serendipity {sequel to pop} || reddie

Epilogue

"So, how are things?"

"Things are..." Richie shifts the phone in his hand.

It's been nearly five years since the Losers Club defeated It. The group has kept in contact, and none of them have forgotten anything- probably because the space mist is dead. Stan and his wife, Patty, have a toddler. They're not the only ones with kids.

"They're great." Richie answers. "Abby's ready for first grade in the fall. Plus, I think we've finally become a part of the neighborhood after two years of barbecues and PTA meetings." He rolls his eyes. "Ugh, the suburbs."

"I honestly never expected Trashmouth Tozier to settle down." Beverly Hanscom says through the phone.

Richie hears Eddie's voice float in from the other room- "Abby, you've got to wait for the primer to dry first before you can paint on it."

"Abby's currently in the midst of an art project." Richie says, pacing absentmindedly around the kitchen. "She's painting Eddie's crutches."

"Aw, that's sweet."

"How are things on your end?" Richie asks her.

"Oh, they're awesome. Ben and I had the best date last night. Benefits of not being stuck at home with kids." She replies, and Richie smiles. "Kidding. Oh- you're coming back to Derry for the anniversary, right?"

"Of course! We've got out tickets and a sitter booked." Richie answers. "How could I forget the day we saved the fucking world from an evil space mist?"

Beverly laughs. "Great. Have you given Abby nightmares with that story yet?"

"Not yet. Maybe we'll give her nightmares when she's a little older. Like, eight." Richie grins.

"Are you guys gonna be okay in Derry? I know it's hard going back. You know every year I suggest meeting up someplace else."

She says "you guys," but Richie knows she means him. Out of the group, he's probably had the worst time dealing with the aftermath. He has frequent nightmares about It, and about what he saw in the deadlights. If Eddie crouches down in front of him, it shocks him into fight or flight. Sometimes he just has to hold Eddie really close for really long, to remind himself that Eddie's there.

But he's doing a lot better now; he's got antidepressants and a therapist that doesn't pry and a stable family, and he's finally absorbed the idea that Eddie is, in fact, alive and well and not dead in a cave.

"Nah, we'll be good." Richie says. "I know Mike hates flying, and Bill's still moving in there, it would be so much hassle for him to go to some other city. Plus, it's always nice to see my hometown."

"Too bad your parents moved," Beverly says. "You could've had a two-for-one deal."

"Hey, Rich, can you come help in here? Abby's got a crayon threateningly close to the wall and my crutches are drying." Eddie calls out.

"Sorry, Bev, gotta jet." Richie tells her. "Something's happening with crayons and walls."

"Good luck." Beverly laughs. "Bye, loser."

Richie hangs up before walking into the other room. Eddie is sitting on the floor by his crutches, with a few pieces of paper, drawn on by Abby, strewn about. Abby herself is standing by the wall with a crayon in hand. Richie takes the crayon away, and Abby protests.

"God, she's like a clone of you." Eddie shakes his head with a sigh.

"That's weird, she's adopted." Richie picks her up, which shifts her mood right back to happy. He smiles at her. "My little adopted angel."

Eddie scoffs. "Don't call her an 'adopted angel.'"

"What? It's what she is. Although-" Richie addresses Abby again. "If you turn out to be straight, we'll disown you. Right?" Abby nods happily.

"Don't say that stuff, Richie, it'll get, like, engrained in her head." Eddie gestures for him to come closer.

Richie sets Abby back down and gives her crayon back before taking a seat on the floor beside Eddie. Abby announces that she's going to finish one of her drawings, sitting down to draw. Richie and Eddie watch her happily in contented silence for a moment.

"... She's got to be at least bicurious, though, right?" Richie breaks the silence, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Richie."

~fin~