Author's note: So my muse made me start an amnesia story after all, but I put Richie on the receiving end of it instead of Eddie. The first three chapters of that are up on my account if you would like to read it, but I needed to come back to this poor story before it got too neglected. I apologize for taking a month away from this story as a result, but have a longer chapter to make up for it.

And Myra still does not get any easier to write.

Brave
Chapter 20 – Myra

Eddie spent most of the morning in the car with his nose in one of his books. He and Richie drove mostly in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming changes they would soon be facing. After they stopped for lunch, Eddie ended up reclining his seat in the car and dozing off for the rest of their drive to New York.

Richie's eyes kept going over to Eddie as he steered the car down the highway, to the way Eddie's head lolled against his shoulder, to the way his hand rested on his thigh. Every time the fire opal on Eddie's finger caught the sunlight just right, Richie would end up grinning like a maniac. Richie reached out more than once, laying his hand over Eddie's, reveling in the way the ring sat comfortably on Eddie's finger.

The love of Richie's life wanted to marry him, and the thought alone was almost like a drug, making Richie feel like he was on top of the world. But of course, as with all things, what went up must come down.

Eddie had made a reservation at a hotel not far from his house in New York before they left Derry, and when Richie turned off his car in the hotel parking lot, he reached out to shake Eddie awake.

"Eds?" Richie asked quietly, gently squeezing his arm. "We're here."

Eddie jerked awake, immediately reaching up to wipe at the line of drool that had collected on his cheek. This made Richie smile, imagining Eddie waking up like that every morning for the rest of their lives, trying to remove all evidence that he had done anything as human as drool.

Fucking adorable idiot.

"Jesus," Eddie muttered, rubbing at his eyes before glancing around the parking lot of the hotel. "I didn't plan on sleeping so long. Sorry."

"Don't be," Richie replied. He let his hand drop from Eddie's arm and trailed it down along his chest. "All this healing takes a lot out of you. You need your rest."

Eddie shook his head. "I still should have helped you drive at least part of the way."

"It's fine," Richie told him, removing his keys from the ignition and releasing his seatbelt. "If you didn't know yet, I'm a bit overprotective of my car, and I don't let just anyone drive it. Especially someone with anger issues and who's been known to have had accidents in the past." Richie pushed his door open and got out.

"Hey! Fuck you!" Eddie cried, hurrying to remove his seatbelt and follow suit. "I've only had one accident in my life and that was when Mike called me! I could hardly be held responsible for that." Eddie frowned deeply as he watched Richie open the trunk of the car. "Fuck that stupid space clown for ruining my safe driving record and for making my insurance go up for something that wasn't my fault!"

"You ran a red light, dude," Richie said, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and pulling out one of Eddie's suitcases with the other hand.

"Not my fault!" Eddie snapped. "I mean, you threw up when Mike called you. We were both kind of a mess when we were reminded of…everything."

Richie set Eddie's larger suitcase down on the ground before reaching back into the trunk for Eddie's smaller suitcase and toiletry bag. He set the smaller suitcase on the ground next to its mate, but then gripped the toiletry bag in both hands, squeezing the handle tightly. He stared down at it long and hard, desperately wanting to be honest with Eddie, but feeling sick all over again at the thought of just talking about it.

"What?" Eddie asked quietly. He laid a soft hand on Richie's arm, running his thumb over the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "What's wrong?"

Richie took and held a deep breath before letting it out slowly, trying to urge his stomach to settle down. "That's not all I did."

"What do you mean?" That frown line had settled in between Eddie's eyebrows again and he was watching Richie intently. When he still didn't reply, Eddie added, "Hey. You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," Richie said around a sigh. He turned and leaned back against the car's taillight, still staring down at Eddie's bag in his hands. "I threw up and then I fucking bombed on stage. I left out that little part. I didn't even make it through my first joke before…my mind went blank." Richie finally looked up into Eddie's eyes and said, "Or rather it was consumed by thoughts of Pennywise, and Bowers, and…you. I couldn't believe I forgot you. And I was booed off the stage, and then I threw up again. So you see why I haven't exactly been all that thrilled with the possibility of returning to work." He hung his head again and said, "Because my last show was a fucking disaster and I made a fool out of myself."

Eddie took a step closer, reaching out for Richie's arm once again. "Did anything like that ever happen before?"

Richie shook his head. "Not that bad. I mean, I fucked up jokes and punchlines before, but I never just went blank on an entire routine. And I never got booed off the stage before. I know the longer I stay away, the worse it's going to be when I do go back, but…I'm doing it again – running away. Like I've done with everything my entire life. When we were still in Derry, it was…far enough away that I could put it out of my mind, but now…the closer we get to LA, the more I realize that I'm going to have to confront it again at some point. I can't keep putting it off like I have been doing, and…that scares me. Derry was…safe. As fucked up as that sounds. I mean, I'm glad to be out of there once and for all. Don't get me wrong, but…" He broke off and shook his head, not even sure what he was trying to say anymore.

"Oh, Rich," Eddie murmured, running his hand up Richie's arm to his shoulder. "You'll get back into it. One major fuck up isn't going to define your entire career."

"But it isn't just the fuck up itself," Richie told him. "Jason put out a statement that I was dealing with one friend's death and another friend's near-death, but…I told you, rumors fly. People seem to be under the impression that I went on a drug- and/or alcohol-fueled bender and I had to check myself into rehab." Richie broke off into a snort and stared up at the sky, like it might have all the answers about putting his career back together and publicly coming out. "Like losing one friend and almost losing another in the span of a few days isn't enough. And if I can't even deal with this, how the hell am I going to fucking come out?"

Richie was staring down at the ground now, feeling all of his fears come bubbling to the surface again now that they were closer to LA. As much as he hated being stuck in Derry while Eddie began his recovery, it had still been a nice getaway of sorts. It had been nice living in domestic bliss with Eddie and pretending that he didn't have a career he had put on hold waiting for him back in California.

"Richie, look at me," Eddie said firmly, his hand going up to Richie's cheek next. He waited for Richie to meet his eyes before he said, "You keep talking about how brave I am, but…you're brave too, you know."

Richie scoffed at him, because he had done nothing but run away from his problems and his insecurities for his entire life. He kicked at a small pebble in the parking lot with the toe of his shoe, watching it tumble away. "What have I ever done that's brave?"

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie asked in exasperation. "You fought It. Twice. Even when you were just as scared to death as we all were. And when It had Bill, and he told us all to leave and save ourselves, you were the first one to step up and say 'let's kill this fucking clown.' You remember that?"

Still staring at where the pebble had landed several feet away, Richie gave him a small nod, unable to meet his eyes again.

"Remember when you wouldn't leave me down in the sewers, even to save yourself?" Eddie asked next.

"That was mostly because I couldn't bear the thought of you being down there forever. Of going through the rest of my life without you after I'd just gotten you back."

"Putting others' safety before your own – no matter your reasons for doing so – is being brave," Eddie said firmly. "Stop making excuses for yourself."

Frowning deeply, Richie kept staring down at the ground, at that poor defenseless little pebble he had kicked into oblivion.

"Why was it brave when I stabbed Pennywise?" Eddie asked, still trying to get through to Richie. "Why was it brave when I stabbed Bowers? But when you do something brave, it's suddenly not good enough?"

"'Cause we're our own harshest critics," Richie answered immediately, because that was one he knew well. "When I have an okay night on stage, everyone else will be telling me I did fine, but I know it sucked. I know I could have been so much better – delivered the punchlines better and been smoother with some of my deliveries."

"This isn't a comedy act I'm talking about," Eddie argued. "This is real life. But while we're at it, I think going out on stage is pretty brave too, because I'd be having panic attacks up the ass if I had that many people watching me."

"When I start writing my own material, yeah," Richie agreed. "At least before, I could try and tell myself that it partially failed because it was someone else's shitty jokes, and I did the best with what I had."

Eddie let out a heavy breath and said, "Listen to me for a minute, okay? Because I don't know how many more ways I can say it. You are brave. If you want more examples – who killed Bowers with a fucking axe to save Mike?"

Biting his lip, Richie realized that Eddie had turned the tables and was going to make him play along with this just like Richie had done to him in the sewer. "Me," Richie said quietly. "Even though I puked again after-"

Eddie pressed a finger against Richie's lips, silencing him. "That's not what I asked. Stop adding addendums to everything." He paused for a moment to make sure he had Richie's full attention. "Who came out to the rest of the Losers even though you were scared to death of doing so?"

Hesitating just a moment, Richie said, "Me." He desperately tried to contain his protests, but he couldn't. "Even though they were our friends-"

"No arguments," Eddie cut him off. "Just answer the questions." Eddie paused again, and Richie could see him swallowing hard. "Who tried to single-handedly protect me from those assholes we met on the Kissing Bridge?"

Even now, Richie desperately wanted to disagree with Eddie, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because everything Eddie said was true. Richie had been scared to death that day on the Kissing Bridge, but he would have done anything to protect Eddie, even if it meant getting himself hurt in the process.

That was bravery, wasn't it?

"Me," Richie said solemnly.

"And who proposed to me last night even though he was scared to death of the answer?" Eddie asked, his eyes dancing with pride. He held up his left hand, using his thumb to press against his ring, letting the late afternoon sunshine reflect off the opal.

Still, Richie wanted to protest, because in the end, he and Eddie had already talked about marriage, so it wasn't that scary. Even though it was and Richie knew it. He reminded himself of the small freak out he'd had in Ben and Bev's room just mere hours before.

Richie took Eddie's hand in his, rubbing his own thumb across the ring. "Me," Richie said, much more quietly than before.

"Yeah," Eddie said simply. "I'm your fiancé now because you had the courage to ask me. Because you were brave enough to go after what you wanted." Eddie's bottom lip quivered before he added, "Me."

"You," Richie replied. He leaned forward and placed a kiss to the ring on Eddie's finger, a smile overtaking his face as he did so.

When they let their clasped hands fall to hang lazily between them, Eddie asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me you felt like this?"

Richie shrugged, suddenly not even sure if he should have brought it up after all, even though Eddie's reassurances did help a little bit. He muttered a quick, "I don't know," even though he was pretty sure he did. It was because it was easier to downplay his insecurities and pretend like everything was okay. Like he had done for his entire life.

"I wish you'd talk to me more about this," Eddie said, talking a step closer to Richie. "You don't always have to pretend to be the strong one, you know. I…I know I'm a fucking disaster, but I never meant for you to feel like you couldn't put this on me."

"You're not a disaster, and it was never about that," Richie quickly said, because the last thing he wanted was for Eddie to feel like he was even more of a burden. "I just…have an image to maintain, I guess. And it's force of habit by now, too. I told you, I've done nothing but lie about who I am and run from…everything."

"You don't have to do that anymore," Eddie replied. "No more secrets, right? I know there's still certain parts of yourself that will remain hidden from the general public until you're ready to come out, but…this is me." He shook his head, meeting Richie's gaze steadily. "You don't have to hide anything from me, and I don't want you to. If you're having insecurities about anything, please come tell me. It's not just a one-way street. I don't want to be the only one in this relationship that needs a crutch every now and again."

Richie bowed his head, staring long at hard at their hands still gripping each other. "I know," he whispered.

"And Rich?" Eddie asked. "I told you this morning, we're going to get through all of this, okay? I know you're scared about going back to work after this, and coming out publicly, and starting to write your own material, but…we're in this together." He brought their hands up between them, still clasped together. "This ring means something. It's not just for show."

Richie tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, but it remained there, unmoving. In the end, Richie only replied by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips. Just like when they had been in the parking lot at Eddie's doctor's office, Richie knew that anyone could possibly see them, but he still couldn't bring himself to care.

Eddie fisted his free hand in the front of Richie's sweatshirt, pulling him slightly closer as he deepened the kiss. When they broke apart, however, they stood like that, hands gripped tightly around each other, Eddie still holding onto Richie's hoodie, as if for dear life.

After a moment, Richie cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "So, we're a little late for the courthouse, so the divorce filing will have to wait until tomorrow, but did you want to swing by Myra's tonight or not?"

Expelling a sharp breath, it was Eddie's turn to stare down at the ground. "Yeah. Not that I really want to see her, but on the other hand, I want to get this shit show out of the way."

"Okay," Richie replied. "Why don't we get checked in, get something to eat, and you can text her."

"I can't wait," Eddie muttered, stooping down to pick up his smaller suitcase.

"Put that the fuck down!" Richie scolded, immediately reaching to take the suitcase out of Eddie's grip. "The doctor specifically said no heavy lifting!"

"It's not that heavy!"

"Here," Richie said, holding Eddie's toiletry bag out for him instead. "Take this one. It's the lightest."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Rich. I'm not helpless."

"Shut up," Richie said, picking up both of Eddie's suitcases, one in each hand, his own duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. "We're going to have more lifting to do at Myra's, moving all your shit out, and I don't want to hear any arguments. Please let me do this so I don't have to worry about you splitting your scar open again, okay? When you're fully healed and you get the all clear, you can lift heavy shit all you want."

A smile was playing around Eddie's lips as he whispered, "Okay," before following Richie inside.


An hour later, Eddie held a warm cup of coffee in his hands as he directed Richie through the streets towards what used to be his home. Used to be, but wasn't any longer.

"I can't believe you're drinking coffee," Richie said. "You're already nervous enough about seeing Myra again."

"It's comforting," Eddie said absently, squeezing the to-go cup between his fingers, enjoying the warmth of it against his skin. He watched the passing houses out his window, and a moment later, he asked, "Is it weird that nothing's changed?" He looked at Richie before he continued, "I mean, I know I haven't been gone that long in the grand scheme of things, but…it feels longer." Eddie turned to stare out his window again. "So much has changed for me, you know? The neighborhood feels like it should be different too."

"Kind of like Derry," Richie responded, keeping his eyes on the tree-lined street in front of him. "We were gone so long and so much had changed for us, but it's still the same old shitty town it always was."

"And it probably always will be." A few moments later, Eddie gestured towards the intersection up ahead. "Turn right here. It's the one all the way at the end of the block on the right. The blue one."

Eddie watched the falling autumn leaves as they cascaded through the air, the crispy browns, and golds, and oranges fluttering through the air to lay on the street. The sky had darkened considerably since they had arrived in New York, and it now appeared to be threatening rain. There was nothing quite like an autumn thundershower and the smells that the cooling breeze would bring – dying leaves and the impending scent of winter.

If there was one thing Eddie would miss about living in the east, it would be the changing seasons. But the west had Richie, which sort of negated everything else.

"Fuck, Eds," Richie said, pulling Eddie from his reverie as he stopped his car at the curb. "Are you sure you want to leave this?" Richie gestured out Eddie's window at the sprawling yard and sizeable ranch house, from its two-car garage to the now dormant flower beds outlined with stones. "It's nice."

"It was," Eddie replied, staring wistfully out the window at his former home. He sighed and added, "It hasn't been for a long time now." He stared down into his lap, at the new ring on his finger. "So many bad things happened here and…it's just not home anymore."

"Yeah," Richie agreed quietly just before reaching out and taking Eddie's left hand in his. "Maybe I should take this," he said, softly gripping Eddie's ring with his other hand.

"Rich," Eddie protested, pulling back his hand like he'd been burnt. He curled his hand into a fist, pulling it against his chest protectively. He could feel his face pulling into a pout, and he probably looked like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away, but he didn't care. The ring had only been on his finger for about twenty-four hours now, but it was his. He loved the weight of it there, the reminder that it was on his finger, because Richie wanted him and no one else.

"Just for now," Richie explained, his expression softening. "I'll give it back when we leave, because I doubt you want to explain to Myra why you're wearing that rather than your wedding ring." Richie raised his eyebrows, staring at Eddie's ring.

Eddie let out a soft breath, because he knew that Richie was right. As much as he didn't want to relinquish his hold on it, he slowly lowered his hand from his chest and unclenched his fist. "Yeah," he whispered.

As Richie gently removed it from Eddie's finger, he said, "I'll keep it safe, and I'll give it back. Promise."

The ring was too small for Richie's ring finger, so he slipped it onto his pinky where it fit comfortably, and something about seeing it there sent warm tingles up and down Eddie's spine.

"Ready?" Richie asked next, removing his key from the ignition and reaching for his door handle.

"Fuck no," Eddie replied, setting his coffee in the cup holder and opening his own door. "I actually can't believe that Myra didn't come running out the moment we pulled up." He glanced up at the house where there didn't seem to be any sign of movement at all. "She's probably waiting behind the door with a fucking axe."

"Way too much true crime, Eds," Richie said, falling into step beside Eddie as they made their way up the sidewalk. "You did tell her we were coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She said she'd be waiting."

"So um…did you tell her that you were bringing that crass comedian you liked to watch on YouTube?" Richie asked around a grin. "Because I could have so much fun with that."

Eddie snorted as they reached the top of the three steps to the porch. Eddie reached for the doorbell and said, "Again, fuck no. I have no idea if she'll recognize you or not, but if that's what you want to tell her…" He trailed off, waving his arm at Richie.

"Hm," Richie hummed just as they heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. "Maybe it's better if I don't. Especially if we're trying to keep things on the downlow."

Eddie found himself smiling as he heard the lock clicking open in the door. "That's not what you said in the parking lots of the hotel and doctor's office."

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal Myra, and Eddie suddenly wanted to run back to the car and never come back. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed at both Eddie and his companion.

Swallowing hard, Eddie greeted, "Myra."

She stared at him long and hard like she didn't quite recognize him. She looked at his "trashy" clothes with disdain before letting her eyes trail up to his face where her eyes about popped out of her head. "What's with the beard?" she demanded.

"Hello to you too," Eddie snapped indignantly. He brought his left hand up, scratching at his cheek, at the scar that the facial hair now helped to hide. "I'm trying something new," he said with a shrug.

"I don't like it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see Richie scowling at Myra, and Eddie only hoped that Richie wouldn't do anything to escalate the situation; Myra did that well enough on her own.

"This isn't about you, Myra," Eddie said. So much for not escalating the situation. "I decided to try it for myself."

And he had. As much as Richie had insisted to him that no one noticed the scar on his cheek, Eddie didn't feel nearly as self-conscious about it with his beard helping to obscure it. And it felt nice. Normally, he would have never done anything so drastic with his appearance without seeking Myra's advice first, but Richie always made him feel like it was okay to be his own boss. To do things for himself and no one else. And the fact that he didn't feel like he needed Richie's permission for things like this was exhilarating; it made him feel free and like his own person rather than an extension of someone else. An extension of his mother or Myra. With Richie, Eddie never felt that way. With Richie, everything was different. Better.

Myra turned her attention to Richie next, eyeing him up and down just like she had done to Eddie moments before. Her mouth twisted into a scowl, and Eddie knew there were probably about ten things wrong with Richie that bothered her. For starters, she would call his clothes "trashy", and tell him he needed to get a haircut, and do something about his "dirty" stubble.

Even though he would never openly admit it, these were all things that Eddie found endearing about Richie. He loved curling his fingers in Richie's hair and feeling Richie's stubble underneath his fingers. Eddie even loved his poor, misguided fashion sense in a way, because it was purely Richie. Had been, ever since they had been children, and it was nice to know that some things never changed.

"Who are you?" Myra demanded of Richie.

"Dick," Richie said cheerfully. Richie extended his hand to Myra, but she only stared at it skeptically.

Eddie couldn't help the snort that escaped his throat, which earned him a withering stare from Myra.

"I'm Eddie's old friend from home," Richie explained. "I just came to help him collect some of his things."

Myra was still staring at Eddie when she asked, "And that's still your intention?"

Eddie contained the urge to roll his eyes, because of course that was still his intention! He hadn't just randomly shown up at her door for the hell of it!

"Yes, Myra," Eddie said instead, trying his best to rein in his anger.

Myra hesitated a moment before she stepped aside and held the door open for them. She had her free hand on her hip and didn't look the least bit thrilled about this situation, but Eddie and Richie stepped into the living room anyway.

Eddie quickly led the way down the hall towards the master bedroom with Richie trailing along behind him. Eddie was vaguely aware of Richie taking in Eddie's former home, craning his head to look at the knickknacks on the tables and shelves and the pictures lining the walls.

"Dude," Richie whispered, "this looks just like your mom's house. Except nicer."

"Shut up!" Eddie hissed back. All Eddie needed at this point was to incite Myra's anger if she overheard them comparing her to Eddie's mother.

Back in the living room, Eddie could hear Myra closing the front door before her tentative footsteps followed them back to the bedroom.

Once he reached the bedroom, Eddie wasted no time in going over to the closet where he withdrew another large suitcase and a duffle bag that he rarely ever used, because he hated the wrinkles that ended up in his clothes that were in it. He set his bags on the bed before turning to his dresser and carefully starting to remove the remaining clothes there.

"I thought you were vehemently opposed to duffle bags," Richie pointed out, prodding the bag in question.

Eddie glared at him as he set a stack of jeans inside his suitcase. "For clothes, yes, I am. They're much better suited to toiletries and the like, but sometimes you have to make do. You can put my underwear and socks in there."

"Ooh, Eddie underwear," Richie said as he picked up a pair of boxer shorts from a dresser drawer. They were printed with dogs and bones, and he held them up in front of Eddie. "Do you know what this reminds me of?"

"Don't even say it," Eddie said, picking up a stack of t-shirts next and putting those in his suitcase alongside his jeans. "I thought we left that shithole town behind us once and for all."

Richie looked down at the shorts in his hands, a wistful look on his face. "Didn't you ever want to get a dog?"

"Fuck no," Eddie muttered. "Do you have any idea the germs they carry around much less their shit?"

He had gone to his closet and had removed the garment bags he had his suits stored in. He really wished he had a better way to transport them across the country, because they were fucking expensive, but this would have to do.

"Oh, wait, yeah!" Richie exclaimed, shoving a stack of Eddie's boxers into the duffle bag.

Richie was fucking lucky he wasn't balling up anything other than Eddie's underwear in there, or he'd have another thing coming. Thank god Eddie had the sense to not trust him with anything else but underwear.

Richie had apparently been pondering the answer to Eddie's question, because he was actually fucking quiet for once. But then the spell was broken and he said, "Yeah, their shit can have coliform bacteria, right? And it can cause…shit. I mean, actual shit."

"A lot more than that, but yeah," Eddie said quietly. Truth be told, he was shocked as hell that Richie even registered half of the things he said, especially when he was rambling on about…shit. It kind of made Eddie feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"You have some awfully stylish underwear in here," Richie said, continuing to poke around in Eddie's underwear drawer. He withdrew a pair with teddy bears on them next and said, "And you make fun of my fashion sense."

"Just fucking pack them."

"Will you wear these for me sometime?"

"Shut up."

Eddie was still aware of the fact that Myra was in the house somewhere, and it unnerved him that she hadn't decided to join them yet. Was she just outside the bedroom door, listening to them? What if she somehow figured out that he and Richie were together just from their banter? Or would she just write it off as two childhood friends ribbing each other?

Richie only grinned at him as the threw the remainder of Eddie's socks and underwear into the duffle bag. Then he picked up the stacks of garments bags filled with Eddie's suits that he had laid out. Richie carefully held them across his arms and asked, "Do you want me to take these to the car?"

"Please?" Eddie asked. "Can you lay them across the backseat? I think that's the best place for them, although I really wish we had somewhere to hang them."

"I'll get them there in once piece," Richie said, heading for the door to the bedroom. "Promise."

"Be careful with them!" Eddie called after him. "They're expensive!"

There was a moment of silence as Richie made his way down the hall, but then he turned back towards the bedroom and shouted, "So you don't want them bunched up on the floor of the car is what you're saying."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie said, then he had to bite his tongue to keep from using Richie's name. He reminded himself that Myra only knew him as 'Dick' and Eddie couldn't quite bring himself to call Richie by that name (even though that was exactly what he was).

It was then Eddie became aware of the fact that Myra was now hovering in the door to the bedroom. Her arms were crossed over her chest and it looked like she had been crying; her eyes were swollen and red.

"I thought this was going to be an opportunity for us to talk," she said quietly. "Instead, you bring this loudmouth friend of yours that you know I won't like."

Eddie closed his eyes against the surge of anger that coursed through him. Almost always the same sort of reaction that Myra seemed to force out of him. "For the last time, Myra, it has absolutely nothing to do with you," he said as calmly as he could. "He's my friend and he's here to help me. You don't have to like him." He stiltedly shoved some sweatshirts into his suitcase, not even bothering to look at her.

"So that's it then," she said. Out of her corner of his eye, Eddie could tell she was staring down at his bags on the bed. "You're just going to pack your bags and leave like I mean nothing to you."

This finally managed to get Eddie's attention and he looked up at her, but then he wished he hadn't. Tears were streaming down her face and she was staring at him like she couldn't believe Eddie could do this to her. And this was why he had stayed with her for so long. This was why he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave despite how very miserable he had been. One look at her like this had been enough to crumble his resolve and force himself to stay with her to keep her happy. At least until he met Richie.

"I can't…" Eddie began, but then he stopped short. He wrung the sweatshirt he had in his hands as he adjusted his answer. He took a deep breath before he began again. "I honestly don't know what you want me to say."

"Say you love me and that you'll stay so we can try and work things out." When Eddie chanced a look up at her, her eyes were large and pleading.

Eddie couldn't bear to look at them any longer, so he closed his eyes and hung his head. "You know that's not what I'm doing here," he said simply, now compulsively attempting to flatten out the wrinkles in the sweatshirt he was currently holding.

"I love you," Myra whispered.

This caused Eddie to look up at her again, taken aback. It wasn't something he had heard from her very often, especially not in the most recent years of their marriage. Even when she always made him say it to her, he honestly couldn't remember the last time she had reciprocated. That was what their marriage had become – nothing more than Eddie performing like a fucking puppet when Myra pulled the strings.

"Maybe I'm not very good at saying it, but I do," she said.

Eddie didn't think Myra was very good at showing it either. Her idea of showing him love was to smother him and control him, just like his mother had done. Only now was Eddie realizing just how fucked up that was, especially since Richie was now opening his eyes to what healthy love was really about.

"You can't say it back though, can you?" Myra asked.

Eddie didn't reply right away, but took a moment to place his now smoothed-out sweatshirt in his suitcase along with the others. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Did you ever?"

Letting out a quiet sigh, Eddie desperately wished that he could give her an affirmative answer. Now that she was standing before him instead of screaming at him over the phone, he found himself wanting to spare her feelings like he usually did. Their marriage hadn't worked out, but that still didn't give him free rein to hurt her like he maybe wanted to sometimes. In the end, however, he couldn't lie to her.

When Eddie let silence pass for far too long, it was the only answer Myra needed. The frown on her face deepened, and Eddie thought he saw her bottom lip quiver.

"That isn't fair to you, I know," Eddie conceded. "Marrying you when I didn't was wrong. Don't think I haven't thought about that. And for me to come here with little to no explanation just to clear out my things – it's shitty. Really shitty." Eddie hung his head again, because he knew he was right. The way he and Richie had barged in here with absolutely no consideration for Myra's feelings was an awful thing to do to her. "I just can't even begin to explain to you what's happened to me since I've been gone and how much I've changed as a result. I'm not even going to try, because I don't think I can. Suffice it to say, I'm a much different person than you knew."

"You are," Myra agreed. Eddie could see her swallowing as she took a few steps closer to him. "You…you said you're happy."

For a moment, Eddie didn't want to tell her the truth. Didn't want her to think that he had truly found happiness once he had had left her. Still, she already knew the answer, and so did he.

"I am," he replied. He hesitated for a while before he added, "Happier than I've ever been."

Myra walked past him, beginning to pace the room, appearing deep in thought. Eddie watched her go, fascinated, because he wasn't sure if he had ever seen her so very contemplative during their entire marriage. At least, not where he was concerned.

When she finally stopped and turned to face him, she said, "I've been thinking. You've told me that more than once already – that you're happy – and I didn't quite want to believe it at first. I almost wanted to think you were lying, because how could you be that happy having just left me?"

"I'm not lying, Myra."

"I know," she said, nodding. "I see it now. It's hard to hide it when we're that happy, isn't it? And it's been a long time since I've seen you like this."

Eddie blinked, because he wasn't even aware he had been acting any differently than he normally did. Was it really just exuding from him like she was sort of implying it was? Perhaps, because Eddie had never felt like he did just then, with Richie wanting to marry him and have a life with him. It had almost grown to consume his entire being, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that other people could pick up on it too.

"I'm not an idiot, you know," Myra said in response, probably due to the expression on his face.

"I never said you were."

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

It took Eddie a moment to realize exactly what Myra had said. Never in a million years had he been expecting that, and it almost made him feel like he wasn't in his body any longer. His feet didn't even feel like they were touching the floor. His very first reaction was to deny it, but that wouldn't be fair to Myra and that wouldn't be fair to Richie. Eddie's breathing had grown heavy and he felt tears prickling at his eyes, because perhaps Myra had known him better than he ever gave her credit for.

He nodded slowly and whispered, "Yeah."

Despite the topic of conversation, Myra was smiling. It was small, demurely playing around the very corners of her lips, but it was there. "So you were being honest with me when you said there wasn't a 'she'."

"Yeah," Eddie said again. "Please believe me when I say that I was never trying to hurt you. It just…it happened." Eddie let out a soft breath, because he was in awe that he was even having this conversation with Myra. A part of him wondered if he'd wake up soon and find out that it had all been a dream. But then Eddie frowned, because what he'd said hadn't been the entire truth. "Well…it actually happened a long time before I even met you."

"Highschool sweethearts?"

Eddie laughed out loud, because this might have been the most absurd conversation he'd ever had in his life. And because nothing could be further from the truth. "Hardly," Eddie replied. "We were too dumb to admit it back then. And I'm sorry for that, because if we had, I wouldn't be hurting you like this now."

Myra stepped forward, and she raised her arms like she was going to hug him, but then she decided against it. She lowered her arms back down to her sides before she said, "Eddie, I wasn't lying when I said I love you. I know you probably doubted that a lot over the years, but it's true."

Eddie contained the urge to protest. He wanted to tell her that he never doubted her, but he supposed 'no more secrets' was no longer just a thing with Richie anymore. He let her speak instead.

"When you love someone," she said, "you want them to be happy, regardless of whether that's with you or not." She stopped, inhaling a sharp breath. Eddie thought she was about to start crying again, but she pressed her lips together, as if steeling herself. "I wish things could be different. I wish those feelings were directed at me instead, and I might always feel that way. I'm not sure. But if he's what's making you happy…" She trailed off, gesturing towards the door of the bedroom.

Eddie's eyes flickered towards the door then, searching for Richie, but he was nowhere to be found. Eddie could see all the way down the hall and to the front door, but Richie wasn't there. He couldn't quite see the car from his vantage point, but maybe Richie had decided to sit in the car for a while to give them some privacy.

"He is," Eddie said simply.

Myra only nodded. She bit at her bottom lip for a moment and then said, "I had every intention of fighting you tooth and nail on this. I still wish it didn't have to be this way, but if it's what you want – if he's what you want – I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to make you any more miserable than I already have."

"Myra," Eddie sighed, "it wasn't you. I just suck at making good decisions for myself." Just then, however, Eddie realized what he had said. "Not that marrying you was a bad decision-"

"Yes, it was," she interrupted. "You're not supposed to marry people you don't love."

Eddie could only shake his head, still utterly stunned that he had let this get that far to begin with – that he had done something as horrible as marry someone he didn't love. And that he was having this conversation with Myra in the first place. Eddie suppressed the urge to pinch himself and said, "I'm sorry."

"Just don't make that same mistake again, okay?"

"I won't."

Myra stepped away from him, sniffling quietly. She took a moment to compose herself before she looked around the room. She motioned towards the bookshelf on the far wall and asked, "Did you want to take some of your books? They're hardly my type of reading material."

Myra ended up helping Eddie pack some of his books in relative silence, but it wasn't awkward like it normally was. It was almost amicable in a way that hadn't been true for most of their marriage.

So why did Eddie feel like shit?


Eddie was completely silent as Richie drove them back to their hotel. Eddie wouldn't even meet his eyes, instead staring out his window at the trees, houses, and cars as they passed by. He had his elbow on his door's armrest, his fist up just under his chin, and if Richie wasn't mistaken, there were tears intermittently escaping from his eyes.

Eddie's engagement ring was still on Richie's pinky finger, and Richie kept rubbing it with his thumb as he drove. Eddie hadn't asked for it back yet, and so Richie had kept it and hadn't brought it up.

At some point while they had been packing Eddie up, the skies had finally opened. Large raindrops were lazily falling from the sky, splattering across the windows as they made their way along the streets. The leaves that had fallen were now a soggy mess, laying in saturated clumps on the roads. If there was one thing Richie hated about autumn, it was fucking wet leaves. They were supposed to be crisp and crunchy, not sopping and limp.

Richie wasn't even sure why he was thinking about the damn leaves so much, except to distract himself from Eddie's current state.

They were back in their hotel room, Richie closing the door with a click, before he broke the awkward silence that had taken hold between them.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Richie asked him, letting his keys drop to the dresser.

Eddie wasn't facing him. Instead, he stood with his hands on his hips, staring out the sliding glass door which led to the balcony beyond. It was still raining, the sky almost black beyond, nearly blending into the wrought iron fence that marked the edge of the balcony.

"Do you think I'm a shitty husband?" Eddie finally asked without looking at him.

"What?" Richie asked, stepping a little closer to him. He still kept some semblance of distance though, not even remotely close enough to touch him. "No, I don't."

Eddie scoffed. "I married a woman I didn't love and now I fucking broke her heart." He turned to face Richie and said, "That's shitty. Don't even try to tell me that it isn't."

"She has a heart?" Richie asked in an attempt to break tension between them, but if anything, it only made things worse.

Eddie closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't. I know we've done nothing but talk shit about her this entire time, but…don't."

"Sorry," Richie sighed, because he had known before he had said it that it had been the wrong thing to say. He took a step closer, still out of arm's reach before he said, "But do I think you're a bad husband? No, I don't."

"How can you say that?" Eddie asked incredulously. "How can you still want to marry me after the mess I've made with Myra?"

"Eddie," Richie said, finally stepping close enough to Eddie to touch him. He laid his hands on his shoulders firmly, but Eddie wasn't having it.

Eddie roughly shook his shoulders, pulling out of Richie's grasp so forcefully, it almost startled Richie. Richie took a step backwards, watching as Eddie shook his head wildly.

"Don't," Eddie said again, even though Richie wasn't quite sure what Eddie was telling him not to do. Touch him, maybe? Try and convince Eddie that he wasn't the shitty person he thought he was?

It looked like Eddie was going to say something more, but he only shook his head again. He turned away from Richie, reaching for the sliding glass door to the balcony and wrenching it open. Stepping out onto the balcony, Eddie slammed the door shut before plopping down onto the green plastic chair outside. He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands.

Richie desperately wanted to go to him, to wrap his arms around Eddie and assure him that this was still what he wanted. But he didn't. He stood rooted to his spot, knowing that Eddie needed some time right now to cool down and process everything that had happened with Myra.

But just twenty-four hours ago, Eddie had accepted Richie's marriage proposal without so much as a hint of trepidation. Now, Richie stared down at the ring on his pinky finger, using his other hand to turn the band around. When he had taken the ring back from Eddie just a few hours previously, he'd had no inkling that that might be permanent.

Maybe Richie had made a mistake in proposing to Eddie so soon, and perhaps Eddie had made a mistake in accepting it. They probably should have waited and sorted things out before throwing themselves into a fucking engagement like it would magically solve everything.

It was the second time in Richie's life where he had actively pursued something he wanted (the first being his career), and now Richie knew why he always chose to run away instead.

Because sometimes, it was easier.

To be continued…

Author's note: I had absolutely no idea that this chapter would turn out this way, but Myra ended up surprising me.

Anyway, time for a state of the story address! So I actually seriously considered including the next section and making that the end of the story (but don't be alarmed, because there's still tons of the story to tell, and I'm nowhere near done). The story up until this point has mostly been about Eddie – healing from his injuries, and learning to stand up for himself, and be his own person. The second half of this story is mostly going to be Richie's journey – getting back into his career, publicly coming out, and learning how to fully be himself. This could have been the perfect halfway point to divide this into two separate stories, but in the end, I had always intended for it to be a single story. Richie and Eddie are a team now, and the story felt incomplete to leave so many things hanging for Richie. So this will continue as a single story, and yes, this is seriously about the halfway point, so there's plenty more to come! If you're still here, thank you so much for sticking with me. I've always known where this story is going, but I had no idea when I started this that it would ultimately be this long, but I'm loving every minute of it. I hope you are too!