A Pleasure As Well As An Honour

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The sky on the trip back from Kennebunk was grey and drenched in rain. Went drove, insisting none of the kids should had ever have driven given they were too young. He'd send someone back for Maggie's car at a later date.
He held onto the steering wheel a little too tightly with a face of stone as he followed the dimly lit road.
Beverly and Richie sat in between Eddie, both leaning their foreheads on the chilled glass.
Richie hadn't spoken since the news was broken. He had stayed crumpled on the floor for a good hour or so with Eddie by his side, stroking his hair and assuring him it was ok to cry.
Richie didn't cry. He wanted to but he couldn't make his tear ducts respond. Instead, he just stared at the grandfather clock across the hall. Watching the ornate pendulum bob swing back and forth.
Wentworth left as soon as he saw his son hit the floor. He asked the more feminine looking girl in a dark paisley pattered dress to collect his son's things. Then he sat on the front porch and waited.
As seemingly endless rows of dark soaked trees passed by the window, Eddie tried to imagine what sort of insanity was waiting for them in Derry.
The idea of his Mother expecting them as soon as they pulled into the Tozier's driveway was burned into his brain. Her pristine AMC Gremlin parked near the ditch and listing towards the drivers side. As if she had some sort of sixth sense when it came to torturing her daughter.
He shuddered at the thought, violently enough, it would seem, to shake Richie from his trance. His eyes ran over the smaller boy.
"You ok, Eds."
The question hit Eddie wrong. Why the hell would Richie be concerned with how Eddie felt at this very moment. He looked up trying his best to smile.
"I'm fine,"  his head found its way onto the taller boy's shoulder, "you?"
Richie offers a stiff nod, eyes meeting Went's in the rear view mirror.
He wondered briefly what his Father made of his son and Eddie. Did his Mother share anything before she passed? He knew where to find them. That spoke to something.
He decided in the end it didn't matter. His Father had never been there for his Mother after her initial breakdown and he would never be there for him either. Not emotionally anyway. A small part of him hoped at least financially, seeing as he and Eddie's runaway adventure had been poorly planned as well as executed.
His Father informed him that his Mother had succumbed to an accidental overdose. That is, if you believed what the Doctor had officially testified on her death certificate. Richie wasn't very sure. And now he never would be. He and his Mother were pretty crumby at communicating when she was alive. Now with the road block of her demise, it would seem that was the way it would stay. Although, a horrid thought had wormed it's way into the back of his head. What if with her son gone, taking the money she had saved for her own escape she decided to take herself off the board?
Richie squeezed his eyes shut trying to delete the suspicion from his mind.
Bill, Stan, Mike and Ben were there when they arrived at the Tozier residence. Eddie felt the sweet release of relief as he scanned the area and found no trace of Sonia or her contradictory tiny car.
As they exited his Father's vehicle, Richie shielded his eyes from the sun that had begun to peak out of the ashen clouds. Eddie gravitated toward Richie, afraid to be too far away when reality did start to set in. Bev wasn't far behind. Went remained in his car, hands clasped to the wheel, trying to regain his composure before encountering the strangers his son regarded as friends.
The other Losers, stood in a lopsided line, uncertain how to greet their grieving friend.
Mike finally broke the tension, walking up to Richie and pulling him into a hug. His strong arms felt nice against Richie's thin frame. He let himself sink into the hug, bending slightly to rest his cheek on the other boy's chest. More arms wrapped around him. He peered up to see Bill and Stan pressed to him. Then Ben followed. Before he knew it, all of the losers had found a piece of him to hold onto.
In the nest of bone crushing support, he finally felt the tears push forward from his eyes. His shoulders began to shake as an ugly sob clawed its way out of his throat.
"Hey, let's step inside." Beverly suggested after a few minutes feeling the moment too intimate for the prying eyes behind the neighbour's blinds.
The Loser's Club stayed the night at Richie's home that night. If Wentworth didn't approve he said nothing to the effect. In fact, Richie wasn't even sure he was in the home. He didn't care either way. The last time he saw him, Went had finally come out of his car. In a despondent tone he informed his son that Maggie's funeral would be on Friday. There would be a wake and Richard would need a suit.
In the living room, they had splayed out a sea of blankets and comforters Bev had managed to locate in the linen closet and pillows from Richie's room. The state of the room was poor. Under any other circumstance, Eddie would've loudly proclaimed it disgusting. Thick layers of dust had caked over the coffee table and window sills. There were ancient cans of diet soda and half drunk bottles of wine scattered around.Dishes piled up. Pill bottles. An ashtray on the end table was overflowing with ash and the butts of presumably Maggie's preferred cigarettes.
Richie felt his cheeks warm seeing the sight with fresh eyes. Through his friend's eyes. He was fucking embarrassed. The losers pretended not to notice as he excused himself to take the first hot shower he'd take in what felt like a century.
Bev pulled Eddie aside as Richie left.
"Let's clean up a bit while he's gone, yeah?"
Eddie nodded, relieved he wasn't the only one thinking it.
Showers were a great way to pretend Richie wasn't sobbing uncontrollably. Curled upright against the cold tile made it difficult to discern what was shower water and what was tears. The hot water pricked at his skin, turning it a bright red. The subtle pain was a blessing to the tight muscles in his back.
Richie felt like it couldn't have been more than five minutes, but as he heard a light tap on the door and Eddie call his name he thought it may have been longer.
The door opened with a whine. Eddie's eyes met with a cloud of warm steam. He pulled back the slightly yellowed shower curtain to reveal Richie on the floor. He looked so small, knees pressed to his chin. With his dark hair pushed out of his face and glasses tossed haphazardly on the bathroom sink, Richie looked even more vulnerable. Almost like he wasn't Richie at all. Eddie sunk down to his level.
"It's been a little while, 'Chee, you ready to come out."
Richie continued to stare at the grout in front of him. He never noticed how it had browned over the years. The pet name that left Eddie's lips was new. He'd never called him anything like it. Asshole? Dipshit? Sure, at least once a day. But never anything sweet. It was kinda nice. He mused over the way the syllable had flowed so easily from Eddie's mouth as he picked at the pink skin on his knee.
In his peripheral vision which was still quite poor without the aid of his glasses, he could make out the dropping of clothes.
Eddie had stripped down to nothing, leaving even his chest bare. He felt more exposed than he'd like to be, but if Richie was going to spend the night in the shower so was he. He stepped onto the shower's tiled floor sitting behind Richie, one leg on either side of the boy. His arms wrapped around him, chin resting in the crook of his neck.
Richie could feel Eddie's bare skin pressed against his back and did not overlook the importance of it. He had never been fully naked around Richie and despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought along this new step in their relationship, Richie felt a small smile creep onto his lips at the honour.

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