Young and Yearning (IT Imagines and Oneshots).

Reddie; Final.

The phone shook in Richie's hand, as he felt the beads of sweat run their way down his forehead. He could feel his friends' stares upon him, and it only made him grasp the phone harder. He knew that this wouldn't make time speed up, that it wouldn't do anything. Richie took a moment to figure out where he had gone wrong, why he was in this situation. His friends continued to watch as Richie began to think.

It had begun with he, Ben, Mike, Beverly and Bill reflecting on their fonders memories of their past friends. The laughs and the jokes, the happiness, and the losses. Over many cans of beer, glasses of wine and trays of jelly shots, they remembered all of the memories, the nice ones and the ones that hurt a little bit. All of the pain was washed away as more alcohol was digested, and it took about an hour into drinking that Richie had begun to feel numb. Everyone reacts to alcohol differently; Beverly gets flirty, Ben gets full of himself, Mike gets giggly and Bill almost always strips down to his boxers. Richie, however, gets sorrowful. When too much alcohol goes into Richie's body, he begins to feel depressed and tired, and starts spilling truths all over the place.

While his friends danced their drunkness away, Richie sat at the small circular table, doodling on a napkin, with a pen that Mike had stolen from a waitress and stuck into Bill's ear. It was absentminded, not much thought went into it, and Richie was thankful when Beverly downed four shots of espresso and three ice coffees, and ushered him into her car.

He slumped against the window, looking out at the blaring lights of New York City. Every building seemed to move by in a blur, whether Richie was looking through a window of tears, or a filter of alcohol. Richie didn't remember it, but he must've given Beverly his napkin before climbing up into the passengers seat, 'cause it was sticking out of her breast pocket at that very moment.

"Richie," She addressed him gently, just as he had begun fumbling with his seat belt. She reached over to help him unbuckle it, before taking his hand in her own softly, "Richie," Beverly said again, almost whispering at this point. He looked up at her through his drunkness goggles. Beverly opened her mouth to speak, before realising there was no point. She figured that she'd leave him a voicemail for him to open the next morning, maybe after his hangover cure. And that, Beverly did.

"Good morning, Rich," Beverly's voice came out of the answering machine. Richie's eyebrows narrowed as he massaged his forehead, moving his hair out of his forehead. It was stuck there with sweat, and honestly quite disgusting, "Look, come over to Ben and I's today, Bill and Mike will be there, too, we just want to talk to you bud," She paused a moment, and Richie could hear a quiet voice behind her, but not quite make out what it said, "It's about our eulogies to Eddie and Stanley, we need to.. figure out what we're going to say," Richie could practically hear the phlegm in her throat, she coughed slightly, "Mhm, so, yeah. Come over."

And Richie did just that.

It looked as if his friends were planning an intervention for him, or something along those lines. They were all sat, sadly, on the couch, when he walked into the Hanscom's apartment. Beverly stood up so violently she almost knocked over the water jug. In a swift movement, she had flung her arms around Richie's neck, almost knocking him off of his feet. Richie's eyes widened, as he watched his other friends watch them, and he pat Beverly's back a little awkwardly.

"Guys?" He finally said, peeling Beverly off of him, "What's going on..?" He asked, his voice gradually fading as he looked around the room. Nobody responded, and the deafening silence was only broken by the scratching of paper against fabric, or Beverly taking a napkin out of her pocket.

"Rich.." She said, "Last night when you were drunk, you scribbled something on this napkin. At first, I didn't really think much of it, but, uh, we think, or.." She thought a moment, cautious with her words, "..I think that you and Eddie were something more than friends," Beverly avoided his eye in a blatant fashion.

"No, we weren't anything more, Beaver, he was my best friend..." Richie sunk to a chair in the dining room, "I loved him... as a friend. And I won't ever stop," Richie felt as tears began to prick the corners of his eyes, and he looked upwards and blinked them away aggressively. Beverly merely hummed, scanning the napkin with her eyes before shoving it back in her pocket, "So?" Richie finally asked, "What's the damn thing say?" Beverly looked around the room, before sighing out deeply and telling him. These words would forever echo in Richie's mind.

"I wanted to marry him, not his mom..." Beverly recited, eyes fixated on the floor beneath her feet, "But sure, yeah, just friends," She finished, hoping this would clear the air. When it did not, Bill began to speak.

"Look, we just wanted to figure out his last words to everybody, y'know, as something to put into our eulogies.." He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He spent a few moments scrolling on it, before he finally found what he was looking for, "Here," He handed Richie the phone, before backing off like he was a loosely wired bomb.

Mike - Really, man?
Bev - Thank you.
Ben - Go get her!
Bill - Bill Denbrough, writer supreme.
Richie - _______________________

"What were his last words to you, Rich?" Mike asked carefully, taking the phone as Richie almost dropped it to the ground. Richie knew Eddie's last words to him. They had been the words sounding in his head like a drum for the past few weeks. The words that would haunt him forever more. The words that were a big fat touché on his whole life. Richie felt as if he were about to explode with sadness when he said the words, and Beverly immediately rushed to his side as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I.. I fucked your mom.." Richie finally said, ever so quietly. This was the last straw. He broke down in a collective of tears and sobs. His glasses fogged up almost immediately and he threw them to the ground in a hazy of flashback and anger. Beverly collected him together in her arms, and kissed his mess of hair gently. It was no use, however, and only the buzzing of a nearby phone turned everybody's attention away. It was coming from Richie's pocket. He breathed in deeply and pulled it out, muttering a dead, "I should get that.."

Everybody watched in silence as Richie did so.

"It's a voice mail, from Eddie?" He scowered the phone with his eyes, "It must have just received now, when I got a connection.." Richie spitballed, wiping his soaking eyes and patting the ground around him for his glasses. Beverly took it upon herself, and gently took his hand and placed them within it. Then, Richie clicked the play button on the voicemail.

"Hey, Rich," Eddie's voice played out of the phone's speaker, leaving everyone speechless, "Look, I know I'd never be able to say this in real life, I'd probably be too scared..." Eddie chuckled, "...And I know what you'd say, too. You'd say 'Don't be afraid, Eds, you're braver than you think' - of course. So, I'll say it here," Speaker-phone Eddie breathed out a shaky sigh, "I'm in love with you, Richie Tozier, and I always have been. I think it was returning to Derry that brought all of the feelings and memories back. I just wanted to tell you on here, just in case anything went wrong in Neibolt," A tear tricked down Richie's cheek, "So, that's it, I guess. Richie Tozier, I love you..." His voice trailed off, before the sound was cut off entirely. Richie let out a shuddering breath, collecting himself back together, with the new knowledge of Eddie's last words to him. A new collection of tears began to form in his eyes, but not sad ones. He wasn't sure what they were.

Richie wasn't sure what he was feeling, whether it was mourning, satisfaction, happiness, or love. One thing Richie did know, was that he loved Eddie back. And he prayed that, wherever in the world he was, Eddie knew this. And he would. Forever more.