At a young age, Richie knew. Knew that he was different from the other boys at school. In what way? That he wasn't quite sure of. Well until he met Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Kaspbrak was always a firecracker, even when Richie met him in the 4th grade. Especially as they grew older. Eddie could fire back at Richie's jokes with ease. Stan did it too sure, and Stan was his best friend, but it... it was different with Eddie. Richie couldn't describe it. Every time the shorter kid shot back at Richie, his chest felt heavier and lighter simultaneously. By the time his friends were talking about how they felt about girls, Richie recognized the feeling he felt in his chest in the stories they told about the girls they were crushing on. He liked Eddie. But Richie knew. Knew that he shouldn't like boys. He was old enough to understand the words thrown at other boys. But, Richie couldn't help the way he felt. Nor could he help the small spark of hope that Eddie might feel the same way. Eddie never talked about any girls he liked. Not once. When asked he'd shrug, and say something like, "I don't really like any girls." Richie thought for the first time in his life, maybe he wasn't alone. Maybe there was someone else.
Richie hadn't told his friends, he hadn't told anyone. The reality of who he was hit him during the summer of '89. He and Bill fought, and Richie did what he did best. Pretended nothing was wrong. It felt wrong not spending time with his friends, but at least Richie could forget the current situation by going to the arcade. So that's what he did. At the arcade, he met a boy. He said his name was Connor and he was from New York but was visiting for the summer. Richie wondered why anyone would ever visit Derry, but he never asked. Unfortunately, Richie found out anyway. Richie couldn't help it, he made eye contact for a bit too long, and let his hand linger after high fives. To be fair, it wasn't just Richie doing this. When their elbows would touch Conner would lean into Richie, he'd sneak glances at Richie as they were playing. After a round of Street Fighter, Richie let his hand linger longer than usual. This was Richie's attempt of flirting, no one ever teaches boys how to flirt with other boys without possibly getting murdered in the process. Richie didn't really notice the Bowers Gang walk in until he heard Connor speak up, "Dude, why are you being weird? I'm not your fucking boyfriend." Richie tried to stutter out an answer despite his confusion, but Henry spoke instead, "The fucks going on here?"
"You didn't tell me your town was full of little fairies."
"Richie fucking Tozier? You trying to bone my little cousin?" That's why Conner was here, he was Henry's cousin. Richie couldn't be here anymore, so he turned on his heels and left. Now, Richie didn't like to cry, but the second he got outside, he couldn't help it. The one place he felt safe at was now a place he didn't think he could ever feel safe again. Connor knew. Was he that obvious? The worst part was everyone in there was looking at him. They could hear everything. They all knew. And the word was spread. If everyone knew, someone in this godforsaken town might actually kill him. That is if the fucking alien space clown didn't kill him first. This town would literally be the death of him. Maybe he could be himself in somewhere that wasn't Derry. Like San Francisco. Richie overheard his parents planning a vacation a couple of months ago when his mom suggested San Fran. Richie remembered how hid father said, "That place is full of queers you know? They even have fucking, fucking parades about it. Like it's something to be proud of." Richie remembered how hearing his father say those words stung. Maybe if Richie lived there he could be happy. He could be himself.
The next summer, things were normal again. Richie and Bill weren't fighting, the friend group wasn't split up, and Ben had built them a clubhouse. It was a decent size and pretty well made all things considered. Soon enough, they made the place theirs. It was filled with comics and a stereo. They had even hung a hammock. Richie had a habit of hogging the hammock. The other losers didn't really mind, but it always made Eddie super mad. "Fine!" Eddie had exclaimed one day after Richie refused to share, "Ten minutes! Everyone gets ten minutes in the fucking hammock!" Richie had agreed, though it didn't mean much. Eddie could ask Richie to kill someone and Richie would. He'd do anything for Eddie.
