.

.

"YIPPEE KI YAY, MOTHERFUC—!"

Richie's sentence dies off, as he's engulfed by a searing and red-glowing light. The foggy, azure atmosphere superheats, heightening the rancor and tension. A gigantic, jagged rock tumbles out of Richie's limp fingers, hitting the ground.

His mouth dangles open. Richie's head snaps forward, his eyes violently rolled to the whites. Limbs floppy.

Pennywise aims its deadlights on him menacingly. The energy oscillates and booms, highly concentrated, funneling through its breathing, roaring maw. Richie floats upwards, high, high above, silent as the grave. Eddie rushes in, speechless.

"Richie, no," Mike groans out, clutching his middle.

"Richie!" Beverly screeches, near-tears.

Eddie glances down at the long metal-rod in his hand, forehead wrinkling up. It kills monsters. Only if you believe it does. I believe, Eddie repeats to himself firmly, taking aim. I believe. I believe it does. C'mon, Richie. I believe in you.

He shot-puts the rod inside Pennywise's maw, frightened by the lava-like, bright plasma erupting from it.

It's dying.

Richie drops mid-air into a heap. The trickle of his dark nasal-blood floats upwards, then splatters to Richie's glasses. The others run straight to the bellowing, shrinking extraterrestrial, carrying their own gigantic rocks in their hands forebodingly.

Eddie ditches the idea, practically crawling on top of Richie. He gets fistfuls of Richie's short-sleeved shirt, pulling a little.

"Richie! Richie, I think I did it!" he babbles. Eddie grins, strangely and understandably thrilled. "We gotta go!" He's not seeing it yet, but Richie's eyes no longer show their whites. They're unblinking, glazed over.

"Hey, man—" Eddie smacks on Richie's chest impatiently. "Seriously, we gotta go! Richie!"

No response. Blood clots heavily in Richie's ears, and from both of his nostrils.

"Richie?" Eddie asks, patting him this time. He presses his sewer-grimy fingers against a vein to Richie's neck.

Nothing.

"Richie? Hey?" Eddie's voice remains concerned, but not panicked. He's baffled. And then, a paroxysm of rage ignites, spreading over Eddie, heating his tightened expression. "The fuck, Richie! Don't fuck with me, man!"

But, it's sinking in. Sinking like the deadlights flickering out of existence.

Green, murky shadows fall over them. Richie's jaw feels abnormally cool against Eddie's hand.

"Richie," Eddie mumbles, faraway. Lost.

He brushes his fingertips over Eddie's chin, feeling the bristle of dark, thickening facial hair. Eddie wants to feel more, gathering him up, cradling Richie's body against him and tucking their heads together. He's rock-heavy. Tumbling.

"Eddie! Eddie, we—" Beverly says, overjoyed, hopping over the nearest boulder. She halts.

Bill catches her stunned expression. "What's wrong?"

"Eddie?" Mike asks.

"No," Eddie mumbles determinedly, swaying him and Richie together. They can't be apart now. "No, no, it's not…"

"Richie—is he—?" Ben gulps, distressed.

"Richie, RICHIE," Beverly calls out, weeping and begging. "Richie, honey?"

"No."

"He needs chest compressions." Bill steps over, gesturing for Mike and Ben to help him. They separate Eddie from Richie after a long, heartbreaking minute, promising to be gentle, so gentle, lying Richie's skull down. "Eddie, I need you to do CPR."

"Okay," Eddie blurts out, nodding frantically. Something makes sense now. "Okay. Okay, yeah."

Bill does the pumps, counting them out.

"Go," he orders, and Eddie tilts Richie back, pinching his nose. Exactly like he remembers from health classes. Richie's mouth tastes like dirt and bile, as Eddie puffs into his mouth, shutting his eyes. He's never put his lips on another man. Richie—

"—KER!" Richie yells, finishing his incomplete sentence.

Everyone else screams loudly in terror and alarm, backing up.

Beverly and Mike and Ben stagger with relief after a moment, clutching onto each other. Bill thuds onto his back, rubbing his palms over his face.

Richie gazes around, sitting up and doubtful.

"Did… did we win?" he asks, flummoxed, and then yelps under his breath, jumpy and trying to not blush when Eddie hugs him wildly. He claws a hand into Richie's dark, sweaty curls, murmuring for Richie, Richie, Richie…

I believe in us.

.

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IT (2019) isn't mine. Requested by TheSchubita (AO3): "instead of eddie, it's richie who dies (but not really)." WE LOVE ANGST. WE LOVE WHUMP. It's fine. Richie's not going anywhere. Not without Eddie if Eddie can help it! Well, thanks for the read! Hope you liked it! ILY GUYS. BLOWS A KISS.

((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.))