Author's note: In honor of James Ransone's 42nd birthday, one of the men who helped to inspire this story, I give you the longest chapter in this story thus far. I considered splitting it up at some point, but decided that it fit better as one. I hope you enjoy!

The Space Between Us
Chapter 14 – Confessions

For the fourth morning in a row, Eddie woke up to Richie cuddled up against him. Richie's head was cradled on Eddie's shoulder, his arm tightly wrapped around Eddie's waist. Richie was snoring softly and a puddle of drool had collected on the front of Eddie's red t-shirt.

Eddie, however, smiled and curled his arm around Richie's shoulder, holding him close. Burying his nose into Richie's hair – something he would only do when Richie was asleep now – Eddie sighed in contentment. Normally, things like snoring and other people's drool on him would have pushed Eddie's anxiety into overdrive, but as long as Richie was sleeping peacefully, then Eddie didn't give a fuck if Richie snored up a storm and covered everything in drool.

But Eddie dreaded the moment when Richie would wake up and discover that he had sought out Eddie's touch at some point during the night. Again. Despite Eddie's insistence that it was perfectly okay, Richie's face would burn with embarrassment and he would rush off to the bathroom. They would never speak about it during the day, but the next morning, they'd go through the same exact routine. Wash, rinse, and repeat.

For now, Eddie reveled in Richie's warmth around him, in having Richie perfectly safe and content in his arms.

"Oh, Rich," Eddie whispered, softly kissing the top of Richie's head. He paused, listening for Richie's quiet snore. When he was confident that Richie was still asleep, Eddie added, "Please. Please remember us. Because you were right. I miss this. I miss us. Like you wouldn't believe."

Struggling to contain a small sob that threatened to escape him, Eddie wondered if he was taking advantage of this situation. Taking advantage of the fact that Richie was sleeping to be extra close to him. To bury his nose in Richie's hair like he would never dare to do now when Richie was awake.

But Eddie couldn't quite help it. If he closed his eyes tight enough and laid there quietly with Richie, he could almost, almost pretend that it was just another lazy morning in their marriage. Maybe this was even how Eddie would have woken up on that Saturday morning that had never happened – the one they had planned on spending the entirety of in bed, trying to outdo the sex they'd had the day before.

And then all at once, the spell was broken. Richie jerked slightly in his arms before pulling away and sitting up in one sudden movement. He glanced at Eddie, checking to make sure he was awake too before he started apologizing, like he had committed some horrible crime.

"S-Sorry," Richie muttered, rubbing at his eyes and reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. He scooted towards the edge of the bed before Eddie stopped him.

"Rich," Eddie said, laying his hand softly over Richie's arm. "Don't be. I told you, I don't mind." He offered Richie the warmest smile he could, not moving from his pillow.

Eddie could see Richie swallowing, fumbling with his glasses as he settled them on his nose. He bit at his bottom lip, his cheeks turning that familiar shade of red as he glanced down at the floor.

"It's…nice actually," Eddie added, gently tightening his hand around Richie's arm. "To wake up and feel so…needed." He paused for a very long time, not sure if he should say the word that was really hovering on the tip of his tongue. In the end, he forced it out before he could stop himself. Forced it out before he could censor himself, because he wanted Richie to know how he felt. "Wanted."

That word didn't do anything to settle Richie's nerves, because his cheeks only changed to a deeper shade of crimson. He fidgeted around on the mattress and cleared his throat, apparently not sure what to do with himself all of a sudden.

"Rich?" Eddie asked, sitting up slowly. He wanted to move closer to his husband, but he hesitated. "Can…you talk to me about this? I…hate that you wake up feeling so uncomfortable and embarrassed when it's very clearly something that helps you sleep. And that's okay."

"I'm not uncomfortable," Richie said quickly, but then he diverted his eyes away towards the floor again. "I'm not embarrassed."

"You're sure acting like it."

"I'm not," Richie reiterated. "Not in the way you think." For a moment, Richie looked like he was going to say something, but then his breath caught in his throat. He sucked in a sharp breath before pressing a hand over his mouth, like he had to physically contain his words.

"Okay." Eddie inched a tiny bit closer, letting his hand fall from Richie's arm. "In what way?"

"Because I feel like I shouldn't be doing this!"

"D-Doing what?" Eddie was confused. He understood that Richie felt like he shouldn't need the kind of help that he was craving right now, but why was he acting like they were doing something illicit? Like they were a cheating couple hiding the secrets of their love affair from their respective spouses.

"This!" Richie cried, throwing his arms up in the air. They came down hard on the mattress, and Eddie felt the vibrations from the box spring underneath. When Richie spoke again, his voice was softer, pleading now. "I can't do this anymore." He met Eddie's eyes again, his own large and round behind his glasses.

Richie almost looked terrified, like he had when he had awoken from one of his nightmares, but Eddie had no idea what was currently eliciting this response from Richie. From what Eddie could tell, he didn't have a nightmare or a flashback. Or if he had, he was doing an awfully good job of hiding it from Eddie. Besides, wasn't Richie past the point of trying to cover it up now? After what they'd been sharing over the last few days, Eddie thought that they were making breakthroughs in being honest with each other.

"Richie, talk to me," Eddie pleaded, moving even closer to Richie, but not daring to touch him again. "You can't do what anymore?"

"This!" Richie snapped again. His eyes were watering behind his glasses, which he pushed out of the way to swipe at his tears. "I can't keep pretending like this is…normal. Like I don't feel mortified at the thought of…needing you in the same bed to even sleep."

"But we talked about this-"

"And you can reassure me all you want that it's perfectly fine," Richie cut him off, "but I know it's not. I know it isn't and it'll never be. Because I'm a fucking grown man and you're more than welcome to go back to your own bed if it'll make you feel better." Richie pushed himself off the bed and started rummaging around in the dresser.

"But it won't," Eddie tried, but Richie didn't even acknowledge him.

Once Richie had successfully procured a clean outfit for that day, he immediately headed for the door. "I'm going to take a shower," he muttered without even bothering to turn around. A moment later, he was gone.

Eddie opened his mouth to call after him, but he let his voice die in his throat. He knew that pressuring Richie to talk about his feelings right now would only succeed in making him more uncomfortable and cause him to shut down more. It was best to allow Richie time to cool down before attempting to broach the subject again. The only problem was that this had been happening for four days straight and they still hadn't discussed or resolved anything.

As it was, Eddie couldn't see Richie wanting to discuss this with him at all. He was only evading the subject more and more, and this was the first time that Richie had more or less told Eddie to go back to 'his' own room.

Sighing and hanging his head, Eddie stared down into his lap, at his hands laying there uselessly. Was Richie disgusted by him? Was that really what it was? Was Richie grossed out by simply being in the same room with him, let alone the same bed? Maybe he was and that was overriding Richie's current need to have some sort of human comfort while he slept. Or maybe something was going on inside Richie's mind and he would be shying away from anyone's touch, regardless of who that person was. After all, Richie had already talked about how needing companionship to sleep made him feel stupid as it was. Eddie supposed that was a distinct possibility, but somehow, it didn't feel like it.

If only Richie would talk to him about what he was feeling.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to go to Richie then and there, to take Richie in his arms and reassure him everything was going to be okay. Richie, however, wouldn't even let Eddie touch him right now, so that obviously wasn't going to happen. His own husband couldn't even stand his partner's touch and that was something they'd never had an issue with before.

Never.

Even before they had gotten together, sneaking touches had never been something they'd ever shied away from. Eddie could still remember the way they'd used that hammock in the clubhouse when they were children, constantly fighting each other for it and trying to pretend they weren't doing it on purpose. Acting like they didn't thrive on feeling each other's sun-warmed skin underneath their fingertips. The way they only settled down into the fabric once they were comfortably and suitably slotted against one another. Like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their mate.

And now his husband couldn't bear to touch him. Couldn't bear to take the help that Eddie was offering and Richie so desperately craved at the moment.

Eddie hung his head even lower, burying his face in his hands and letting out a sob that he simply couldn't hold in anymore.

Richie turned his face upwards into the spray from the showerhead, willing himself to calm down from the breakdown he'd almost had in front of Eddie. The breakdown that had been building up inside him since this entire ordeal had started and had finally begun to explode out of him.

How in god's name Richie had managed to live in this house with Eddie for a fucking year without letting on to how he felt was driving him mad. When Richie had been released from the hospital, he was certain that he'd be able to keep things platonic, to go on pretending like Eddie was nothing more than a friend to him. After all, he'd been doing it for a year, so it couldn't be that hard, could it?

But it had barely even been a week of living in the same house with Eddie and Richie already felt like pulling his hair out in frustration. The urge to touch Eddie, to be close to him felt like it was boiling underneath Richie's skin and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to keep on pretending like everything was normal. Like he was simply sharing a house with his best friend, because that couldn't be further from the truth.

He was roommates with a man that he loved desperately. A man that he knew was his soulmate, his other half, because Richie had never had these feelings for anyone before in his life. And there was absolutely nothing Richie could to about it. Not unless he wanted to lose the best friend he'd ever had in his life.

What in the hell was Richie supposed to do? Go on trying to pretend like everything was normal even though it was killing him? Or risk losing the best thing that had ever happened to him?

Digging his fingernails into wet tiles, letting the water drip down around him, Richie let out a sob, hoping that the running water would be enough to hide the noise from Eddie.

This was fucking bad. Richie had the rest of the Losers in front of him, trying their very best to put Richie into a better mood, but all Richie could think about was Eddie. How he and Eddie had left things that morning, because they'd barely spoken since. They'd gone through the motions of the day, eating and watching television in uncomfortable near-silences, which was something that Richie was pretty sure they'd never experienced together before. Even when they were quiet, there was never anything unbearably uncomfortable about it. Until now.

Under the guise of getting himself something else to drink, Richie wandered into the kitchen where it was quieter. Eddie had been right and Richie didn't feel judged in the least by the rest of their friends, but Richie was tired and he had a headache. It seemed as if he wasn't quite up to socializing like he used to, neither mentally or physically.

Richie went to the cabinet to get his pain meds before refilling his glass with water from the refrigerator. He had swallowed the pills and was downing the glass when he heard Bill ask him a question.

"Are you all right?"

Richie turned around, setting his glass down on the island counter. He nodded before taking a seat in one of the barstools. "Just tired," Richie said, burying his head in his hand. If only that was the least of his problems. "I appreciate that everyone wanted to come and see me, but I'm not sure if I was quite ready for…all of this socialization right now. I…feel a little bit overwhelmed with it all."

Especially given the fact that things were awkward between he and Eddie at best.

"That's what I told everyone," Bill said, taking a seat next to Richie. "Sorry, but…they just wanted to see you. I'll see what I can do about getting everyone the fuck out of here in a reasonable timeframe."

Richie smiled, because at least he knew that his friends had his back and were looking out for him. "Don't worry about it. I know we don't get to see each other that often, and I'm just sorry I'm not exactly in the best of moods right now."

"You've been through a lot," Bill said understandingly. He hesitated for a while before he added, "You do seem to be doing better though."

Richie stared at Bill sideways. "Do I?" Richie asked, because he was pretty sure that this was the worst he'd felt since he came home from the hospital. Even with everything else going on, at least things with Eddie had been relaxed and comfortable before. Now he didn't even have that.

"Yeah, man," Bill said. "You're much calmer than the last time I saw you, and Eddie says you've been sleeping through the night now."

"I have," Richie mumbled, but he wondered if that would continue to be true. Since he had more or less told Eddie to go back to his own room, Richie didn't know how on earth he was going to continue to sleep soundlessly. Not anymore. On the other hand, he didn't know if having Eddie in his bed would make things any better; when Eddie was close to him, it was only making it harder for Richie to pretend like he didn't want to take Eddie in his arms for entirely different reasons and kiss him.

In fact, he wanted to kiss Eddie so badly that it was invading his waking thoughts more and more. Richie wasn't even sure if he preferred those thoughts over thinking about everything else that had happened to him, and that thought was truly making him feel like he was going crazy. If he preferred thoughts of his perpetrators and the fact that he had almost died over Eddie, then Richie was well and truly fucked up in the head.

"Sleeping isn't really a problem anymore," Richie said as much for Bill's benefit as his own peace of mind. Maybe if he said things enough, he'd actually start to believe them. "I guess that doing something proactive like going to the police with a description of at least one of those assholes has helped, even though I was terrified that it wouldn't. It…feels good to take a stand like that, you know? And I suppose that having police officers outside the house has done wonders for my peace of mind. At least I know that no one's coming in here if I don't want them to." Richie let out a heavy sigh before he added, "I just…wish they'd start getting some leads. I'd feel a lot fucking better than I do if they had any idea at all who did this."

"They will," Bill told him reassuringly. He reached out and laid a comforting hand on Richie's arm. "Wasn't today the first time they've started showing that portrait on TV?" When Richie nodded in response, Bill said, "So it hasn't been out there that long. Leads will start coming in once more people have seen it."

Richie shrugged. "I guess. That's what Eddie keeps telling me, but…it's hard for me to be so positive about it." He hung his head, staring down at his hands in his lap. "Just like people are telling me that I seem better, but…I don't feel like it."

"That makes sense," Bill replied. "It can be hard to always see the big picture, but…I see it – that change in you since you were in the hospital."

That was two people telling Richie now that he seemed to be making progress, so he supposed that that counted for something. That was what Richie had to keep telling himself.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Bill suddenly said, "Eddie mentioned that you two were going to start looking for a dog. Any luck on that front?"

Richie shook his head almost miserably, because he wasn't quite as excited about that as he had been either. "We went to the shelter the other day, but…I don't feel like I connected with any of the dogs. But we filled out an application and we're going to go back. I don't know if we'll find anything, but…I really want one, Bill." Richie raised his eyes to his friend, trying desperately to blink away the tears that had welled up there.

Smiling somberly, Bill answered, "You'll find one. It can take some time, but don't settle if none of them seem right. I'm sure the perfect dog for you is out there, and he just hasn't arrived at the shelter yet. But he will."

That, at least, gave Richie something to smile about. It kind of gave him warm fuzzies to think about the fact that his dog was out there waiting for him. Looking for his perfect forever home. But still, there was something hovering at the back of Richie's mind – a feeling that he couldn't quite shake.

"So you don't think it's because I'm incapable of connecting with a dog?" Richie asked.

Bill frowned deeply. "No, I don't. Why would I think that? More importantly, why would you think that?"

"Because," Richie said around a heavy sigh. "I'm fucked up in here now." He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, rubbing it and closing his eyes, like that would force him to wake up from this nightmare. "I'm fucked up."

"You're not fucked up," Bill said insistently. He leaned in closer, now laying his hand on Richie's shoulder. "You've been through shit that would take its toll on anyone, but you're healing. And you're going to continue to get better. Nothing about this defines you, okay? Just like what we went through with that damn clown doesn't define any of us. And that may have taken a while – to work through everything that happened – but we have. I've come to terms with Georgie's death, you've been able to come out publicly, and Eddie's learned how to be his own person rather than just an extension of his mother or Myra. You're going to be able to work through this too."

Lowering his hand back to the counter, Richie stared straight ahead at the refrigerator across the room. "I just…feel like something inside me might be broken now. 'Cause I can't even socialize or connect with my best fucking friends in the world right now."

"Hey," Bill said, tilting his head so that Richie would see him, would look him in the eye. "We're connecting now. Don't you think that's what we're doing?"

Richie shrugged again, still unable to hold Bill's gaze. He stared long and hard at his lap before he admitted, "I guess."

"So you may not feel up to being in a bigger group right now," Bill conceded, "but I certainly don't think that means you're fucked up. You just feel more comfortable being one on one with someone maybe. I mean, you've been connecting with Eddie since all this happened, haven't you?"

Biting at his lower lip, Richie nodded, because yes, that much was true. At least, it had been, because Richie wasn't sure if that would continue on going forward, especially considering what had transpired between them that morning. Which led Richie to the question that he had been burning to ask Bill. The one that had been hanging over his head for days now, ever since Eddie had sprung the idea for this get-together on him.

Straightening up, Richie leaned back in his chair, meeting Bill's eyes fully for the first time during their conversation. He squared his shoulders and tried his best to appear confident, because he felt anything but.

"Bill?" Richie asked quietly, making sure that no one in the living room could possibly hear what he was saying. "I know Eddie's your best friend, but…if I asked you a very personal question, can you promise that it would stay between us?"

"Of course," Bill replied without missing a beat. "Just because he's my best friend doesn't mean I tell him everything."

"What if it's about him?"

"That still doesn't mean I'd break your confidence," Bill insisted. He paused a moment just before he added, "Whatever it is, you can ask me. And yes, I promise it'll stay between us."

Drawing a deep breath, Richie stared up at ceiling before letting it out. "Does…does Eddie ever talk about me?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. If he didn't do it now, he knew he never would.

Bill let out a snort. "Are you kidding? He never shuts up about you. You have to know that by now."

"No, but…I don't just mean as a friend." Richie met his friend's gaze once again, because he wanted Bill to know that he was dead serious about this. "Has he ever talked about me in…that way? You know…like you talk about Audra, or Ben and Bev talk about each other?" he muttered as examples, because he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words themselves.

Bill only stared at him at first. Richie could see him swallowing before he pressed his lips tightly together. "Have you asked him if he thinks about you in that way?" Bill said.

"No," Richie bit out. "Jesus Christ, I can't. He's my best friend, and I'm terrified that this'll fuck shit up between us in the worst way possible. That's why I'm asking you."

"So you're saying that you have feelings for him."

Richie scoffed, because that was quite possibly one of the dumbest questions anyone had ever asked him. Richie didn't quite want to spell things out, but he knew he was too far in; no matter what he said now, Bill would never let it go. "That's putting it mildly," Richie forced out, pressing a hand over his eyes in embarrassment. "I'm fucking in love with him, okay?" When he lowered his hand from his eyes, he admitted, "I have been since I was thirteen, and I'm really not sure how I've hidden it from him for so long, because I feel like it's making me crazy. And I really don't know what to do about it, because I told you – it's just going to fuck things up between us."

Bill seemed to consider this before he shrugged in response. "Maybe not."

Staring at him incredulously, Richie asked, "So has he said anything?"

There was a strange expression on Bill's face, like he was simultaneously amused and almost horrified by Richie's questions. "I can't answer that," Bill said, shaking his head.

"So he has said something!" Richie turned in the barstool, fully facing Bill now. "If he didn't, you would just say no!"

Bill opened his mouth to reply only to close it again. He pressed his lips together again and closed his eyes. "Just like I wouldn't break your trust…I won't break Eddie's either."

"Holy shit," was all Richie could say, because all it once, it felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath him. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but that was exactly what Bill was doing, and he didn't think Bill would do so unless there was something to be excited about. Richie had spent so long convincing himself that Eddie couldn't share his feeling in the least, but now…was that what Bill was hinting at? Was it possible that Richie wasn't alone in his feelings? That the one thing that Richie wanted the most in his life was an actual possibility?

It was surreal.

"Ask him about it," Bill insisted, pulling Richie from his thoughts. "I know that concept is terrifying to you, but…I think you'll feel better if you do."

"You make it sound so easy," Richie muttered, running his hands harshly over his face. "Like I'm asking what he wants for dinner. 'Hey, Eds, I've been in love with you forever. What do you think about that?'"

"I'd tell you to do it much more tactfully than that," Bill said, "but I'm not sure if you'd know what that means if it bit you in the ass."

Richie let out a quiet laugh, and that felt nice considering that it wasn't something that he did all that often anymore. In some ways though, Bill was right, because Richie's thoughts were swirling around in his head so furiously, he couldn't quite make sense of them. Richie didn't even know how to articulate his thoughts properly, let alone in a tactful way.

He was certain he was going to make a complete ass of himself, but Richie had been doing that all his life anyway, so what difference did it make?

At least that was what he kept telling himself.

True to his word, Bill had done his very best to get the rest of the Losers out of the house in a timely fashion. It was just before midnight when Eddie closed the door after the last of them, which wasn't too bad, all things considered.

It wasn't that Richie didn't want to spend time with his friends, of course. He wasn't quite in the proper headspace to be up for larger gatherings yet. He was still too prone to headaches and negative moods to be much fun in a group anyway. As Bill had said, Richie felt much more comfortable being one on one with someone right now. Richie didn't blame his friends for wanting to see him and cheer him up, but perhaps he'd feel more up for such gatherings in a few more months' time.

Once things had settled down more, even though Richie wondered if he would ever get to that point. There was still so much to be done in terms of the investigation, and there was the possibility that they might never catch the people who had done this to him. Richie couldn't imagine that – couldn't imagine being years removed from the attack only for the perpetrators to still be out there without any idea who they were.

The thought made Richie shiver, so he turned his thoughts to much more pressing matters, even though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to think about those either. Bill had told him to just come clean to Eddie, and Richie wanted nothing more than to do just that, to have everything out in the open, but he was terrified of what would happen if he did. Scared to death that he would completely shatter what relationship he and Eddie even had left.

In the end, Richie's fears were completely right, but not in the way he thought.

When Eddie returned to the living room after letting the last of their guests out, it was to see Richie sitting on the couch. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees as he wrung his hands together.

"So, um," Eddie tried, desperately attempting to break the tension that had settled between them that morning and had persisted throughout the day. "Do you want to get ready for bed and then watch TV for a while? Or how about a snack?"

Raising his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, Richie shook his head. "No."

Eddie was almost terrified that Richie was about to tell him that he didn't want to do anything else together, that he just wanted to go to bed and forget that that day had even happened. Richie, however, asked him a question that Eddie hadn't been expecting at all.

"Can…we just talk?"

"Yeah," Eddie gasped out, relief flooding through him. If Richie was ready to talk about what had been bothering him recently, then Eddie was more than ready to listen. Slowly approaching the couch, Eddie sat down on the far end, careful not to crowd Richie at all. "What did you want to talk about?"

Richie rubbed his hands together, avoiding Eddie's gaze again. "I…sort of talked to Bill about this a little bit tonight," he finally admitted, "and he told me to just come clean with you."

"Okay," Eddie said, all too aware of how much his voice was shaking as he spoke. "And I agree with him. I told you that you can tell me anything, and you don't need to be afraid of how I'll react."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes. Rich…you can tell me anything at all."

"Can…can you promise that you won't hate me?"

Eddie found himself smiling despite the seriousness of the conversation. If there was one thing that Eddie could promise, it was this. "I could never hate you. Never." He almost felt the urge to blurt out 'I love you' then and there, but he was able to wrangle those words back in before they passed his lips.

"And we'll always be friends?"

Finally scootching closer on the sofa, Eddie said, "Always." He wanted to reach out and thread his fingers through Richie's, but he was able to contain that urge too.

"And nothing will ever change between us, no matter what I say?" Richie asked, and that was when he lifted his gaze to meet Eddie's again. "Although I think that's kind of impossible now."

"What's impossible?"

"I just don't want to lose you as a friend," Richie said, his voice pleading. "I don't want you to hate me."

"Believe me," Eddie said, smiling once again, "if your regular obnoxious self isn't enough to make me hate you, then nothing will."

Richie let out a soft breath of laughter. "So I've been told."

"Remember what I told you that night you came home from the hospital?" Eddie asked him, taking a chance in moving even closer. He still didn't touch Richie, even though he was almost dying to. "You've been a pain in my ass since we were six years old, but we're still friends. We'll always be friends. Nothing's ever going to change that. That's what's impossible."

"Impossible," Richie echoed.

Eddie nodded. "Yes. Promise." Eddie gave him the most reassuring smile he could.

Richie rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans, like he was working up his courage. A moment later, he stood up, pacing to the other side of the room. He stared out the windows at the darkened yard beyond, not daring to face Eddie right now.

Eddie wanted to say something reassuring, to tell Richie once again that he could be honest, but he didn't. Richie was fidgeting and obviously working up his courage, so Eddie let him be. Let him work through his feelings and come clean in his own time.

When Richie spoke again, his voice was shaking. "I had every intention of hiding this from you for the rest of my life, but I can't do it anymore. I can't do it anymore." He had hung his head, and even without seeing his face, Eddie could tell he was crying.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to go to Richie, to take him in his arms and let him know that everything was going to be okay. Again, however, Eddie forced himself to stay put, allowing Richie to come to terms with what he needed to say in his own way.

Finally able to get his tears under control again, Richie wiped away the remnants from his face. Then all at once, he spoke and Eddie was left wondering when he had fallen asleep, because this suddenly felt like a dream.

"I love you," Richie blurted out. "Holy shit, I love you so fucking much."

Eddie had heard the words loud and clear, but he asked for clarification anyway. "What?" It was more of a way to voice his shock and surprise than anything else.

"I love you," Richie repeated, much louder this time. "And not like friends should love each other." Richie finally turned around, his face red, although Eddie wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or from his earlier tears. "I'm in love with you. I have been since I was thirteen years old." Richie was visibly shaking, his eyes larger and wider than Eddie thought he had ever seen them.

Eddie knew that he should start to furiously reassure Richie, because this was in no way unwelcome, but Eddie needed a damn minute to process things. He didn't know what he had been expecting Richie to say, but this definitely wasn't it. Never in a million years did Eddie expect Richie to come right out with his feelings like this. The very first time their feelings for each other had come to light, Eddie had been the one to broach the subject. Not that he blamed Richie for that in the least; Richie just had a harder time talking about his feelings in such a way. It was why he had spent forty fucking years of his life in the closet.

But this…Richie had finally decided that enough was enough; he was going to express his feelings for Eddie, consequences be damned. Before the attack had happened, Eddie knew that Richie loved him, but this made his heart feel like it was swelling impossibly huge in his chest. Richie loved Eddie so much that he couldn't live another day without expressing those feelings, and Eddie wasn't sure if he had ever felt so touched by one of Richie's actions before. Just that very morning, Eddie had been sure that Richie hated him, was disgusted by him. But now…

Pushing himself up from the couch, Eddie was only vaguely aware of the fact that his legs were shaking. His breathing was hard and fast, his heart doing weird things inside his chest; first it felt like it was flipping over and over only to stop and start beating so fucking fast, he thought it might explode. If he didn't know any better, he thought he might be having a heart attack. But no, it was just the love of his life admitting his feelings all over again. Like they hadn't been through this once already.

Eddie wanted to say something, anything to reassure Richie that everything that was happening was perfectly okay. Words, however, seemed to be escaping him at the moment, being pressed out of his body by his impossibly swollen heart. In the end, he decided that actions spoke louder than words anyway.

Making his way across the carpet on quivering feet, Eddie wasted no time in reaching up and wrapping his arms around Richie's neck. That, however, didn't seem like enough, so Eddie hung on for dear life, lifting his feet up off the carpet. He wrapped his legs around Richie's waist and hugged him so tightly, like Richie would disappear from his grasp if he loosened it.

Burying his face against Richie's neck, Eddie wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. A strange and strangled noise escaped his throat a moment later, making Eddie's mind up for him; it was a little bit of both, his soft laugh being overridden by a hiccup before he let out a sob. It was quite possibly the strangest surge of feelings he had ever felt in his life.

"Holy shit," Richie gasped out. He stumbled backwards a bit from the weight of Eddie clinging to him, but then was able to steady himself. His arms went to Eddie's waist and under his ass, helping to support his weight against him.

The only other time Eddie could recall Richie holding him like this was on their honeymoon. Richie had just finished fucking him into the wall before Eddie had collapsed against him, letting Richie carry him to the bed. Richie's arms around him were so tender now just as they had been then, and Eddie loved the feeling of safety and security that it gave him. Even though he knew that they still had so much to talk about, so much to work through, Eddie didn't think he'd ever get tired of simply being held by Richie. Being home and protected.

Richie swallowed, his own voice shaking when he asked, "So I guess this means you don't hate me, huh?"

Richie was full of dumbass questions, but this one took the cake. Eddie could only giggle before pulling away slightly so that he could look Richie in the eye. Eddie released Richie's neck, placing his hands on Richie's cheeks, the stubble pressing lightly into his skin.

"I love you, you dumbass," Eddie admitted, a grin overtaking his features. At the same time, however, tears had welled up in his eyes and spilled over his cheeks before he could scarcely process what was happening. "And not like friends should either. I've been in love with you for what feels like forever. Always have been, always will be."

Eddie had never wanted to kiss Richie more in his life, but he forced himself to hold back. Richie was already very clearly struggling to process everything that was happening, and Eddie didn't want to give him even more to grapple with.

Richie's breath was hard and warm against Eddie's nose, his lips. His eyes went down to Eddie's lips, like he was considering the very same thing Eddie was before forcing his eyes up to Eddie's own again.

"Yeah?" Richie's voice was soft, hopeful.

Not able to find his voice at the moment, Eddie only nodded. But then Eddie steeled himself, forcing himself to answer, to give Richie the more concrete reassurance he was looking for. "Yeah," Eddie said around a breath. "Always."

"Holy shit."

Eddie giggled again, a small sound rumbling somewhere low in his chest. "I know."

"So, um…where do we go from here?" Richie asked, blinking up at Eddie. "I mean…what does that mean for us now? Are we…together now or…?" Richie slowly trailed off, struggling to voice his thoughts. "Holy shit, this is a lot to process."

Swallowing hard, Eddie gently disengaged his legs from Richie's waist. He released it, Richie letting him go until Eddie's feet were safely back on the carpet. He had known this moment was coming, and even though his and Richie's feelings were out in the open again, Eddie wasn't sure he was ready for this. Not at all.

Letting his hand drift down Richie's arms, Eddie gripped his hands instead. Threaded their fingers together. "I know," Eddie said. "And since you've chosen to be honest with me, then the time has come when I need to be honest with you."

"About what?"

Eddie stepped back, tugging on Richie's hands as he went. "Maybe we should sit down," he suggested, Richie falling into step behind him as they crossed the room to the couch. When Richie took his seat on the sofa, he glanced up at Eddie, who was still standing next to the coffee table.

"I, um…haven't been completely honest with you either," Eddie said. He clasped his hands together, wringing his fingers into what felt like knots. "I mean, other than hiding my feelings for you…there's something else that you need to know."

"About what?" Richie asked again, confusion rising up in his voice.

"Maybe it would be better if I showed you," Eddie said. He held up an index finger and said, "Wait here for a second, okay?"

Eddie hurried out to the hallway, to the cabinet that used to be centered underneath their wedding portrait. There was only that blank space on the wall now, the one where Richie knew a picture had hung, but couldn't quite remember the finer details about. Eddie stooped down, opening one of the cabinet doors and withdrawing their wedding picture from inside. Where he had hidden it from view all those days ago. All those days that now felt like a lifetime.

When he returned to the living room, Eddie was holding the portrait protectively to his chest so that Richie couldn't see. Richie was watching him curiously from the couch, his eyes going from Eddie's face to the picture that was hidden from view.

Just then, recognition seemed to flash across Richie's features. His eyes darted to the blank space in the hallway, which he could just see from his vantage point. When he faced Eddie again, he asked, "Is that…the picture from the hallway?"

Eddie nodded. "Yeah. It…was never out getting reframed. I lied."

Richie frowned deeply and shook his head. "Why would you lie about that?"

"Because." Eddie took a deep breath, although it did nothing to calm his frazzled nerves. It felt like every single part of his body had electricity coursing through it, making him feel completely on edge. He pulled the portrait away from his chest, staring down at it long and hard before he said, "I've been hiding the entire truth about our relationship from you."

Before Richie could respond to Eddie's words, Eddie finally handed over the portrait. He held it out for Richie, letting Richie take it from him. Both of their hands were shaking.

Richie settled the picture in his lap, taking a very long time to look at it, to go over every single detail like he was trying to commit it to memory. So he wouldn't forget it again. The first and middle fingers of his left hand traced over the glass, around their outlines before his fingertips settled on the rings they were wearing in the picture.

Richie glanced up from the portrait then, first staring at Eddie's face. Richie's chest was heaving, like the truth was already taking its toll on him. His eyes, though, were still confused until they drifted down Eddie's left arm. He stared at the rings Eddie was still wearing, his and Richie's wedding rings on his ring finger and index finger respectively. Lifting his hand up from where it was resting on the portrait, Richie glanced at his own ring finger. His thumb drifted over it, pressing into the joint where his ring should have been sitting.

A moment later, Richie's eyes were round, but not in confusion. Quite the contrary, because for the first time since he had woken up in the hospital, Richie understood perfectly. Everything made sense to him. That was when Eddie knew that he understood. Now he knew everything that Eddie had been hiding from him this entire time.

Swallowing hard, his breath now coming in heaving gasps, Richie whispered, "Why didn't you tell me?" All of a sudden, his eyes had grown sad, such a distinct and startling difference to the excitement that had just been present there only moments before.

"Because I didn't know how," Eddie said, shaking his head. He stepped forward, dropping down onto the sofa as well, but careful not to touch Richie at the moment. His voice was shaking and he was trying desperately to keep any tears at bay that were threatening to spill out. "Listen to me for a minute, okay?" Eddie pleaded, not at all sure how Richie might react to his explanation.

Richie nodded, but when he spoke again, his voice was flat. "Okay."

"You had just woken up in the hospital," Eddie explained, "and I realized that you didn't remember anything about…us. You were already so confused and dealing with so much…I didn't want to make it worse."

"So you lied?"

"I lied," Eddie admitted, hanging his head in shame. He stared at the portrait still on Richie's lap, at the way they were clinging to each other. At the grins that were plastered across their faces, wondering if they would ever be that close or that happy again. "I tried to put myself in your position," Eddie continued on. "I asked myself how I would feel if I woke up in the hospital without any idea how I got there, and found myself married to a man that I didn't remember. I thought…I was certain that it would add too much to everything you were already trying to process. I…didn't want you to feel like a bad husband if you couldn't remember me."

Richie's eyebrows knitted together, his thumb still hovering over that spot on his ring finger. "Is that how you think of me – a bad husband because I couldn't remember you? Can't remember marrying you?"

"No!" Eddie exclaimed. "God, no! Not you. I would never think that about you. I was just afraid that you might think that, and I didn't want to do that to you. I thought I was protecting you."

"By lying to me."

"It was dumb," Eddie told him. "Bill basically told me I was being dumb, and…I know it was. Because I've been feeling like shit more and more the longer it went on."

"As you should." Richie's voice was cold, hurt, something that Eddie didn't hear there very often, and he was one who had done that to Richie. He was. Not anyone else. Not those stupid assholes who had tried to kill him, but Eddie himself.

That made Eddie feel even worse, so he said, "I'm so sorry. I was trying to protect you and I only ended up hurting you more. That was never my intention. I…thought I was doing the right thing, but I very clearly wasn't. That's become more apparent to me as time went on, because I wasn't sure how to come clean. And I've wanted to. I just had no clue how. This lie's been getting bigger and more involved, and I had no idea how to get out of it anymore."

"So you let me make an ass out of myself."

"You didn't…make an ass out of yourself."

"This morning?" Richie asked, one of his eyebrows going up. "I made an ass out of myself. I thought I was going crazy, because I was experiencing completely inappropriate thoughts for my best friend. Or so I thought. Because I wanted to hug you and kiss you in ways that friends shouldn't do." Richie reached his hands out, like he wanted to take Eddie in his arms, but then he forced them back down again.

"And well…that was the other half of it," Eddie admitted. "A part of me…was kind of terrified that you wouldn't feel the same way about me anymore. Even more than making you feel like a bad husband, I didn't want you to find yourself married to someone that you didn't even love."

"Eddie," Richie said, his voice suddenly softer than it had been this entire conversation. "I've loved you since I was thirteen, and…you thought I wouldn't still feel the same way? Did you actually think that those assholes could…make me stop loving you? Could beat the love I have for you out of me?" He shook his head, his tone incredulous. "Because that's impossible. Loving you is…second nature to me, just like breathing is."

Despite the fact that their conversation was still on shaky ground, Eddie found himself smiling. "Bill said you told him that the night before our wedding."

"I did?"

Eddie nodded.

"And it's true," Richie reiterated. "I don't remember what it's like to not love you."

"Neither do I."

A small smile enveloped Richie's lips for the briefest moment, but then it was gone again. It was replaced by that confused and hurt expression that had been there just a moment before. "I just…I'm trying to wrap my head around why you thought lying to me was the best course of action." He stared intently at Eddie's face, eyes so very wide and pleading. Pleading with Eddie to help him understand.

"I told you," Eddie said. He took a chance and reached out for Richie's hands, but his husband only flinched away from him. Sighing, Eddie told him, "I thought I was protecting you from further hurt in the long run. I know now that I was wrong, but…I really thought I was doing the right thing. I'm sorry."

"Do you remember when you asked if I ever remembered you lying to me?" Richie asked. He wrapped his arms around himself, like he was getting cold. "And I said the only instance I could remember was when you said you fucked my mother. That's no longer true, is it?"

Eddie shook his head miserably, hanging his head and diverting his gaze down to his lap. He knew that he had done something stupid, and he could understand why Richie was upset, but he couldn't quite remember Richie ever making him feel so badly about himself. That was something that Richie had never done before; even when he was upset, Richie was always so kind and understanding with Eddie. But here Richie was calling him a liar, and Eddie couldn't blame him in the least.

"No."

"All this time…" Richie began again, but then he trailed off a moment later. He took a moment to rub at his eyes, like he could make this make sense somehow. Then he was running his hands over the glass of the portrait, like he was still trying to remember every facet of it. "So not only did my husband lie to me, but my best friend lied to me. That's fucked up if you ask me."

"It is," Eddie said, holding his hands palm-up in a show of surrender to Richie. "I fucked up. I know I did. I've known that for a while now. And all I can say is I'm sorry, because I really thought I was doing the right thing. I just didn't want to hurt you any more than you already had been. That's all."

Eddie sniffled and swiped at his eyes, trying his very best to keep his tears at bay. The very last thing he wanted right now was for Richie to think he couldn't own up to his mistakes. That he was crying on purpose to make Richie feel more sympathetic towards him. "In hindsight, it was dumb," Eddie admitted. "I'm just asking you to try and understand where I was coming from. What…my thought process was in all of this, however fucked up it was."

"I'm trying," Richie insisted. "Fuck, I'm trying, but you need to understand where I'm coming from too. Isn't that what marriage is about?"

Nodding, Eddie still found himself unable to meet Richie's eyes. "You're right."

"You're the person I trusted most in this world," Richie told him. "Aside from stupid jokes about fucking my mom, I know you've never lied to me. Or at least that used to be true. That's why you're the only person in this whole damn world makes me feel completely safe right now. Because I know you'd never hurt me. But now you've done just that. You've been lying to me this entire time about our whole relationship. I don't…I have no fucking clue what to do with that, because I never thought you'd lie to me about something so important. I…feel betrayed. In the worst kind of way, because this is coming from my husband. My best friend."

"And I don't know what else I can say to you!" Eddie cried out, and there they were. Those pesky tears were finally dripping down his cheeks, despite Eddie's best efforts to the contrary. "I've explained to you why I did it. Why I made this mistake. Just…tell me that I haven't fucked everything up between us."

Richie's bottom lip was quivering, and Eddie could tell he was close to crying as well. When he spoke again, his voice was just as unsteady, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to hug him. To squeeze him so tightly like it might make everything okay again.

"I can't answer that right now," Richie told him before he pulled his glasses off. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair again. "All I do know is that it's been a fucking long day. A lot has happened, my headache is back, and…I'm still trying to process everything. Can…maybe we can sleep on this," Richie suggested before meeting Eddie's eyes again. "Because I feel like we're both too on edge to have a civil conversation right now, and we're going to end up saying shit we'll regret."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. As much as he hated the thought of them going to bed angry (because that was something that he and Richie never did), he knew that Richie had a point. Eddie could feel this quickly deteriorating into a shouting match, and that was something he didn't want at all.

"Okay," Richie whispered, gingerly setting their wedding portrait on the coffee table in front of them. "Night then," he muttered before he stood up from the couch and made his way for the hallway.

"Night," Eddie said so quietly, he wasn't sure if Richie even heard him.

When the door to the bedroom snapped closed, Eddie sat and stared at their wedding picture. At the smiles present on their face. At the wedding rings that adorned their fingers, and Eddie found himself wondering if Richie would ever wear his again. Eddie ran the tips of his fingers over the glass, just like Richie had done a little while ago, wondering if they'd ever be that happy again.

Wondering if those two assholes had broken their relationship beyond repair.

To be continued…

Author's note: This is that chapter. The one that I'm sure many of you have been waiting for and one of the ones that's been floating around in my mind since this entire story started. This has gone through many iterations before I finally settled on the version you see here, and I hope that it's lived up to your expectations!