Author's note: I apologize, once again, for leaving this story for so long. Can we just pretend that April didn't exist? Because it was just full of a lot of stress that understandably messed with my muse. I still have some things going on, but I'm trying to get back into my writing, because I really do miss my creative outlet, especially when I'm stressed out. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

The Space Between Us
Chapter 13 – You're Still You

Richie had lied to Eddie. On the one hand, it was little a white lie that Richie thought had been for the best, but on the other…Richie felt horrible that he was being dishonest with Eddie at all. It didn't seem like they did that – hide things from each other. Eddie had already told him that they were best friends so they could tell each other anything.

Except for the fact that Richie had been desperately in love with Eddie since they were thirteen years old.

And except for the fact that Richie thought he was remembering more about the song that Eddie had played for him. While listening to it, Richie had gotten strange flashes of…something. It was very vague and not clear at all, like looking through an out-of-focus camera, but Richie thought he recalled singing that song to Eddie in a purposely off-key tone. Just something else that Richie had done over the years to try and get Eddie's attention, and Eddie had probably rolled his eyes and made some sarcastic comment.

Probably.

But that was just it, because there was still so much that Richie couldn't remember at all. So many things that still remained just outside of his realm of consciousness. And he could feel them there, swimming around, like they were taunting him by being just out of reach.

Richie didn't know why he didn't tell Eddie about that – about singing off-key – other than the fact that Richie thought he might be misremembering things in the first place. Maybe it had only been something that Richie had thought about doing, dreaming that his antics would finally get the sort of attention from Eddie that he so desperately craved.

Now that he thought about it some more, Richie kept dwelling on this far-fetched fantasy that Eddie would fall into his arms at those words from the song. Perhaps Eddie would even have tears in his eyes when he realized that Richie had shared in the feelings that he'd been harboring for decades. Even though deep down, Richie knew that would never happen.

Eddie surely would have admitted his feelings to Richie by now if he had. It felt like Richie had done everything in his power to make his feelings known other than coming right out and telling Eddie the truth. With being such a big proponent of being honest about their feelings, Eddie wouldn't hide his for this long. Richie was sure of it.

Even since waking up in the hospital, Richie thought he had been pushing the envelope on what was acceptable behavior for best friends. He was constantly finding ways and excuses to touch Eddie and cuddle up to him, just like he had done with the hammock when they had been little. Richie was still waiting for Eddie to tell him that enough was enough, to tell Richie to get the fuck off of him. But Eddie never did, and Richie wasn't sure if it was because Eddie felt sorry for him now or not.

Tonight would be no different.

Richie hesitated before getting into bed that night, the thought of waking up all alone in the dark again chilling him to the core. The thought of again putting himself in such a vulnerable position, of being completely open to any attack making his heart pound ridiculously hard against his ribs.

Richie had actually ended up getting a really good night's sleep on the couch, but he couldn't possibly ask Eddie to spend the night in such an uncomfortable position again. Moreover, Richie thought that asking Eddie to sleep in bed with him was definitely taking advantage of his current predicament. They had a chair in the corner that Eddie could spend the night in, but that would be even worse than trying to sleep on the couch.

Eddie had told him time and time again that Richie could ask for anything he needed, but Richie still felt guilty about it. Still felt like he was acting like a stupid little child that Eddie shouldn't have to look after.

In the end, however, Eddie knew exactly what Richie was thinking. Eddie always knew. (Except for knowing that Richie would give fucking anything if Eddie loved him back.)

When Eddie finished brushing his teeth and came into the bedroom, he didn't waste any time in getting into the far side of the bed. He pulled down the covers on Richie's side of the bed and patted the mattress. "Come on," Eddie said. "Do you want to watch TV for a while like we did last night?" He reached for the remote control on the bedside table before settling into his pillow and tugging the covers tightly around him.

Still, Richie hesitated, wondering if this was too much. Wondering if he was overstepping his bounds as a friend. "You're…sleeping in my bed?"

"If you still want me to stay with you," Eddie said. "I told you, it's not a problem. If…that's okay."

"Y-yeah, but…is it okay for you?"

"It's fine," Eddie said around a smile like he could read Richie's thoughts. "Remember we used to share a bed all the time when we had sleepovers when we were kids? Remember how we used to fight each for that hammock? And we never thought twice about it."

"But that's just it," Richie said, wringing his hands together. "We were kids. Adults don't do that shit. Except for, you know, when they're getting it on."

Eddie rolled his eyes and muttered, "Jesus, Rich. Is that all you ever think about?" He threw his arm over his eyes a moment later, but Richie was certain a faint blush was creeping up in his cheeks. A moment later, Eddie cleared his throat and turned on the television. He seemed particularly interested in a show that Richie was sure he would never watch – some stupid sketch comedy show that he would invariably compare to Richie's own dumb humor.

Richie blinked, because he doubted he thought about sex that much; he had been in the closet for almost his entire life, so continuing to hide any urges he had felt like second nature to him. "Do I?"

Snorting, Eddie changed the channel before he said, "Once…you came out, yeah. You hardly make any bones about who you'd like to bone." Eddie briefly glanced at Richie before directing his gaze back at the television. "Pun intended."

"Oh," was all Richie could say, because there were two things wrong with what Eddie had said.

The only person on the face of the earth that Richie had ever wanted so intimately was Eddie. Even in the unlikely case that Richie saw some random person that he thought was hot, he didn't think that he would ever come right out and say so in front of Eddie; he'd never want Eddie to think that there was anyone else before him.

"So are you going to come to bed or stand there all night?" Eddie asked, grinning up at him.

Richie swallowed hard before he asked, "Are you sure it's okay? It won't…I mean, you won't be uncomfortable?"

"Come on," Eddie said, turning over onto his side to face Richie fully. "You slept on top of me all night last night. It's not like this'll be much different. And much more comfortable for me, since I won't be sitting up all night."

At long last, Richie finally sank down onto the mattress, but he still didn't make any move to lie to down or to move any closer to Eddie. Even though he wanted to. He wanted to desperately, perhaps more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life – actually lying in a fucking bed with the man of his dreams. But at the same time, the last thing he wanted was to do anything to make Eddie uncomfortable, and he didn't know why this was so different. Why this was so different than hugging or cuddling on the couch like they had been?

A moment later, Eddie reached out, laying hand on Richie's arm. "It's okay. Really. It's not going to make me uncomfortable. Not in the least. You need me to stay with you and I said I would. That's what's important to me right now – making sure you're okay. If this is what you need right now, then it's perfectly okay with me. All right?"

Richie gave him the most grateful smile he could before finally lying down against the mattress and pulling the covers tightly around him. He was on his side, facing Eddie, and he could already feel Eddie's warmth spreading towards him through the sheets. If he reached out his fingers, he thought that Eddie's hand would be right there for him to grasp.

He could have, but he didn't.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Richie said around a deep and soft breath. "The lights are on and you're here, so I'll be okay."

"So did you want to watch something before we fall asleep?" Eddie asked again, going back to changing the channels.

"Mm," Richie hummed sleepily, already feeling his eyelids get droopy. "If you want to."

Eddie turned his attention back to the television, but it was only briefly. When he faced Richie a moment later, he said, "So Bill called me this morning. When you were in the shower. Before…we had to call the detective and everything."

Eddie stared down at the remote control in his hands, running his fingers along the back where the battery compartment was.

"Okay," Richie said, not quite sure why Eddie was telling him this now. Or why he thought it was important. "And…?" He waved his hand for Eddie to go on.

"Well, he wanted to make sure you were okay, and um…the rest of the Losers kind of wanted to stop over before they headed back home," Eddie told him.

Richie bit at his bottom lip before he flopped over onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, feeling Eddie's eyes on him.

"I…I told Bill I wasn't sure," Eddie whispered. "I know you're going through so much right now and…being social isn't exactly at the top of your priorities."

"Yeah," Richie agreed. He began playing with the hem of one of the blankets, desperate for something to do other than answer the question. Something to distract him from Eddie's eyes on him. "I just…I'm not exactly the friend they've come to know either." Richie frowned deeply.

"Rich," Eddie said softly. He made a movement like he was going to reach out for Richie's arm again, but then he seemed to think better of it. He pulled his hand back under the covers before he said, "You know that's not what they care about. You don't need to worry about being funny or entertaining anyone. They only care about you and they want to spend some time with you before they leave. Not…any persona you can put on, but…you. They wouldn't want you to pretend for their benefit either."

Richie forced a smile he didn't really feel and asked, "You don't…think they'll be disappointed in me?" Richie raised his eyes, glancing up at Eddie again. "I mean, when I was in the hospital, it was one thing, but I feel like I should be getting better by now."

"And you are!" Eddie exclaimed. He reached out his hand again, resting it on the mattress near Richie's shoulder, but not quite touching him. "Look how much calmer you are right now than when I brought you home from the hospital just yesterday. You're so much more comfortable being here than I even thought you'd be. After your initial nightmare, you managed to sleep soundlessly through the rest of the night, and most of your appetite is back. You ate your entire lunch and all of your dinner tonight." Eddie finally reached up, resting his fingers along the sleeve of Richie's t-shirt. "You're doing so much better."

Deep down, Richie felt like it wasn't quite what Eddie had wanted or even meant to do, but it was enough. Any touch at all from Eddie was comforting.

"And look at what you were able to do today," Eddie told him next. "All the information you were able to remember and share with the detective. They're going to find the fucking assholes that did this to you and they're going to put them behind bars so they can't do this to anyone else. And that's all because of you, Rich. Because you were brave enough to come forward with what you know."

Richie let out a heavy sigh before he said, "I guess. But I'm still…hardly the person I was before all of this happened. I realized that today when I was trying to write down some jokes in my notebooks…because they're nothing like some of the old ones."

"And you don't need to be the same person!" Eddie slid his hand across the sleeve of Richie's t-shirt, squeezing his bicep gently. "No one expects you to be the same person. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through, but I know it's going to have a lasting impact on you, and I don't blame you in the least for that. No one does. And no one expects you to…just be okay."

"Do you miss him?" The words were out of Richie's mouth before he could even stop himself, and he almost instantly regretted it. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but still, the words were hanging in the air above them like a heavy dark cloud.

"Miss who?"

They both knew what Richie was asking, but he still clarified, "Me. The old me. Do you miss him?"

Richie could see Eddie swallowing, his eyes going towards the television again. Eddie spent an inordinate amount of time watching it, even though they hadn't watched a moment of it thus far and had no idea what was even happening on the current program.

"I hate that this even happened to you," Eddie finally said, still not meeting Richie's gaze.

"That's not what I asked."

Eddie's breath hitched in his throat as he forced himself to meet Richie's eyes again. "You're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend. Nothing's ever going to change that."

"That's also not what I asked."

Eddie ran his thumb over the seam of Richie's sleeve, staring at it like it might contain all he answers he needed. Like there was any right answer to Richie's question, because he wasn't even sure that one existed.

"I know," Eddie said around a sigh. He paused for a very long time, alternately meeting Richie's eyes and then diverting his attention to Richie's shirt instead. "Look," Eddie said when he finally met Richie's gaze again, "I'm not going to lie to you. Not about this. Yes, you are different. An experience like this is bound to change anyone, but that's not about to make anyone want to stop being your friend. I mean, look at how much all of us have changed over the years. None of us are hardly the same people we were when we first met. Fighting a fucking space clown will do that to a person. But we're all still friends."

Richie was watching Eddie's hand where it was running over the cotton of his sleeve. When he finally forced himself to meet Eddie's eyes, Richie said, "So you do miss him."

"This happened to my best friend," Eddie admitted. "More than anything, it infuriates me that anyone put you in this position at all, but…I'm going to be here to help you get back to who you used to be. But if that never quite happens…that's okay too. We're going to adjust to this new normal, and I'm more than willing to get to know this new version of you too. Okay? Nothing will ever make me want to stop being there for you. Not even all this shit those assholes put you through. Not even all the hurt and terror you're buried underneath now, because my best friend is still under there, no matter how you emerge from it. No matter how many scars you end up with because of this. You're…you're still you."

And then it was there, a buried memory bursting into life inside Richie's brain. A crystal clear memory that Richie remembered holding so very dear to him, he couldn't believe that anything could make him forget it at all.

"That's what you said to me when I first came out to you guys," Richie gasped, steadily holding Eddie's gaze even as he felt tears welling up inside them. Even as he felt compelled to look away to try and hide it. But he knew he didn't have to hide anything from Eddie, because Eddie would always love him regardless. He knew that now as well as he knew his own name.

"I did. And it was true then and it's true now," Eddie told him. "And you are my best friend, regardless of how much shit we're forced to go through in our lives. No matter how much that shit changes us and no matter how much we're forced to adapt to it. Because let's face it – I'm hardly the same person that I was when I moved in here, but that didn't make you change your mind about…living with me. Change doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing."

Richie stared at ceiling again, almost as if he was praying to find all the answers for why this had happened to him. "This new me is hardly better than…the man I was before. I'm fucking scared, and I have nightmares and panic attacks, and I have no idea if I'll get even remotely close to being the person I was before."

Eddie reached his hand out farther, letting it settle over where he could feel Richie's heartbeat through his t-shirt. "But you don't need to be, and I'm not going to give up on you for it. None of us are. That's part of what being a friend is all about – helping each other when bad things happen. Not to mention, the last thing I'm about to do is let those assholes win."

That got Richie's attention again, because it wasn't very often that Eddie spoke with such conviction, and it was a little hard to ignore now. "What do you mean?" Richie asked him.

"You remember what we told each other last night?" Eddie asked. "About how we were the best things that ever happened to each other?"

Throat suddenly too tight to speak, Richie could only nod.

"You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me," Eddie said, "because you're still Richie. You're still my best friend, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone take you away from me. Just like I told you this morning, I'm thankful that I didn't lose you to this attack in the first place, because I'm pretty positive it would have broken me. But…losing you in another way would almost be just as bad. I'm not about to lose you as a friend either, because I love what we have together. Yes, this is obviously different than our lives together just a week ago, but…" Eddie trailed off, because they both knew that he didn't have to finish.

Richie, however, took it upon himself. "I'm still Richie. We're still…us"

"Always."

Silence fell between them, but it wasn't intrusive or uncomfortable. It was…nice, like they used to lie like this all the time together. And maybe they did. Maybe they laid in bed and watched TV together all the time before…

Richie wanted nothing more than to turn towards Eddie, to snuggle up against him, but he didn't. Almost didn't want to move for fear of breaking this comfortable calm that had settled between them.

But then the word was out of Richie's mouth before he could stop it. Before he could even process his thoughts and think about what he was saying, because what else was new? It was at least a little bit reassuring that some of the very foundations of Richie's personality were still firmly cemented in place.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

But that was where Richie forced himself to stop, forced himself into silence before he destroyed everything that was happening between himself and Eddie right now. In the end, Richie settled on saying, "Maybe, um…maybe seeing the rest of the Losers would be a good thing, you know? Because you know the right things to say anyway. Maybe…they'll help me too."

Eddie blinked up at him, his large brown eyes shimmering in the lamplight from that one remaining hideous red lamp on the table. "Do I?"

Richie nodded and this time, he did turn over on his side. He didn't quite cuddle into Eddie like he truly wanted to, but only laid there, all of his attention focused on the man he was in love with. Had been in love with for nearly three decades of his life.

"You always know what to say," Richie said. "Even when I'm not exactly sure what it is I want to hear."

"They're not just words either, you know," Eddie told him. "I mean every single fucking thing I've said. I wouldn't do that to you – wouldn't make up a bunch of shit just to make you feel better."

"I know you wouldn't." Eddie's hand was still resting against his upper arm, so Richie reached out for it, letting his fingers settle over top of Eddie's.

They laid like that for a long time, and it was perhaps the strongest urge Richie had ever had to go after what he wanted. To finally reveal his true feelings to Eddie. To lean forward, closing the gap between them, and kissing Eddie like he always dreamed about. The terror he felt, however, at doing so was enough to outweigh the urge, because Richie didn't know what he'd do if he did anything to completely destroy the friendship he had with Eddie. And that was what he was sure would happen if he was honest about the depth of his love for Eddie.

After a while, Eddie cleared his throat, shifting under the covers, like he was getting uncomfortable under Richie's gaze. Then he said, "So I'll call Bill in the morning and let him know that it's a go for everyone to come over. How's Friday sound? Because I think they're going to start leaving Saturday to get back to work on Monday."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Richie agreed, although he still felt anything but confident in seeing all of his friends again.

But they were his friends. He had to keep reminding himself of that, because just as Eddie had reminded him, friends – their friends – weren't judgmental and condescending towards each other. That was why they even became friends in the first place – because they were always completely accepting with one another. Because they found belonging together that they never had anywhere else.

Maybe, maybe they would still be willing to embrace this new and fucked up version of himself just like Eddie had. Just like he knew Eddie always would.

"It'll be okay," Eddie promised him. His hand was still pressed up against Richie's arm, so he squeezed it, the material of Richie's t-shirt bunching up gently between his fingers. "They'll just be happy to see you, and I'm sure that they'll make you feel better. Maybe even better than I am."

"Impossible," Richie said, and for perhaps the first time all day, he grinned. A genuine grin that he felt all the way up around his eyes. "Because if you think that anyone else can make me feel as good as you have been, you're out of your goddamned mind."

"Well, we've already established that I am out of my mind," Eddie retorted, "because I chose to move in with you, didn't I? You said so yourself."

"That's not exactly what I said," Richie argued. "I just…said you were a dumbass for deciding that that was the best course of action."

"Well," Eddie conceded, "I think I decided that it couldn't be any worse than marrying Myra, and…it really wasn't. It's…been nice."

"Nice despite the fact that I've turned our home into a crime scene?"

"Those assholes did that," Eddie said firmly. "Not you, Rich, okay? Nothing about this has ever been or will ever be your fault."

Richie sighed, still trying to make himself believe the words Eddie spoke, because he knew that Eddie would never lie to him. "I know," Richie finally agreed. "And I know that we decided in all probability, it was just some random attack, but I keep wondering. I keep wondering if they were after something in particular by coming here. If they were after me."

"And that would still be their fault. Not yours. Never yours." Eddie lifted his hand from where it was still gripping Richie's upper arm. He reached out, pressing his palm against Richie's cheek, against the stubble there. "Okay?"

Richie nodded, and he couldn't help his own hand from coming up to grip the back of Eddie's on his cheek. It was almost like a reflex action, something that he had done time and time again, even though he couldn't recall ever doing so. But here he was, his hand springing up to cup Eddie's, almost compelled to by some unseen force that Richie could neither identify nor explain.

"So I've been thinking," Eddie said then, and Richie was almost caught a little off guard. He had been expecting Eddie to pull his hand away, to pull away from Richie, but he didn't. In fact, the only part of Eddie that moved was his thumb, letting it drag over Richie's stubble before he let it come to rest overtop of Richie's pinky.

Richie could feel his breath, his heartbeat quickening, but he tried desperately to keep his mind on the topic of conversation. "About what?"

"About something else that could help you," Eddie said. "You know, besides me."

"Like what?"

"What's something you've wanted for your entire life?"

"Ahh," Richie fumbled with his words, because the only answer to that question was Eddie himself. His heartbeat sped up even more, and he was grateful for the fact that Eddie had moved his hand away from Richie's shoulder, away from his heart so he couldn't possibly feel it. Couldn't possibly feel Richie's heart pounding against his ribs. Richie only hoped to god that Eddie couldn't feel Richie's ridiculously fast breath against his hand.

Richie huffed out a breath, trying desperately to make it sound like a laugh, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Um," Richie spat out, trying so hard to come up with an answer to Eddie's question that sounded even remotely plausible. "To be a rich and famous comedian," Richie finally blurted out, "which I've sort of achieved. I guess. But…that doesn't really help me now, does it? In fact, that may be what's gotten me into his mess in the first place." Richie could feel the frown overtaking his face, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Not that," Eddie said quickly, clearly trying to keep Richie's thoughts from delving back into the darkness that threatened to consume more often than not these days. "Something else that you've told me about on more than one occasion."

"Um," Richie tried again, blinking up at Eddie. If this was something he told Eddie about, then it certainly did narrow down any possible responses to that question. He eventually just shook his head, because he had absolutely no clue what Eddie was even getting at.

"How would you feel about possibly getting a dog?" Eddie's eyes were sparkling, a smile spreading across his lips, almost like a little kid speculating about what he could be getting on Christmas.

As much as Richie's pulse quickened even more at Eddie's words – and Jesus Christ, Eddie was going to give him a heart attack one of these days – he knew that Eddie couldn't possibly be serious. "A dog?!" Richie asked incredulously, managing to snort out a laugh this time. "You fucking hate dogs. Don't tell me you don't."

Eddie rolled his eyes before he said, "I don't hate dogs. I never said I did. You just assume like an ass. I hate the germs and diseases they could possibly carry around, that's all."

"Same difference," Richie argued. "I wouldn't want to bring something into this house that's going to give you constant panic attacks."

"I'm better now," Eddie said firmly. "You know I am. You've helped me to be better. I hardly have panic attacks over little things like germs anymore, and when was the last time you've even seen me use my inhaler?"

Richie frowned at that, because he wasn't quite sure. He knew that he hadn't even seen Eddie with his inhaler since he had woken up in the hospital. When Eddie had last used it, however, he couldn't say.

"Because I don't use it anymore," Eddie told him. "At all. I still have one in the bathroom cabinet just in case, but I haven't touched it since…for a long time." Eddie bit at his bottom lip before he added, "Not even that night I came home to find you…and if that's not enough to send me over the edge, then I think I can handle a dog."

"But…" Richie tried, but he was completely dumbfounded at Eddie's words. "I don't…What made you change your mind? Because you've always been vehemently opposed to any sort of animals since we were little."

"I told you," Eddie said. "I've been thinking about how much a dog might help you now, you know? And they always say that a pet can help to lower stress and blood pressure, so who knows? It might even be a good thing for me too. And…I thought maybe you'd feel safer having a dog around the house, because they can provide protection too. Just as long as we both keep on top of cleaning up after it and he doesn't bring anything gross into the house."

Richie snickered. "We can teach him to wipe his paws on the mat before coming inside."

Finally disengaging his hand from Richie's cheek, Eddie swatted softly at Richie's shoulder, at the area just above his heart. Richie was fairly certain Eddie could feel it still pounding wildly in his chest at everything that was happening between them. Everything that Eddie was offering to him right now.

"I'm being serious," Eddie said, his gaze not wavering from Richie's. "Dead serious. I was doing some research-"

"Oh, then I definitely know you're serious if you've done research."

"Shut up," Eddie scolded, thumping his hand lightly against Richie's shoulder again. "Do you want a dog or not?"

Richie swallowed. "You know I do. Since I was little." Almost as much as I want you, Richie thought, but didn't say.

"Then shut up before I change my mind," Eddie warned. "But it'll need to be trained, and I thought that would give you something to focus on. Since you're not going to be working for a while, and comedy isn't exactly coming as easily to you right now…it could help you to have a goal to work towards."

Richie found himself smiling, feeling it growing larger and larger across his lips. As much as he loved his parents and as much as he knew they loved him, that was one thing they never allowed him – a pet. They had just always thought that it was a responsibility that Richie would eventually tire of, something that would fall onto their shoulders, even though Richie knew that couldn't be further from the truth. He'd wanted a dog desperately for nearly his entire life – even longer than he wanted Eddie – and that included all of the work and responsibilities that came with it.

When Richie had finally moved out on his own, he played with the idea of getting a dog, but then his career had started to take off. He went on tour a good amount of the time, and in between work itself, he decided that a dog just wasn't feasible for a busy bachelor. Even though he couldn't remember it now, Richie knew that having Eddie move in had been the end of that dream, since Eddie was so opposed to animals.

But now…

"Are you really fucking serious?" Richie asked him, because he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had the urge to pinch himself to make sure he was awake, and truth be told, even if it was a dream, it was a nice change from the nightmares he'd been having.

"If you're absolutely certain it's something you want," Eddie said, "then yes. I looked up some of the shelters in the area, and there's one not far from here that has a bunch of dogs I thought you'd at least want to go and look at. Even if…we don't find one that's a good fit for us, it could be fun to go and look, you know?"

Richie felt his insides tingling from excitement, and he almost had the urge to jump up from the bed and bounce around the room like a little child. "Can we?"

"Absolutely. Again, if it's something you're entirely sure about."

"I'm sure," Richie insisted breathlessly. "I've been certain all my life. I've wanted a dog for as long as…since forever. I'm sure. A million percent."

"There's no such thing as a million percent, dumbass," Eddie bit back, "but if you really, really want to, then we can get a dog. We can go and look this week in fact, if you'd like."

"I'd like," Richie reiterated. "I'd like to very much." It even felt like Richie's inside might be thrumming in excitement. "Although this was kind of a dumb time to tell me, considering I probably won't be able to sleep now."

Eddie smiled. "I'm just happy to see you so excited about something now. It's…been a long time."

"Yeah," Richie agreed. "And maybe you're right. Maybe it will end up being a good thing for both of us."

"So did you want to watch a movie then?" Eddie asked after a while, going back to flipping through the channels. "Help to quell some of your excitement and settle you down?"

"Mm," Richie hummed in agreement. He shifted slightly closer to Eddie, his head almost resting on Eddie's pillow. Almost, but not quite. He curled up so he could see the television screen and let out a contented breath.

There were so many feelings and emotions currently coursing through him, Richie wasn't entirely sure where one began and the next one started. He was fucking jumping out of his own skin at the possibility of getting a dog, but a part of that was probably also from lying in bed with Eddie. It wasn't like they were doing anything or even touching, but something about their current position was thrilling to Richie all the same.

It was comforting too, being able to lay so close to Eddie. To be able to feel his own body heat radiating out towards him under the covers. It wasn't quite everything that Richie wanted from him, but he knew that it would have to do. Knew that it would have to be enough.

Underneath all of that though, he was nervous too. He was scared about seeing the rest of the Losers now that he wasn't in the hospital any longer. About how they'd think he was doing in his healing, even though he knew that his friends would never judge him for struggling like he was.

But then…there was something else nagging at the back of Richie's mind. Considering the fact that Bill would be coming over near the end of the week, Richie desperately wanted to ask him something. Something that he wondered if he'd ever asked Bill before. Something that he was scared to death to reveal, but a question that Richie knew he had to ask.

The only problem with Richie's plan was that Bill was Eddie's next best friend. If Richie asked him something extremely personal, then could he trust Bill to keep things between them? Could he trust Bill to not say anything to Eddie about it?

Richie wasn't entirely sure, but he was fairly certain he was willing to take that chance. It felt like his question was burning a hole inside his mind, struggling and fighting to get out. If Richie didn't acknowledge it soon, it might just burst out of him at the most inopportune moment, and then he'd really be screwed.

To be continued…

Author's note: Just some noneventful fluff that's necessary in setting up some of the drama that's on its way. Hold onto your seats, because it's about to get crazy.