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Richie would be an idiot to think Eddie can't see how red his eyes are from crying and how messy his hair is. (Unbeknownst to them, the clock strikes 6:30, starting an exact eleven year and forty-seven day countdown.)

"Eddie." He says quietly, pulling his glasses up his nose.

"Richie." Eddie responds.

"I didn't know that you'd be here." He sounds nervous, but not angry, which instantly makes Eddie feel relieved.

"I can say the same." They aren't making eye contact. Eddie pointedly stares at the ground to the left of Richie, doing his best to minimize the glances he takes at his soulmate's face. He wants to look, and to stare, and to kiss, but that's not what Richie wants. And who's Eddie to take what he can't have? A mixture of shock and sadness is spilling through his body, feelings that he can't decipher are his own or that of the boy in front of him. He decides that it doesn't really matter. He wonders if he'll be able to feel it when Richie falls in love with someone else.

"We should talk." Richie says.

Eddie's eyes snap towards him- he had been expecting to be ignored, brushed off. Richie doesn't owe him anything and he doesn't like him as anything more than a friend. If he even still likes him as a friend. Oh. Richie probably wants to tell Eddie not to every contact him again, or something-

"No, I don't want to talk to you." He rushes out, surprising himself. Maybe he can pretend for a second that he still has a chance at fixing their friendship if Richie doesn't swoop in and tell him it's all completely over.

There's a small huff from Richie. "Please." He says desperately. When Eddie doesn't say anything, he continues, "Please, Eds. I need y- to talk to you." (He is scared to say he needs him, but he does. By the time eleven years and forty-seven days pass, he will be well over that fear.)

Eddie feels his jaw wobble as he opens it again, then closes it. The use of the nickname caught him off guard, and suddenly talking to Richie is the only thing he wants to do. Except to tell him not to call him Eds. But this isn't the time. "Fine. Not... here, though."

Richie perks up. "Where?"

"I'll meet you at the clubhouse in twenty minutes. I... need to talk to Beverly." He points to the door of the Marsh household.

Richie nods once, fixes his glass again, and walks down the steps. "See ya, Eds." As he passes Eddie, their arms brush; Eddie honest-to-god shivers, grateful Richie was walking the other way so he couldn't see. (Eleven years and forty-seven days later, a touch from Richie still makes him shiver. That doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.)

He makes his way up the steps and opens the door to the household, not bothering to knock- he and Beverly are past that. Beverly is actually the only Loser who ever knocks. They all have their own theories, which they shared one day at Ben's house, but Beverly insisted that it's because it's only polite. And maybe she had accidentally seen something she shouldn't have seen. Now this caused the entire group to go to shambles, with everyone asking what the FUCK she meant by that, Bill insisting she probably just walked in on Richie wiping his ass, and Stan staying suspiciously quiet. That had been a fun day. Beverly never told what she saw.

He makes a beeline for Beverly's bedroom, opening the door. She's on her stomach on her bed reading a magazine. When he comes in, she looks up at him with an unimpressed look.

"I hate you two." She says neutrally, placing her magazine face-down.

Eddie scoffs. "I saw him outside."

With that, Bev scrambles off her bed and grabs Eddie by the shoulders. "What did he say?" She asks, her eyes wide. Eddie tried to search her face for what she thinks Richie was going to say so he can have a clue as to what's going to come, but Bev's expression is ambiguous. Her shocked, interested expression could be because Richie's about to tell Eddie to never speak to him again or... not that. Eddie can't think about it without blushing up to his ears. While Bev being the world's most trustworthy person has it's perks, it also sucks when you want information.

fifteen // reddieWhere stories live. Discover now