I would. Without question."

"And would you judge me if I had a scar across my chest to show for it?"

Eddie's eyes dropped again, trailing back over the bandages over his abdomen. Wordlessly, Eddie shook his head.

"Then please let me do this," Richie pleaded, his voice beginning to crack with emotion. With how fucking much he loved Eddie and how desperately he just wanted to help him. "God, this is all I've ever wanted. You are all I've ever wanted, and I'm going to hold onto you until you tell me to fuck off once and for all."

Eddie smiled, but then his expression drastically changed. He blinked a tear from his eye, his lips beginning to tremble. "Never, Rich. I never want you to fuck off. I just…I just want you too."

Richie leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Eddie's. "And you've got me," he said before he pressed a kiss to Eddie's quivering lips. "I promise."

To be continued…

Author's note: Super excited for the next chapter. It will jump forward in time a little bit, focusing on Eddie getting out of the hospital and he and the rest of the Losers starting to get back to their normal lives. That includes more drama and more interactions with the rest of the Losers going forward!