.
.
What feels like slender, white-hot spikes of agony goes up Eddie's nose. He presses over it gingerly, checking for the umpteenth time if his nose is broken. Eddie winces at the visible, scarlet-red blood drying between the cracks of his fingers.
Probably not broken, he supposes. Not that Eddie is gonna thank Henry fucking Bowers anytime soon for it.
Ever since the fight at rock quarry, and whopping the Bowers Gang's ass, Henry's officially lost his shit. Instead of bringing along his friends everywhere, he's been targeting The Losers Club one by one. By himself. There's something insidious about Henry's contempt for those he deems physically weaker. Kids who are more vulnerable than him. Accelerating Henry's lust for violence.
Staying together and pairing off helps, but Eddie frequently has to go to the pharmacy.
By himself.
He got his new prescription when Henry jumped him, knocking Eddie back with a shove. Pain crawled up Eddie's hand where it scrapes the concrete. A storekeeper across the road yelled at a taunting, malicious Henry. Something about calling the police.
While Henry screamed back at them, vulgar and enraged, a petrified Eddie snapped out of it. Running.
Likely saving his neck.
He could hear Henry fast approaching, and Eddie tripped over a little girl on a tricycle coming around the bend, falling with her. Eddie's mouth and the tender bone of his nose collided full-speed into the sidewalk. Eddie rolled over onto his side, gasping through the hot, gushing bloodflow and his winded breathing, feeling Henry yank him up. That's when Eddie began laughing.
A kind of donkey-braying laughter. Uncontrollable. For a split-second, Eddie wasn't afraid of Henry. Or of anything at all.
You think this is FUNNY, you shit-sucking fuck!?
Henry didn't get the response he wanted in the end, sullen and throwing Eddie aside. The little girl, with her little honey-blonde pigtails and reddened cheeks, wailed MOMMY! MOMMY!—she probably saved Eddie's neck too. One or two neighborhood adults peeked out of their homes to find the source of wailing. Even schoolyard bullies didn't want more trouble than necessary.
Mr. Ross came around from his garden-gate, helping Eddie stand up, before fussing over the kindergartner. Eddie's laughter bubbled down into soft, ragged whimpers. He picked up his inhaler's bag, disappearing from Costelo Street Market.
That had been twelve minutes ago.
He's pissed.
Eddie storms down another road, wiping his swollen, bloody upper lip, heading home. On the way, he notices the unlit pathway to the Kissing Bridge. Nobody in sight. That's weird. Older highschoolers usually hung around during early Friday nights, swapping spit with their girlfriends or boyfriends, tossing empty cans of Bud Light down into the grass-lined slope.
There's so many carvings on the bridge's wooden-planks. Eddie recognizes a few names in Derry High School, random phone numbers, and a crudely done penis. Most are initials of kids in town, deliberately carved next to their secret admirer's initials.
But, most kids aren't… like him. They don't need to keep secrets. Eddie's temper flares up, awakened by his shame.
He kicks one of the poles, grumbling. That's when Eddie catches a glimpse of R + E on a lower plank. Looks like a newer carving to him. A surge of heat blooms in Eddie's gut. No, it wouldn't be. He's being an idiot. It has to be two other names.
Eddie's soil-encrusted fingernail digs into the R, tracing it.
Rhonda? Rachel? Ron?
Despite himself, he smiles widely like it's really happening, picturing Richie on his knees to the bridge. Taking his swiss army knife out. Carving out his own initial, staring guardedly over his shoulder. Too much traffic. Gnats hovering in Richie's airspace. But, well, Richie wouldn't though—he wouldn't waste time carving the person who mattered most into the Kissing Bridge.
Eddie strays out of his daydream, begrudging. He presses on his injured nose again, groaning out.
.
.
He can still picture it—the younger version of Eddie, in his ruined, salmon cargo-shorts. His pale fingers covered sticky in blood. Eddie remembers washing his hands with the garden-hose, and his mouth, dodging his Mommy fixated on the television set.
Life had been simpler then.
Eddie prods open Richie's car-door noiselessly with the tip of his shoe, minding with his arm-sling. Richie's crouched on the Kissing Bridge, distracted, jabbing his blade into the old, worn initials of R + E. Tears gleam on his eyelashes. Somehow, somehow they're all alive. Eddie kinda feels like crying, too. But it's probably not why Richie is.
He heads over to Richie, scratching over his freshly bandaged cheek. "Is that what you didn't want me to see?"
Richie blows air out of his mouth, startled by Eddie's voice. He mumbles incoherently and rubs Eddie's hoodie-sleeve across his eyelids. His glasses skewing. Eddie can see the fracture in the lenses, and droplets of Eddie's blood. It's been a long day.
"Hey, I told you to—"
"—shut up and wait in the car?" Eddie finishes, giving him a stern look. "Forget it, Rich."
Richie pushes himself back to his feet, one of his hands curling protectively to Eddie's nape and massaging down.
They observe the wooden-plank of carvings, reflecting on what's happened.
"At the risk of sounding like a numskull," Eddie mutters, smiling close-lipped. "I was always hoping it was you. The initials. I saw them a long time ago."
"Ha!" Richie barks. "That's fuckin' hysterical—!"
He turns to Eddie abruptly, dropping the show of mischievous grin.
"—yeah. Yeah. It was totally me, dude," Richie tells him, his brown eyes going hazy with fondness. Eddie snickers, wrapping his uninjured arm to Richie's back, feeling the other man guiding him back to the car. Where they're gonna from here—he can't wait.
Richie quirks an eyebrow, beaming. "The E stands for Eddie's mom though."
"Jesus…" Eddie mutters, leaning into Richie's hand on him.
"We're very happy."
"Dickhead."
.
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IT (2019) isn't mine. Requested by kaboomslang (AO3): "Eddie as a kid stumbling upon the R+E and daydreaming his little heart out that Richie wrote it? And idk they go back as adults and it's like always hoped that was you." This was a cute idea! Thank you for letting me do it! :) Any comments/thoughts appreciated!
((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship and prompt. You need to also specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you just read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))
((Do not ask for Reader/Character, OCs, Bowers Gang-centric or ship, Pennywise-centric or ship or underage. All characters for NSFW will be depicted as 18+ only.))