𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃

𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

You're not a curse, you're not too much/
You are needed here/ You are enough

- SYML, Wildfire

/

Courtesy of the second deer in the road and whispers of foul play, the DPD drops a brand new curfew on the town just in time for Spring Break.

Spring Break, apparently, is something Richie's been too caught up in everything Eddie-related to realize is approaching until it smacks him upside the head, and suddenly he's staring down an entire week of free time he has absolutely no idea what to do with.

The Denbroughs are in Disneyland until mid-week and Stan is spending the next few days with his great aunt in Nebraska, leaving the other four of them with an eight o' clock curfew and to their own devices. Five of them, counting Eddie. And Eddie does count, and not just to Richie anymore, which is as terrifying as it is a relief - the rest of the Losers have pulled him into their circle so effortlessly that it feels like maybe he was always meant to be there, like there was never a time they were without a seventh member.

The whole Eddie thing is...complicated. For now, at least, it's a secret they've agreed to keep. Richie made them all spit swear on it (metaphorically, in the case of Stan, who had rattled off a very, very, very long list of things he'd rather do than touch Richie's saliva-slick palm.) They're good at keeping secrets. After all, they know better than anyone that different doesn't always mean dangerous, that other isn't always such a bad thing. And yeah, it's scary, knowing Eddie isn't just his secret anymore, but Richie feels a little lighter every morning he wakes up knowing he's not keeping this secret alone.

And it feels like it shouldn't have been so easy but it is, because the Losers are terribly unalike in most ways and painfully similar in others, above all in their unshakable loyalty. They're so good it doesn't seem real sometimes, and way in the back of his mind Richie knows he probably doesn't deserve them. But Eddie does.

When it comes to the Losers, the whole 'lack of plans' thing is never really an issue either. It's barely a quarter to ten on the first Saturday of break when he's startled awake by his mother's voice.

"Rich!" she calls from the bottom of the stairs. "Phone's for you!" And really, Richie could give less a shit about whoever's on the other end of the line. He's more surprised at the fact that his mom is actually awake and answering the phone at an hour that normal people are awake and answering the phone. They've missed a lot of calls over the years because of her apparent inability to leave her bedroom before two in the afternoon - a blessing when it comes to Richie's spotty attendance record and a curse when it involves stuff like utility bills and groceries.

He can hear her still chatting away with whoever's on the phone as he pads downstairs, scrubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. She sounds happy, awkward but amiable, like she doesn't quite remember how to have real conversations anymore but is trying nonetheless. He's rounding the corner when she laughs, and his heart does a funny little twist in his chest at the sound of it.

"Hi," he says, slightly breathless as he stands in the doorway.

His mother turns, startled, receiver still pressed to her ear. Then she smiles at him. She's wearing blue jeans and an off-white button up, hair brushed back behind her ears, and she looks more awake and alert than she has in a long time. The kitchen table is still cluttered with paperwork and Richie would bet money that she hasn't eaten much if at all, but she looks good. It feels like something out of a dream.

"Sorry, sweetheart, give me just a second - morning, Rich - yeah, he's right here. I'll let you go now, hon, but it was great talking to you. Take care of yourself, okay?" A pause, a wavering smile. "I will. Thanks, hon." She presses the receiver briefly against her shoulder and mouths the name Beverly Marsh to Richie, as if it's some sort of secret and Bev doesn't call on the regular. Then again, Maggie's not usually the one answering.