Author's note: Considering the fact that the last chapter took so long, I thought you guys deserved another quick update. The idea for this chapter came so naturally after the last one, so I didn't have to spend very much time plotting it at all. This is one of my favorite chapters in this story so far, and the good stuff is only getting started. I hope you enjoy it too!

The Space Between Us
Chapter 10 – Three Little Words

Richie waited until Eddie left him alone before he opened his eyes and turned over onto his side. He sighed heavily and stared out the window at the steadily darkening sky beyond. Despite the fact that the overhead light was on in the bedroom, it was still too ridiculously dark outside. Too black, and foreboding, and anyone could be out there. Anyone could be lurking in the shadows, waiting until he was alone. Waiting until he was asleep and no longer on his guard.

He'd wanted nothing more than to ask Eddie to stay with him while he slept, but he couldn't quite do that. He was a grown ass man and he felt stupid for wanting someone with him all the time. He should at least be able to take a nap by himself without troubling Eddie to sit and watch him. Eddie didn't deserve to be his fucking babysitter.

The last thing Richie wanted was to go to sleep, to make himself vulnerable to whoever was out there, but oh god. His head was pounding so very hard, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes against it. That sensation of dizziness had also settled into his head, signifying that his meds were starting to kick in. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second and it wasn't very long before Richie lost his battle to stay awake entirely.

The next time Richie awoke, the light in his room had been shut off, and goddamn it. Eddie had said that he would leave the light on for Richie, and Richie knew that he wouldn't have turned it off. Had the light burned out? Rolling over onto his back, Richie glanced to his right, to the hallway that led to the kitchen beyond. It was completely dark out there too, and Richie didn't think Eddie would have turned them all off. Not when Richie made it explicitly clear that he didn't like being in the dark right now. Had the power gone out?

"Fuck," Richie muttered under his breath, reaching out for his glasses on the bedside table. As soon as he got them on his face, that was when he heard it – the floorboards creaking on the other side of the room. Richie squinted into the darkness, desperately trying to make out a shape, to recognize anything. Anyone.

"Eds?" Richie asked, and he hated the way his voice shook. Hated the way he was shaking, like a scared and stupid little kid. Swallowing, Richie backed up against the headboard behind him, trying to put some distance between himself and whoever was in his room, because he knew someone was.

Knew someone was there as surely as he knew he'd never feel for anyone else the things he felt for Eddie. Richie wasn't even sure how or why they'd ended up living together, because fuck, this was hard. He'd only been home with Eddie for maybe an hour at the most, and Richie already felt like he was losing his mind. How in the hell had they lived together platonically for going on a whole fucking year? Why in god's name had Richie ever agreed to this shit?

But in the end, he knew why. It was why Richie had never admitted his feelings to Eddie in the first place – because he'd rather have Eddie as a friend than not have him in his life at all. And Richie was well aware of the fact that Eddie would probably hate his guts if Richie ever admitted his feelings. Admitted the way he watched Eddie when Richie thought he wasn't looking. The way he desperately wanted to lean over and kiss Eddie whenever they stood close together.

Moving in with Eddie when Richie's feelings were running rampant like this was a really shitty thing to do. Didn't he owe it to Eddie to disclose his feelings before they got this far in their living arrangements? Best friends didn't do that to each other.

Richie couldn't remember anything about their adult lives spent together. The entire year and a half since Pennywise completely lost to him. A fucking year and a half of his life was gone, swallowed up by that black hole in his head. But Richie was pretty sure he had never found it easy to try and hide his feelings for Eddie like this on a day-to-day basis.

Now though, it was probably even worse than before. Not only did Richie have to mask his feelings for his best friend, but he felt like he had to hide everything else he was feeling too. Richie already felt like such a burden to Eddie, and he knew Eddie had to be getting sick of him. Who wants to have the burden of a fucking amnesiac and anxious friend like Richie to have to take care of every day of their lives?

Eddie didn't deserve this and he didn't deserve to have Richie secretly lusting after him. Jesus Christ, but Richie was fucked up.

Richie was shaken from his thoughts, however, when he became aware of heavy breathing coming from somewhere in the dark. He'd been so wrapped up in his feelings for Eddie, Richie had almost forgotten that there was someone in here with him. How did Eddie manage to have that effect on him?

Richie had no explanation except for the fact that he was totally head-over-heels in love with Eddie. Always had been, always would be, and it was easy to get lost in those thoughts sometimes. Easy to feel stupid around the strong and beautiful man that he'd never be able to bury his feelings for. Even though Eddie would tell him that he was stupid all the time.

Digging his heels into the mattress, Richie tried to push himself away again, but then he realized that his legs were tied up in the sheets of the bed. They were twisted around his ankles like killer plants reaching out to get him like in some old horror movie.

Despite his best efforts to try and contain it, Richie could feel himself screaming, an ear-piercing noise being ripped from his throat that he couldn't have contained if his life had depended on it. And perhaps it did, because now whoever was in his room knew Richie was there too. Knew that Richie was a sitting duck with his legs tied up with the fucking bedsheets.

Then it felt like the end of the mattress dipped down, and Richie knew that the person in his room was coming for him. Richie reached down, clawing at the sheets to try and remove them, but it was useless. He was useless, just like he had been when those assholes had bashed his head in in the first place.

And there was that hat – that fucking LA Dodgers hat that Richie was really coming to hate. It swam into his field of vision from somewhere in the dark, and he could see those bright white letters standing out on it like fucking beacons. Only not the good kind.

A moment later, there were hands reaching out in the dark for him. Reaching out and throwing him back towards the mattress. Richie went, the pain in his head exploding all over again when he hit the pillow. Richie could feel the hands curling around his throat then, slowly pressing down and gradually cutting off his air supply.

Richie kicked out again, but it was no use. His legs were still wrapped up in the sheets, and now the intruder was sitting on top of them. Richie clawed at the hands around his throat, desperately trying to pull them away, but he couldn't do it. Couldn't do anything to protect himself, just like he couldn't on that night when his entire life had been ripped from him.

With every last ounce of energy, Richie let out another shrill scream and threw his arms out to his sides. He was looking for something, anything to defend himself with, but the only thing he could reach was the lamp on the bedside table. Richie grabbed for it, but his fingers were much too slick with sweat to get a grasp on the polished porcelain. He only succeeded in pushing the lamp farther from his reach before he could hear it crashing to the floor in the dark.

And then pain exploded up Richie's back and he whined quietly, closing his eyes against everything. Against the intruder in his room, the pain rippling up from his hips, and world in general.

When Eddie flew into Richie's room, he had to grab onto the doorjamb in order to steady himself. It took him a moment to take in the scene, to let his eyes adjust to the overhead light in here as opposed to the darkness he'd been in in the living room.

The sheets and covers were twisted up into what looked like a huge knot on the now empty bed. The lamp on Richie's side of the bed had been knocked to the floor and was laying in a pile of shattered glass and porcelain. Meanwhile, Richie was sitting on the floor with his back up against the side of the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. His head was buried against his knees, his arms wrapped around it like he was trying to shut out the world. He was shaking and large drops of sweat – or perhaps even tears – were standing out against his skin.

"Rich?" Eddie asked quietly, not wanting to scare Richie if he wasn't quite awake yet. Eddie stepped farther into the room, letting go of the doorframe as he went. When Richie didn't reply or seem to take any notice of him, Eddie again asked, "Richie?"

When his question still went unanswered, Eddie went to Richie on shaking legs. Eddie dropped to his knees at his husband's side, gently laying his hand on Richie's shoulder. "Richie?" Eddie asked, a little louder this time.

Richie started and lifted his head up slightly, but still didn't look at Eddie. He stared straight ahead at some random spot on the wall, but not quite seeming to process it. Richie was breathing so very hard, like he had just run a mile. He still didn't look at Eddie.

"Hey, Richie?" Eddie said. "It's me. It's Eds. I'm here and you're safe. Okay? It's just us." Eddie paused to swallow, because his mouth felt ridiculously dry, like he had been on that mile run with Richie. "Can you look at me please?"

Richie finally blinked and tore his eyes away from the wall. He looked in Eddie's direction, but it seemed to take a few seconds before he realized what he was looking at. When he blinked again, recognition and what Eddie hoped was relief filled his eyes. "E-Eds?"

"Yeah," Eddie replied, laying his other hand on Richie's far shoulder. He took a moment to rearrange his legs underneath him, sitting down on the floor next to Richie now. "I'm here, okay? You're safe." When Richie didn't say anything more, Eddie tentatively asked, "Did…did you have another nightmare?"

Richie nodded mechanically and didn't say anything more. He didn't like to talk about his nightmares after the fact, and Eddie wouldn't push him to again now, because it never ended well; it only served to make Richie shut down and try to push Eddie away again.

Looking away from Eddie, Richie's eyes traveled across the floor until he saw the shattered lamp laying near his feet. Richie blinked at this too, like he wasn't sure what he was seeing at first.

"I broke the lamp," Richie said, and his voice was quivering, like he was on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry about it," Eddie said, in an attempt to calm Richie, but also out of complete honesty. "They're leftover from your…from your old apartment." Eddie had been about to say they were leftover from Richie's bachelor life, and he almost had to bite at his lower lip in order to keep the words inside. "I don't care. They're fucking ugly, okay? And they don't go with anything in here. We were only going to keep them until we got new ones, but we just never got around to it." Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh before he added, "I suppose that was a good thing now. We have no choice but to get new ones."

Richie kept staring at the lamp like he was looking at a dead body. Like he had seen someone die in front of him. But then when he spoke again, he strangely almost sounded like his old self. "Are you saying I have bad taste?" He threw his eyes to Eddie, and they were dancing like they did when he knew he and Eddie were about to banter.

"Fuck yeah, you do," Eddie immediately retorted. "The worst." He glanced back at the bed and found Richie's hideous tropical fish shirt intertwined in the covers. Fishing it out, he held it up for Richie to see. "Look at this shit. And you have the nerve to ask me if you have bad taste."

"What are you talking about?" Richie cried, pulling his shirt from Eddie's fingers. "I love this shirt. It's one of my favorites." He wrapped his hands tightly in the material and held it up to his chest like it comforted him.

"I know," Eddie said. "That's why I brought it for you to wear home."

"Did you ever wonder if, just maybe, you're the one that has bad taste?"

"Never."

"Because you are."

"Fuck off."

Richie straightened his legs out a little bit and took a deep breath, like bantering with Eddie had calmed him significantly. Letting his shirt drop to his lap, sandwiched in between his thighs and stomach, Richie stared at it in silence, his fingers still wrapped up in the material.

Eddie bit at his bottom lip, desperately wanting to get back to the topic at hand, but not sure how to. Again, Richie never liked to talk about these things, but it was becoming painfully obvious to Eddie that he needed to eventually. The more Richie tried to push away his feelings and pretend they didn't exist, the more the experience seemed to affect him.

"Rich?" Eddie asked quietly, running his hand up and down Richie's upper arm. "Are you okay?" Eddie flinched at his question, because Richie was clearly not all right. Not at all. "I mean…do you want to talk about it?"

Richie shrugged, an action that was much too fast. Too automatic.

"You don't have to," Eddie said, not wanting Richie to feel pressured into anything. "I'm not going to force you to talk about anything you don't want to. But…you can, you know? I'm…I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Richie sighed, his eyes still locked on that shirt in his lap. "I know. I just…you know what's wrong. You know what I'm having nightmares about. You know what…what I'm afraid of. So what's the point in talking about it?"

"It can help," Eddie told him. "Believe me, I know."

Eddie shifted again, leaning up against the bed like Richie was, but still fully facing Richie. Fully giving Richie his attention. He let his hand drift down to Richie's forearm, resting it there instead. He wasn't sure if Richie would shake it off or not, but in the end, he didn't. Eddie loved touching Richie there, loved the feel of Richie's arm underneath his fingers, the way the hair there brushed against Eddie's skin.

Eddie leaned his head into the mattress, not taking his eyes from Richie. "I don't know if you remember, but Myra had me fucked up six ways from Sunday."

Frowning momentarily, Richie asked, "She was like your mother, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie sighed. "An exact clone actually, more or less. It was fucked up. I divorced her, and when I moved in with you, I was still doing shit that Myra would have made me do."

Eddie paused to take a deep breath, because they were treading into unknown territory here. They were venturing into things that Richie didn't remember, and Eddie always fretted over what else these things might trigger. Over what memories they might stir up in Richie and the way he might react to them.

"I asked your permission for shit," Eddie said around a heavy breath. "I asked if it was okay to look for a job out here. If you thought the job I wanted was okay to take. I asked if it was okay to buy shit for the house. To bring certain things from home. Because Myra always had the last word on everything. I…I had to do those things with her. If she didn't want me to have something, if she didn't want me to do something, I listened…most of the time. I was terrified of what would happen if I didn't."

Eddie opened his mouth, fully intending to keep going, but he forced himself to stop. Forced himself to stop before he said entirely too much, but in the end, he decided to throw caution to the wind. Eddie kept thinking about Bill's words, about how he thought that Richie still carried a torch for Eddie. If that was even remotely true, then didn't Eddie owe it to Richie to hint at that fact? Richie was still his husband, and didn't he deserve to know if he wasn't alone in his feelings if, in fact, they were still there?

Eddie thought back to his very first kiss with Richie. When they stood on the cliff at the top of the quarry, and Eddie had pushed himself up on his tiptoes to kiss the man he had realized was the love of his life. Eddie's heart had been pounding so fast, and he had been so scared. It was by far the bravest thing he had ever done in his life – even more so than anything involving Pennywise – and it had turned out to be the best decision he'd ever made. If he could work up the courage to do that in the face of the uncertainty he felt at the time, then he could find the courage somewhere to be a little more honest with Richie about his feelings now, couldn't he?

"Myra didn't even want me to come back to Derry," Eddie finally admitted. "Didn't want me to…see all of you again." He forced out a breath of air, which he meant to be calming, but he felt anything but. "Like you were all a threat to our marriage or something."

Richie snorted. "Well, we kind of were. 'Cause your dumbass decided that moving in with me was the best course of action."

"And it was," Eddie agreed. "I didn't realize until I got here, until I got away from her just how much I let her control every aspect of my life. How much I let her make decisions for me."

"You're…you're a grown man," Richie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're allowed to do what you want."

"I know that now," Eddie agreed, "but I didn't then. I was so used to her. So used to my mother. They…conditioned me, you know? Made me believe that I had to get other people's opinions, other people's permission when I wanted to do something. I know that's unhealthy now, but it took me a long time to learn that. Or rather to unlearn the things they taught me. You helped me with that."

Richie finally met his eyes, glancing up from the shirt he was still fingering in his lap. "I did?"

Eddie nodded. "Yeah. You told me that you wanted me to think of this place as…a fresh start. A…place of freedom. That when I stepped over that threshold, my mother and Myra weren't allowed any farther. I was allowed to be my own person here and not just an extension of them. Not even…an extension of you."

"And you shouldn't be," Richie said. His brow was furrowed, like there was something that was just outside his realm of understanding. Just outside his memory. "You're your own person. You shouldn't…exist in order to make someone else happy." Richie suddenly heaved out a sigh, leaning his head back against the edge of the mattress behind him. He blinked up at the ceiling, and if Eddie wasn't mistaken, thought he could see his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And look at what I've been doing to you since I woke up in the hospital."

"Rich," Eddie immediately replied, "that absolutely is not the point of my story! After what you've been through, you're allowed to lean on me and ask for help. You know that, right? That's what best friends are for."

Richie hung his head, running his thumb over the shirt in his lap. "I guess."

"You're not…" Eddie began, but then he stopped, reconsidering his words carefully. He brought his free hand up, the one that wasn't currently over Richie's forearm, and cupped Richie's cheek with it. He gently turned Richie's head until their eyes met before he went on. "I told you in the hospital that I want to help you. You don't need to worry about me leaving or worry about asking too much of me, because that's what I'm here for. And tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you were in my position."

Richie smiled. It was a small and sad smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I would drive you crazy with how everbearing I'd be."

"I know," Eddie said around a small laugh. He dropped his hand from Richie's cheek a moment later, letting it drift to the back of Richie's hand instead. Eddie hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if his hands on Richie's arm would be thrown off, but they weren't. "You already told me that you feel like you can do this if you have me, and I told you that you do. I'm going to be by your side for as long as it takes, no questions asked."

Richie's face scrunched up, those tears that Eddie had noticed before welling up again. Just one managed to escape Richie's eye and spill down his cheek before he turned his hand over in Eddie's. Richie threaded their fingers together, gripping Eddie's hand as if for dear life. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking.

"And I need you," Richie said. "I do. I need you so much." He momentarily broke off to release a sob before he said, "For reasons that I can't even begin to explain. In the hospital, I told you that I like being around you, but…that's not all of it. That doesn't even begin to scratch the surface, because…I feel so much better when I'm with you. You…make me feel whole in ways that I just don't when you leave. And…despite what you may think, I actually am a lot calmer and relaxed when you're here." Richie forced out a laugh that he clearly didn't feel. "Is that a fucked up way to feel about your best friend even considering the circumstances?"

"No!" Eddie exclaimed, shaking his head wildly. "No, because I actually feel the same way. Honestly? You're…you're my other half, and I wouldn't have moved in here in the first place if I didn't feel that way. Do you think I moved my shit all the across the country just for shits and giggles? Do you think I'd subject myself to your annoying ass if I didn't genuinely enjoy your company?"

"I don't know," Richie said, even though there was a tiny smile playing about his lips. "I mean, you married Myra, so what does that say about your life choices?"

With his free hand, Eddie pushed lightly against Richie's shoulder. "I'm not the same person I was when I married Myra. I've changed and grown so much since that frightened and meek man you met in the Jade of the Orient. Which brings me back to my original point, which you so rudely interrupted, jackass."

A noise escaped from Richie, something between a snort of laughter and a sob. He quickly reached up with his free hand, swiping away the tear's trail on his cheek. "Sorry."

"Just…do you realize how much you've helped me grow into the man I am today?" Eddie asked. "And you did that, because you were there for me every step of the way. You and I both knew how much my mother and Myra fucked me up, but you listened to me when I needed to vent about it. You listened to me all the times I told you how scared I was to try and stand on my own two feet, because they had defined who I was for my entire life. I was terrified to see who I was without them, because I didn't feel like anyone. I felt like…just a shell. A husk of a person. And you…helped me find myself again. We stayed up late so many times, just talking about the shit they put me through, and you have no idea how much that helped me. How much you helped me find myself and the person I wanted to be. You helped me uncover that person that was buried so fucking far down, I didn't think he'd ever see the light of day again. But here he is. Here I am, because of you. Because you wouldn't let me stay buried. So yes, talking about it does help. Very much so."

"I know," Richie said, staring down at his and Eddie's hands clasped tightly together. "God, I know people should talk about their feelings, but…I've been hiding from them my whole life. It's why I'm such a jackass most of the time – because it's easier than being honest about my feelings. Or maybe not easier, but…less scary?"

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. "It's where all of your jokes about fucking my mother stemmed from – because it was your way of hiding your sexuality. I know that now."

Richie lifted his head, meeting Eddie's eyes. They were big, and brown, and searching behind his glasses. "That wasn't the only thing I was hiding."

Neither of them said anything, neither of them moved for what felt like an eternity. Well, that was a lie, because Eddie's heartrate had picked up and felt like it was going to pound a hole through his chest. Eddie wondered if Richie could hear it, it was so impossibly loud to his own ears. A lump had settled into Eddie's throat, and he could feel drops of sweat forming along his skin. This made Eddie's heart beat even faster, because what if Richie felt the sweat growing in between their clasped palms?

When Richie broke the silence nearly a minute later, it wasn't quite what Eddie had been expecting to hear. Hell, it wasn't what he was hoping to hear either.

"I…I was using it to hide everything, you know?" Richie said. "The entirety of who I was, just like your mother and Myra were doing to you."

Eddie forced himself to nod, even though he had no idea what he was agreeing to. He wasn't even sure why he felt a deep sense of disappointment settle into the middle of his chest. He had known it wouldn't be that easy. He had known that from the moment Richie had come out of his coma and called Eddie his 'bestie'. So why did it make Eddie's chest hurt?

Richie was fingering the shirt in his lap with his free hand again, now staring at it so intently like it contained the answers he sought. "So yeah," Richie sighed, "I know I should be honest about what I'm feeling. I mean, Jesus, it was terrifying to me when I didn't know if I was out of the closet or not. It's…so much more freeing knowing…I can be honest about who I am."

Biting at his bottom lip, Richie diverted his gaze to the broken lamp at his feet, to the way the red porcelain reflected the light pouring down on them from the ceiling.

"And you can be honest with me about who you are," Eddie said when Richie didn't continue on. "I'm…I'm your best friend and I'm always going to love you. No matter what you tell me." Eddie sucked in a sharp breath, because he hadn't quite intended to say those words. Not until they were out, but now they hung in the air between them. Hung there, spoken and irretrievable.

Eddie felt like he was flailing internally, throwing things at the wall to see what stuck, but nothing did. Because dear god, his oblivious husband sometimes had to be hit over the head with something before he realized what was right in front of his face.

"I just feel dumb, because I'm a grown man," Richie muttered.

Instead of latching onto the words that Eddie thought might make him realize something, anything, Richie went right back to burying his head in the sand. Yeah, dumb was right.

"I don't know," Richie said around a sigh. "I just…I feel bad asking for things that I feel like I should be able to do on my own."

"What sorts of things?" Eddie tried to push down that feeling that was still in his chest, like the moment between them where they had been on the verge of truly being honest with each other was gone forever. Gone and never coming back. "If you need help with anything, you can ask me."

"It wasn't help exactly," Richie said. When he met Eddie's eyes again, his eyes were swimming now, his jaw quivering the tiniest bit. "It was…staying with me while I slept. I didn't want to be alone. I told you, I feel safer when you're with me."

A sob escaped from Richie next, then another one, and before Eddie even realized it, they had turned into a string. One right after the other that Eddie could tell Richie was fighting to keep in, but couldn't any longer. Couldn't continue to hide what had been festering there for days.

"And I'm here," Eddie said firmly. He leaned forward, reaching his free hand around Richie's shoulders. It took a moment, but Richie finally relaxed against him while Eddie hugged him tightly. "Jesus, if you need me to stay in the same room while you sleep, I'll do it. All you need to do is say the word. Please don't be afraid to ask for anything."

"But only…only little kids are…are afraid to sleep by themselves," Richie hiccupped out. "Only little kids…and I didn't even do that when I was a little kid. Not even with Pennywise, because…you know. I couldn't exactly ask my parents if I could sleep with them, because I was afraid of the fucking clown."

Eddie's hand instinctively went up to the back of Richie's head, but all his fingers met were bandages. He gently ran his fingers along the gauzy material, waiting for Richie to flinch away or to tell him it was painful. When he did neither, Eddie said, "You're allowed to ask for anything. It doesn't make you weak, no matter what it is. You're not a coward, okay? You helped beat the shit out of that fucking clown not just once, but twice, and you're still so fucking brave now. You're brave to keep putting one foot in front the other now, because I know you're scared. And that's okay. It's…okay to not be okay. And you don't need to feel dumb or embarrassed to admit that, because I promise, I don't think any less of you for it. You're allowed to be scared, and you're allowed to need help."

Richie was still sobbing, but they had subsided slightly now. "You won't…think I'm annoying or a nuisance? You're won't think I'm a pain in the ass?"

Eddie huffed out a laugh. "You've been a pain in my ass since we were six years old. Why should that change anything now?"

It was Richie's turn to laugh, his body shaking in Eddie's arms. He was still crying, sniffling into the shoulder of Eddie's t-shirt, but that laugh was – that true laugh – was a glorious sound to hear.

"Okay?" Eddie asked quietly.

Richie only nodded against Eddie's shoulder in response, but Eddie considered it good enough.

They sat like that for a long time, hugging each other with one arm while their free hands were clasped together tightly. Richie's cries eventually subsided until silence engulfed the room, but it was nice. It wasn't the least bit heavy or uncomfortable, but welcoming and peaceful.

When Eddie was sure Richie was all cried out, he asked, "Are your bandages okay?" His hand went up to them again, checking for moisture that he had been too preoccupied to think about before. "You didn't hit your head or anything, did you?"

Richie shook his head, pulling away from Eddie slightly. "No. When I fell out of bed, I fell on my ass." He rubbed at his backside with his hand, flinching slightly. "I'm probably going to have a bruise there, but at least my head doesn't hurt anymore."

"Let me see," Eddie said, leaning around Richie to get a good look at the back of his head. He lifted up the bandages over the base of his skull, checking for any sign of blood or further trauma. When the area looked cleaned, Eddie gently replaced the bandages and said, "Okay, you're good. And thank god, because try explaining that one to the doctors – that you fell out of bed and cracked your head open again."

"Yeah," Richie agreed, rubbing the tears from his eyes and cheeks. "Like I needed those motherfuckers to crack my head open for me. I can do it on my own just fine, thanks."

And there was Richie again, trying to mask his feelings by making a joke out of it. On the other hand, however, it was reassuring to know that some things never changed. It was nice to know that his Richie, however much a pain in the ass he was, was still in there somewhere. And god, Eddie loved him. Just sitting on the bedroom floor with him, seeing Richie's eyes still glimmer with unshed tears, Eddie loved him. Loved him so much, it hurt.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to pull Richie into his arms again and kiss him desperately, and that hurt too.

"Eds?" Richie asked tentatively.

"What?"

"You said I can ask you for anything, right?"

"Anything."

"I'm…I'm hungry."

Eddie smiled, because he was glad that Richie at least had an appetite again. "I think I can manage that. Do you still want soup or something else?"

"I think soup sounds good," Richie replied. "Help to calm me down after…all that."

"Yeah."

"And tea?"

"We have decaf, so yes," Eddie said, pushing himself to his feet. "Because that's all you're getting. I'm under strict instructions to limit your caffeine intake until you're fully healed." A moment later, he held out his hand for Richie to help him up.

Richie grumbled something under his breath before he took Eddie's hand, leaning on the bed with his free hand as he struggled to get his feet underneath him.

"Be careful of the lamp," Eddie warned, not wanting him to cut his foot too on the scattered shards of porcelain.

When Richie finally straightened up, he swayed momentarily and blinked. The doctors had warned that he might be unsteady at times, especially after sitting or lying down for long periods of time, so this wasn't unexpected. Eddie simply held his hand, his other hand going out to Richie's shoulder.

"Okay?" Eddie asked when he seemed to steady himself.

"Yeah," Richie whispered, staring down at Eddie.

He was standing so very close, Eddie could feel Richie's breath coming warm and fast on his nose. They stood there for a long time, neither of them moving or speaking a word. Just as they had on the cliff above the quarry after defeating Pennywise for the second time. Just before Eddie had taken the biggest risk of his life and kissed him, changing the course of their lives forever. But now...Eddie couldn't quite bring himself to do it again. Couldn't bring himself to put that much of himself on the line again. Besides, shouldn't that be Richie's decision to make right now? Richie already had so much on his plate right now, and he was juggling so many different emotions. Eddie didn't want to give Richie anything else to process.

And god, he wanted to. Eddie wanted to push himself up on his tiptoes and press his lips to Richie's again. He missed that. He missed being able to touch Richie in that way, and he ached for it. He needed it like he needed air to breathe, but he forced himself to stay put. Forced his feet to remain completely flat on the floor.

"Eds?"

"Hm?" Eddie was afraid to say anything further, terrified that it might somehow break the almost magic spell that had settled between them.

"Do we have wedding soup?"

Eddie blinked, because Jesus Christ. He knew this man like the back of his hand, but how did Richie always have the ability to throw him for a loop? Because of course his fucking husband was suddenly thinking about his stomach at a time like this.

Eddie forced out a laugh then, because he didn't quite know what else to do. "Your favorite? Of course we do."

Unable to stand there facing Richie for another moment, Eddie slowly turned towards the door. He kept his hand tightly entwined in Richie's, however, not quite ready to let him go. Richie didn't seem to mind, letting Eddie guide down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Why don't you sit down?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the barstools in front of the island counter. He knew better than to try and send Richie into the living room by himself.

Richie did as he was told as Eddie started to boil water for tea and opened two cans of soup to heat up on the stove.

"Do you want to watch some TV while we eat?" Eddie asked, opening the cabinet where they kept the tea. "Or put a movie on?"

"Yeah," Richie said softly, smiling. "I think…that would be nice, you know? Take my mind off stuff. You said we used to do it a lot?"

"All the fucking time," Eddie told him, and it was his turn to smile. So many times, he and Richie snuggled up on the couch, making stupid jokes about whatever they were watching and giggling like idiots. It would then often turn into a make out session, and Eddie missed that too.

"Just nothing scary or creepy, okay?" Richie asked, a visible shiver rippling through him.

He and Richie had never shied away from watching scary movies before, not even in the throes of the battles with Pennywise. In fact, horror had always been one of their favorite genres, but Eddie fully understood why Richie wouldn't want to watch that sort of thing right now.

"Nothing scary or creepy," Eddie promised.

Fishing out their trays from the cupboard under the sink, Eddie placed them on the island counter. He set out two soup bowls next before spooning the steaming hot soup into them. And that, that was when he caught Richie's expression. Caught the way Richie had settled his chin into his hands and was watching Eddie's movements like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever looked at. There was a smile present on Richie's lips that Eddie didn't see very often anymore, and that was nice to look at too.

As Eddie turned around to finish making their tea, he was horribly aware of the fact that Richie was still watching him. Not that Eddie had any problem with that, but was Richie staring at his ass, eyeing the way the fabric of his pants hugged it? Because he knew Richie used to do that all the fucking time.

What in the hell was wrong with Eddie? That wasn't where they were at right now in their relationship, and Eddie owed Richie a lot more than to automatically start assuming that everything was turning sexual between them again. So why did Eddie's mind keep going there?

"You remember how I take my tea."

Eddie had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he barely even registered the fact that Richie had spoken. Eddie turned around from his place at the counter, staring at Richie open-mouthed. "What?" he asked.

"My tea," Richie said, gesturing to the cup that Eddie was currently spooning sugar into. "Three scoops of sugar."

"Oh," Eddie said, turning back to the mug and stirring in the sugar. "Yeah." He wanted to say something about the fact that of course he knew how his husband liked his tea, which Eddie had to bite his tongue to stifle.

Eddie's hands were shaking as he set their teacups on the trays, and he only hoped to god that Richie wouldn't notice. Wouldn't notice the way Richie's eyes on him were making him so fucking antsy. Eddie felt like he was about to leap out of his own skin.

When he handed Richie his tray, Eddie asked, "You're okay to carry this, right? Because I'm not cleaning up after your ass either."

"Yes," Richie said around a snicker. "Perfectly okay. I'm not a fucking invalid."

"Just checking! Don't want a mess on my fucking floor."

"Our fucking floor! This is my house too."

"Our fucking floor!" Eddie echoed back as he followed Richie into the living room.

When they settled on the couch to eat their soup, Richie flipped through the channels until he settled on the movie While You Were Sleeping. They were never really ones to watch romantic comedies, but it was one of the few they liked and had watched together many times. And leave it to Richie to pick a romantic comedy right now of all things. His fucking husband.

"Didn't…didn't we used to watch this a lot?" Richie asked, chewing on a meatball from his soup. He turned to look at Eddie, Richie's eyes boring into him.

"Yeah," Eddie replied, busying himself with taking a sip of his steaming cup of tea. He stared down at it, unable to meet Richie's eyes. "We didn't…watch it together until after we moved in here. You remember that?" He finally raised his eyes to return Richie's gaze.

"Just…it was a flash like déjà vu," Richie told him. "Not really a full memory." Richie frowned at the television before he added, "I feel like we've done this before." Richie took a couple more spoonfuls of soup and washed it down with tea. Then he told Eddie, "Maybe not even this movie in particular, but sitting here with you is familiar."

"Yeah, it is."

When they finished eating and set their trays down on the coffee table, Richie ended up lying down on the couch, his head near Eddie's legs. Little by little, Richie kept somehow scooting farther up the couch towards Eddie. Eddie wasn't sure if Richie was even aware he was doing it, if it was completely deliberate on Richie's part, or if Richie kept stretching out to give his long ass legs more room.

Eventually, Eddie picked up the throw pillow from where it sat under his elbow and placed it across his knees. He patted it gently and asked, "Would this be more comfortable?"

"Mm," Richie hummed in response, shifting up the last few inches towards Eddie. Richie settled his head on the pillow before snaking one of his hands underneath it. He let his fingers curl comfortably around Eddie's knee.

Eddie's heart started pounding again, and he focused on keeping his breathing steady and even so that Richie wouldn't catch on. Wouldn't hear Eddie's heart about to burst out of his chest. When Eddie was sure his heart and his breathing were under control, he rested his right hand on Richie's bicep and his left hand on top of Richie's head.

Eddie couldn't help himself from carefully running his fingers through Richie's hair peeking out from the edge of the bandages. He kept his movements small and gentle and then asked, "Is this okay?"

"Mhm."

"Let me know if I'm hurting you."

"You're not," Richie mumbled sleepily. "Feels nice."

Richie closed his eyes before he reached up with his free hand. He brought it up towards his bicep, stretching his fingers out until Eddie got the hint. Eddie locked their fingers together, using his thumb to rub it over Richie's.

"Spagheds?"

There was that name again, the one that Richie only used more and more once they had gotten married. Eddie was still running his fingers through the hair around Richie's bandages – something he had missed doing so very much, and he couldn't quite bring himself to stop. "Hm?" Eddie hummed absently, reveling in the fact that Richie was completely calm and relaxed under his fingers, because it had been a long time coming.

"Did…" Richie began, but then he stopped for a long time. Eddie could see him swallowing, could feel his breath hitch before he finally voiced his thoughts. "Did I ever tell you that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me?"

It was Eddie's turn to gasp for breath, because it was probably the very last thing he expected Richie to tell him. Except maybe for him to fully confess his feelings then and there. Not wanting Richie to think that his words weren't welcome, that Eddie didn't thrive on these sorts of platitudes, he quietly said, "Yeah." A soft smile overtook Eddie's features as he added, "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me too."

Richie didn't say anything more, but his left hand tightened around Eddie's fingers while his right squeezed around Eddie's knee. It wasn't very long before Richie closed his eyes, his grip on Eddie softened, and his breathing slowed even more.

Eddie didn't dare move, letting Richie cling to him in peaceful sleep. There were so many things Eddie wished he could do – lay down and spoon Richie on the couch, kiss him, and cling to him in return. But for right now, this was enough. Just having Richie safe, and content, and needing Eddie was even more than Eddie could have ever hoped for.

But there was one little thing Eddie couldn't keep inside. One little thing he felt needed to be said out loud.

"I love you, Richie."

To be continued…