Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Stephen King, Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga and Gary Dauberman, and various publishers including, but not limited to, Viking Press, New Line Cinema, RatPac-Dune Entertainment, KatzSmith Productions, Lin Pictures, Double Dream, Rideback, Vertigo Entertainment, Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's note: This little gem was born from Brave, my novel-length Reddie romance where adult Eddie is fretting about leaving Derry after defeating It for the second time and forgetting about Richie all over again. He asks Bill, "Can you imagine waking up and seeing a stranger in your bed?" I already had Eddie in the hospital in that story, so I decided to turn the tables and put Richie there instead. And then my muse went completely wild and…we have this. (Not sorry.) I really don't need another novel-length story to work on, but my…muse made me? Seriously, I can't get this out of my head, so I needed to do something with it, and I wanted to work on something a bit more dramatic than Brave is.
This takes place a year and a half after the events of Chapter Two. Eddie escaped from Pennywise unharmed and he and Richie admitted their feelings for each other soon after. Eddie divorced Myra and married Richie a year later, and they are now living happily ever after in LA…until I decided to ruin it for them. Everything else from the movie remains the same, including Stan being dead (I'm sorry). I have no idea how long this will be (because I never do), but pretty long, I imagine. I hope you guys enjoy it!
The Space Between Us
Chapter 1 – Darkness
In hindsight, Eddie knew that he would never forget the very last morning he spent with Richie as his husband – the very last time they made love. It was burned into Eddie's memory like an etching into wood, and it was the very last thing he had to hold onto before his life with Richie was completely pulled out from under him.
Before he lost everything.
Eddie didn't look at the clock when he awoke to Richie's warm breath on the back of his neck, but he knew it was early; the very first splinters of sunlight were just beginning to pierce the Los Angeles sky, so it was probably just before seven o'clock or so. Eddie didn't have to be at work until ten o'clock that morning, so he still had a bit of time to get frisky with Richie, and if his husband's actions were anything to go by, that was exactly what Richie was hinting at.
Richie tightened his arm around Eddie's waist from behind, pulling him closer and trailing soft kisses between his shoulder blades.
"Mm," Eddie mumbled sleepily, finding Richie's hand and entwining their fingers together.
"You sure you have to go work this morning?" Richie asked in between kisses.
"Unfortunately," Eddie sighed. "There's a meeting I can't miss, and I really need to get those reports started for that new client my boss is bringing on."
"Amazing," Richie said. "You come all the way to fucking LA, insisting you're going to change up your life, and you end up doing the same exact boring thing you were doing back in New York."
Eddie jerked backwards, slightly pushing Richie away in frustration. Richie, however, only tightened the hold he had on Eddie, squeezing him even more tightly.
"I have changed up my life, asshole!" Eddie muttered, making no effort to push Richie away again. Richie's chest was up against his back, their bare skin pressed together. Richie's knees slotted in behind Eddie's comfortably, and Eddie always felt so warm and safe when they laid like this. "I divorced Myra, I moved to LA, and I married you! Believe me, nothing says 'I changed up my life' quite like marrying Trashmouth Tozier. I just…like what I do, and I'm good at it."
"You're good at a lot of things," Richie told him, going back to laying kisses along his spine.
As Richie dipped lower and lower down his back, Eddie shivered in pleasure. He pushed his hips back in an effort to feel more of Richie, and he immediately felt Richie's growing interest straining through the layers of their underwear. Richie thrust forward gently and Eddie moaned at the sensation.
"We have a little time before you have to go in," Richie murmured, still kissing along Eddie's spine. "Want me to show you some of the things you're good at?"
Eddie groaned, because Richie always knew exactly the right things to get Eddie's attention. Rolling over onto his back, Eddie immediately sought out Richie's lips in a kiss. Richie met them, moving to cover Eddie's body with his.
"Fuck yeah," Eddie whispered, letting his head fall back against the pillow as Richie started exploring Eddie's neck with his lips.
Richie pulled away and smiled down at Eddie. Even in the dimness of their bedroom, Eddie could see the faint glimmer in his husband's eyes and knew that Richie was getting all sappy again.
"I love you," Richie said, his voice quivering just the slightest bit with emotion. He rubbed his fingers gently over Eddie's cheeks, over the faint scar that still lined the left side of his face.
Eddie had been about to make a joke, but the tone in Richie's voice stopped him. He knew Richie wouldn't take offense to being teased for getting all emotional, but sometimes, it was nice to just let him. To get lost in the emotions that rippled through them, reveling in the fact that they had gotten this happy ending at all. Because all too easily, it could have been ripped out of their grasp forever. All too easily, one or both of them could have died, or not had the courage to admit their feelings at all. So many variables existed that could have doomed their relationship before it even went anywhere.
"I love you," Eddie said, wrapping his own hands around Richie's neck and pulling him down for another kiss, closing the space between them.
The space between them, though, Eddie was pretty sure didn't even exist anymore, because so much of him was Richie. So much of him was this big, strong, amazing man who was still staring down at Eddie like he was the most amazing thing he had ever laid eyes on. Eddie tightened his grip around the back of Richie's neck, wanting desperately for Richie to know how he felt. That they weren't two people anymore; they were one, because Eddie had never felt so completely intertwined and wrapped up with another human being in his life.
Richie kissed lazily at Eddie's jaw. "Are you sure you have to go to work today?" Richie whined.
"Yeah, already told you," Eddie sighed. "I would get out of it if could."
"We could have so much more fun here."
"Mm," Eddie hummed. "Tomorrow's Saturday though. If that's something you're interested in exploring…" He trailed off, grinning up at Richie.
"Is that a promise?"
"You have no idea," Eddie said, sprinkling kisses against Richie's lips.
"Tomorrow," Richie said, firmly planting his lips over Eddie's and kissing him deeply.
In hindsight, Eddie was thankful for the last time they had made love, for the way Richie had held him as they did so, for the way Richie had looked at him, before their entire world was about to be turned upside down. Because in the end, tomorrow would never come.
It was just getting dark when Richie's phone lit up with Eddie's name, like a beacon in the steadily growing darkness. Richie had been typing away on his laptop, absurd amounts of inspiration coursing through him after Eddie had left for work. Richie had completed nearly five thousand words of his next project, because amazing sex with Eddie apparently good for his muse. Who knew?
Richie wasn't even sure what this 'project' was, but his manager was just happy he was working again. After such a long break following the fact that he had nearly fallen apart on stage, and the fact that he had pretty much disappeared altogether left many wondering about his state of mind. There had been rumors about Richie going on a drunken and/or drug-induced bender, but those had been greatly exaggerated. Or perhaps not exaggerated enough, because it was really just due to a fucking space clown. And realizing that the love of his life shared in his feelings.
Richie's life had been a whirlwind since then – coming out, and working it into his show, and moving Eddie to LA while he got his divorce moving, and finally settling into some semblance of normal life now that they were married. Things were calming down now, and maybe that was conducive to Richie's inspiration too. He wasn't sure.
Either way, his manager was excited to read whatever it was that Richie was working on, and he said they'd figure out what to do with it afterwards. Shop it around as a special maybe, or perhaps work it into another stand-up routine. Richie was fucking thrilled at the freedom he felt when left to work on what he wanted, on his own material, and he was just as excited to see what came out of it.
"Spaghetti!" Richie said as he accepted the call from Eddie.
"I was just calling to see what you wanted for dinner," Eddie grumbled, "so if that's your answer…" He trailed off.
"Hm," Richie hummed in thought. "Are you getting takeout?"
"Yeah," Eddie said. "Sorry it's so fucking late. I got to working on those reports and-"
"You lost track of time in the exciting world of risk analysis," Richie concluded, nodding. "I know. I actually lost track of time myself. Working on some good material here."
"Okay, first of all, fuck you," Eddie spat out. "Second of all, that's great! I know how much more accomplished you feel when you're working."
"Yeah," Richie sighed happily. "I don't know what it's going to be yet, but it's something."
"I'm happy for you."
"All due to you, Eds."
"Me? The fuck did I do?"
Richie thought he could hear the soft beep of a car alarm being turned off on the other end of the line and a moment later, a car door slammed. Richie could imagine Eddie crawling into his car after a long day, leaning back against the seat in a brief moment of relaxation.
"You're my inspiration," Richie said, grinning. "It seems to strike me after we have really good sex."
Eddie didn't say anything right away, but when he did, Richie could tell he was smiling. "It was really that good, huh?"
Richie scoffed, because that might have been the stupidest question Eddie had ever asked him. "Earth-shattering is more like it."
"And we're on for tomorrow, right?" Eddie asked. "See if we can outdo it?"
"I don't know if that's possible, Eds, but I definitely want to try. Because it'll be a hell of a lot of fun either way."
Eddie giggled on the other end and said, "So dinner…? I'm leaving work now."
"Um," Richie hummed, then he huffed out a breath of laughter. "Mexican, because maybe it'll help spice shit up for tomorrow."
Eddie snorted. "Like we need any help with that. Any spicier and we'd be on fire."
"That's the next step."
"Should I pick up a fire extinguisher too?"
"Just my usual burritos. And yourself. I'll take care of the rest."
"And antacids if we're planning on having sex tomorrow."
"Have those already, my dear Spagheds."
"Oh yes," Eddie said dryly, "because you're so full of hot air."
Richie laid a hand over his chest and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, even though Eddie couldn't see it. He swiveled back and forth in his chair, reveling in how fucking perfect he and Eddie were together. How perfectly they fit together and completed each other. How easily their banter rolled off of each other.
"Ouch," Richie complained. "You keep that up, I'm going to take tomorrow's offer for sex off the table."
Eddie snorted loudly into the phone. "No, you won't. You'll make it until about noon before you give in, because you're so 'sexually frustrated'."
"I was a sexually repressed gay guy for my entire life!" Richie cried. "Now that I have a husband who's just as sexually frustrated, fuck yeah, I am."
"I'm not sexually frustrated."
"Because you and Myra had such a fulfilling sex life."
"Fuck off."
"So you'll be home in about a half an hour, forty minutes?"
"Yeah, depending on the line at the restaurant and the traffic," Eddie said, "but it shouldn't be too bad. I just missed rush hour."
"Okay," Richie said. "Want to Netflix and chill then after we eat?"
"That sounds fucking amazing. Just what I need after a day of boring reports."
"You love them, and you know it."
"I love you."
"I love you, Eds," Richie replied warmly, his heart clenching at Eddie's words. "I'm going to do some more writing before you get here, because I'm on a roll."
"Okay. See you then."
"I'll be waiting."
Richie set his phone back down on his desk, smiling down at it happily until the light faded from the screen. Richie turned his attention back to his laptop then, only pausing for a moment before his fingers took off in a flurry of inspiration again.
He had ended up losing track of time again, completing nearly another thousand words on his project, until a noise broke him out of his thoughts. Richie hadn't quite registered it, but a quick glance at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen told him that Eddie should be arriving home.
Richie pushed his chair back from the desk and made his way out from the second bedroom that he used as an office and Eddie used as a home gym. Richie stretched as he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen, almost expecting to see Eddie placing a takeout bag down on the island counter. But no one was there. And an eerie silence met his ears.
"Eds?" Richie called, listening for any sign that Eddie was home – the soft beep of his car alarm, the turning of his key in the lock, the opening of the door.
Richie frowned, not quite sure what he had heard earlier now. He had been far too deep in his work to fully process it, but he was pretty sure it had been the front door slamming. Hadn't it?
"Eds?" Richie asked again, but still no answer came.
Swallowing hard, Richie continued down the hall. He looked to his left at the living room, completely still and empty, except for the twinkling lights of the city and the moving cars beyond the windows. He glanced to his right next, at the darkened den that had basically become a library for their ridiculously out-of-hand collection of books, video games, and movies.
Richie continued onto the front door, and that was when he saw it – the front door stood slightly ajar. At first, Richie didn't think anything of it. Eddie had just come in and hadn't closed it all the way. Or maybe he had forgotten something in the car and had run back out to get it. Yeah, that was where Eddie was. Richie stepped forward and reached out for the front door, fully intending to peek out at the driveway to see if Eddie's Cadillac was there, but he didn't quite get that far.
It was then that he noticed that the deadbolt on the front door didn't look quite right. It was in the locked position, even though the door was open, and was that a bit of missing paint from the edge of the door? A glance at the doorframe confirmed his suspicions, because a large piece of wood was missing there too.
Richie swallowed down his fear, his eyes quickly going to the den and then back to the living room, searching for any sign of movement. Richie's hand then went down to his pocket, reaching for his phone, but then he realized that he had left it sitting on the desk in his bedroom.
"Shit," Richie muttered under his breath. He turned around and scrambled for the kitchen, fully intending on finding a good, sharp knife to defend himself with should it come to that, but his path to the kitchen was blocked.
A man stood before him dressed head to toe in black. He had a black baseball cap on as well, with a white LA Dodgers logo on the front. His black hoodie was pulled up around it, the strings tied tightly around his face. But Richie still got a good look at him – dark eyes, brown hair peeking out from underneath his hat, a full beard that was obscuring most of the rest of his face, and a nose that begged for apocalypse.
"Damn, man," Richie spurted out, because he was the Trashmouth, and it was what he did, especially when he was scared shitless. "Who beat you with an ugly stick?"
The man drew back for a moment, but only for a moment. His eyes narrowed at Richie as he asked, "Is anyone else here?"
Richie frantically shook his head, wishing he could find words, but none came. Oh shit. Had this man heard him calling for Eddie? Was he waiting until Eddie came home so that he could kill two birds with one stone? Oh god, Eddie.
"There's…um, money in my wallet by the door," Richie finally stammered out. "You can have whatever's in it."
The man in front of him laughed, a deep and ugly sound, like he only found enjoyment in others' suffering. "We didn't come here for wallet money."
We. This made Richie's heart jump up into his throat, because there was more than one person here. Richie started to turn around, trying to see where this other person was, but then he spotted the door out of the corner of his eye. Could he make it there and run for it before these guys could catch him?
Richie, however, didn't have the chance to find out, because a moment later, someone had grabbed him from behind. Someone larger, and taller, and stronger than him had grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him with so much force, Richie could only muster a groan in response.
Richie was forcefully turned around to face the man who was still standing in the pathway to the kitchen. Trying to swallow down the lump that was burning in his throat now, Richie said, "Take whatever you want. I don't care. I…I'd offer you my Mustang, but it's in the shop."
"Now, see," the man before him said, taking a few steps closer to Richie, "that's false advertising. When both cars are gone, that typically means no one's home."
There was definitely no one home somewhere, but Richie clamped his mouth closed. He had already insulted this man once, and he was probably already pushing his luck. And oh shit, this man knew that there were typically two cars in the driveway, so what else did he know? Did he also know exactly whose house this was and was he there for a specific purpose?
"I told you, take whatever you want," Richie said frantically. "I won't stop you. I don't…really have anything nice, but…if you want it, you can have it." Richie paused, not sure if that was a good thing to tell these men or not. "There's a Blu-ray player, and a PS4 - are those even a thing anymore? Isn't the PS5 out now?" When Richie didn't get a response, he added, "And there's two TVs, and…and…"
Richie trailed off, because he had been about to offer up his laptop, but quickly decided against it. His fucking work was on there, and goddamn these men if they thought they could have that. It wasn't even that special of a laptop, already two years old, but it got the job done, so Richie was pretty sure they wouldn't want it anyway.
Really, he and Eddie had never been that interested in extravagant things. The only possessions they had spent a good amount of money on were their cars and their house, and they liked it that way. The only other thing that Richie could think of that had any value was the platinum and diamond wedding band that sat on his ring finger. Oh shit, Richie thought, because they could have absolutely anything, but he didn't want them to take his wedding ring. Richie knew that his life might very well be lying on the line here, but they couldn't have his wedding ring that symbolized his union with Eddie. They couldn't!
Richie knew it was dumb, knew it was just a ring, but he curled his left hand into a fist behind his back where the unseen man was holding them firm. He tried to hide the ring with his thumb, hoping that neither of these men could see it. Because his and Eddie's rings were sacred, and they belonged to them. No one else.
"But you've seen me now," the man before him said. "That's a problem."
Richie found himself shaking his head again, squeaking out a nervous reply. When he realized he ended up sounding like a fucking mouse, and the man in front of him looked rather amused, Richie cleared his throat. "I won't…tell anyone," Richie promised. "Take whatever you want and…and you can leave. I've already forgotten what you look like."
"Now why don't I believe you?" the man asked.
"It's the truth," Richie gasped out. "I've…I've never been good with faces. I have…trouble remembering my own sometimes, and that's probably a good thing." Richie tried to force a laugh next, but he didn't know if he was successful or not.
"It's a shame that you made a comment about mine then," the man with brown hair said, searching Richie's face. "I feel like you've already committed it to memory."
"N-no," Richie muttered. "I won't even say anything. I won't call the police or an-anything." Richie wished he could get the shaking in his voice under control, but it was now quivering so much, he realized it was a lost cause. He was scared to death, and there was no way he was going to get these guys to believe otherwise. Again, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
Richie thought about Bill, about the fact that he would make a joke about Richie not even being able to spit his words out now. But then in the end, Richie wasn't so sure that Bill would feel that way at all, because Bill would probably be scared to death for him.
Richie's thoughts went to Eddie next, about how his husband was still on his way home. A tiny part of Richie hoped that he would get to see Eddie one last time before he died, because he wasn't sure any longer that he was going to make it out of this, but no. In the end, Richie hoped that Eddie stayed far away, at least until these assholes were gone. Eddie, the love of his life, needed to be okay, and Richie was pretty sure he wouldn't be if he showed up now.
"There's only one way to be sure you won't say anything though," the man in front of him asked, "isn't there?"
Richie had known long before those words were spoken that he was doomed, but the man's words made a feeling like a brick settle into the middle of his chest. Richie's only thought now was Eddie – his sweet, perfect Eddie coming home to find Richie dead and bleeding in the hallway of their home together.
Eddie had already been through so much, and what kind of effect would losing his husband of just six months have on him? He had been so fucked up before (in fact, they all had), and Eddie was only now beginning to move forward from the shit that both his mother and Myra had caused. Eddie was happier than Richie had ever seen him before, and Richie shuddered to think about the emotional fallout he would be consumed with if his husband was fucking murdered.
Eddie.
At least Richie had told Eddie he loved him one last time. Thank god Eddie had called so that Richie could do that much. Could leave Eddie with that one last token to remind him that he was loved. That Richie loved him so fucking much, it overwhelmed him sometimes.
Richie also reminded himself that he and Eddie had gotten to make love to each other one last time that very morning. That it had turned into an unbelievable and emotional connection between them that they had been sure they would be chasing for the rest of their lives. At least Eddie had that much too.
Eddie knew. Eddie knew he was loved. Richie desperately wished that he could leave his husband with more, but this was the best Richie could do.
"I asked you a question!" the brown-haired man snapped, grabbing the front of Richie's shirt and shaking him.
Richie was suddenly fucking furious, because he was thinking about his husband. He was thinking of Eddie, and nothing was more important to him than that. These men were going to kill Richie – he had absolutely no doubt of that now – and he wanted his last thoughts to be of Eddie. Not these assholes.
"Fuck you," Richie said, and that was probably a stupid thing to say, but he didn't care. He was through trying to cooperate with these men. He had already offered them (almost) everything in his house and promised that he wouldn't say a thing to anybody, and it still wasn't enough.
He was still going to die, and he wanted these men to know exactly what he thought of them.
In fact, fuck cooperating with these men at all, because what difference would it make? Richie could either surrender, and lie down, and die, or he could fucking fight. He could fucking fight for his life just like they had done with Pennywise. Twice. Really, what match were these two men against a fucking space clown? These men would probably run away with their tails between their legs if they saw that fucking thing.
"Seriously," Richie bit out, "fuck you."
Richie suddenly dug down deep and found that strength and bravery that had gotten him through his encounters with Pennywise. That had resulted in him and Eddie confessing their love for each other, and their now very satisfying sex life.
Richie pulled forward with every single ounce of his being, desperately trying to break the grasp that the man had around his arms. Richie didn't quite succeed in fully freeing himself, but had managed to free one of his hands. He pulled it away and twisted around in the man's death grip, swinging out his free hand in an attempt to hit one of them.
Richie felt his hand connect with the brown-haired man somewhere – he wasn't entirely sure if it was in his face or maybe his chest – before Richie caught one quick glance of the other man. He was a bit heavier, stockier, and shorted than his companion, but he was wearing the same dark clothes. This man's hair was darker, almost black, and Richie scrambled to remember anything striking about him, but he couldn't quite do it. Couldn't quite get his brain to cooperate with him in its current state of panic.
The brown-haired man was tugging at him now, and Richie almost lost his footing. The world around him blurred as he was shoved backwards again. Again, Richie tried to twist out of the grip the heavier man had on him, but it was useless; the man had realized his mistake in allowing Richie to free one arm, and he certainly wasn't going to let it happen again.
The man behind Richie shoved him hard in the back, effectively knocking all the air from his lungs. Richie stumbled forward a bit and bent over, struggling to gasp for air. But then one of the men – Richie wasn't sure who anymore – hit him squarely in the back of the head. He wasn't sure if the man hit him with a fist or a weapon, but either way, it made black stars dance across his field of vision for a brief moment.
When was sure he wasn't going to pass out, Richie tried sucking in another breath of air. It rushed into his lungs in a loud wheeze, and he twisted in the man's grasp once again. Then, just as Richie had regained his footing and was nearly standing upright, he felt another shove in his back. Richie lurched forward, his free hand flying out to try and grab anything, but his fingers only reached for air.
He was falling forward, he realized, the ground rushing up to meet him. Only he never made it to the ground. Something very hard connected with his head with excruciating force. Richie opened his mouth in a silent scream of pain, and those black stars were dancing in front of his eyes again. His head exploded in agony, pain throbbing through his brain like a dam had broken loose.
Richie tried his best to find his footing, to try and get his feet underneath him before he met the floor, but it was no use. His limbs suddenly felt like they were heavy with cement, weighing him down, and almost making him wish for sleep. Or death. Even so, Richie strained to keep his eyes open, and the very last thing he saw was his and Eddie's wedding picture hanging in their hallway. Richie with his shit-eating grin and Eddie with his slightly demurer, but no less happy smile. Eddie with his head resting on Richie's shoulder looking like he was the luckiest man on the face of the earth.
The floor was still rushing up to meet him, almost like he was falling in slow motion, and then everything went black.
To be continued…
Author's note: I was almost going to have Richie get shot, but I decided probably nobody wants that right now, so I decided on a bump on the head instead. It still works for what I want to do. :D