No One But You ✔️ Reddie

Sixteen

Eddie wandered up to Richie's door. He was hoping to see him, having scarpered the morning after their illicit liaison a week ago. He had toyed with disappearing; it seemed the easier option, but he couldn't stop thinking about Richie. He needed closure this time, needed to end it.

'Hey!' Richie greeted, opening the door. He beckoned Eddie to come and sit with him on the sofa. 'Thought for a minute that I might not see you again,' he laughed, trying to hide his genuine concern. He bit his lip. 'I had a good time the other night.'

Eddie sighed. Honesty bust out, 'I did too.'

Richie grinned. 'More keeps coming back to me, you know. Like,' he jumped up and ran to the dresser. He scrambled, then pulled something out and placed it in Eddie's hands. 'Do you remember these?'

Eddie held the set of photographs up. He flipped them over: R+E. 'I remember,' he said quietly.

'I'm remembering other people too,' Richie said, scattering over the room. He had so much energy, bounding like a puppy. 'Like Stan. Do you remember Stan? And um, was it Will?'

'Bill.' Eddie said, with a small laugh. 'Bill Denbrough.' Then he shook his head, 'No, that's an author. I must be getting mixed up.'

Richie jumped back down next to Eddie and squeezed either side of his face. 'God, I feel like I'm figuring so much out. So much more stuff makes sense to me,' he exhaled heavily, releasing toxicity with every breath.

Richie loved remembering who he was; it directly correlated with who he had become.

Eddie felt a disconnect. Who he used to be made no sense to him now, made no sense with the life he had cultivated, the life he'd intended to lead. Because who Eddie was now had almost nothing to do with Richie, and almost everything to do with his mother.

Richie settled himself awkwardly on the sofa, with one leg propped underneath himself so that he could bring his face closer to Eddie's. He let his hands drag down Eddie's shoulders and arms to his hands. Eddie was so fantastically real, so solid and gratifying, a monument to his history and sense of self.

'Eddie, I have some news. Big fucking news, okay. Are you ready?' Richie asked.

Eddie knew that he wasn't.

'My agent found someone who wants to do a recording of one of my shows. Then, they want to start me on a tour.'

'That's amazing,' Eddie gushed. 'Congratulations.'

Richie beamed, then his face dropped. 'There's only one catch. I'm moving to LA.'

Eddie's gut wrenched. He couldn't help but feel the way he'd felt when Richie had gone the first time. His brain yelled at him: Richie loved you, and then he left. Why should things be different now? You came here to end things with him, and just like the carving on the kissing bridge, the asshole beat you to it.

'I want you to come with me, Eds,' Richie said suddenly.

Eddie spluttered, 'What?'

'I know it's crazy,' Richie nodded, pushing his hair back. 'Fuck, it's really crazy, but I think,' he hovered over Eddie before clasping his hand on his neck. 'I think there's still something here.'

Eddie was stunned. He was furious and overwhelmed, exasperated and terrified. 'Richie, I can't,' he said eventually. 'You can't just waltz back into my life and expect me to uproot everything for you.'

'I'm asking a lot. God, I know that. I just – fuck. I can't lose you again. I won't.' He babbled, then pressed his lips to Eddie's.

Eddie pulled away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and getting up from his seat, 'You don't even know me anymore.'

'I know you. We were together for six years.' Richie said, following him around the room. 'I loved you for six years.' 

'Twelve years ago,' Eddie hammered.

'It doesn't just go away,' Richie retorted.

'But it did!' Eddie yelled. 'You left, and you forgot.' He could feel the pinkness burning in his cheeks. He could remember the aching in his bones, the tear as Richie broke his heart when they were eighteen.

Richie's lungs convulsed. 'But it didn't go away. Surely you know that as well as I do. Fuck, my whole adult life I've been missing you.'

'Our adult lives are incompatible.' Eddie said matter-of-factly, pushing past Richie and searching for his coat.

'Eds, come on.' Richie begged, gripping Eddie's arm and spinning him back around to face him. 'It's you and me.'

Eddie didn't want to cry. He needed to get out of here before he did. 'You forgot me once. You can do it again.'

Richie reeled. He spoke, starting slowly and low, ever increasing in pitch, pace and volume. 'Why the fuck would you say something like that? Why the fuck would you wish something like that? What the actual fuck?'

Eddie closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the expression on Richie's face. 'Jesus fucking Christ. Richie, I'm engaged.'

Richie felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. It hurt. A lot. 'Oh. Fuck,' he said, spinning around. He thought he might vomit. 'Right, um,' he sat on the arm of the sofa. 'Congratulations,' he said, sniffing. 'What's – what's his name?'

Eddie winced. 'Her name is Myra.'

Richie scoffed, 'Excuse me?'

'Myra,' Eddie said steadily.

'Eddie,' Richie said leadingly.

'We've been together a long time,' Eddie added.

'I thought I was supposed to be the comedian.' Richie said flatly. There was a new anger in his eyes, borne of humiliation and grief.

'Richie,' Eddie started.

'Should I put it in my next act?' Richie mused, approaching Eddie again. 'Eddie Kaspbrak is going to have a wife. Hold for applause.'

'Beep beep, Richie,' Eddie said softly, nostalgically even through his sad frustration.

'Hang on,' Richie twitched. 'When were you planning on telling me this?'

Eddie clenched his jaw. 'I'm telling you now.'

Richie laughed, 'But you weren't going to. Fucking hell. Was I supposed to wait for the fucking invite?'

'I couldn't –' Eddie began, but Richie continued his tirade.

'What about a best man's speech from me?' His eyes were wide, frantic. 'Bet I've got a few stories I could tell that your wife wouldn't much like. Starting with last week, perhaps.'

Eddie shuffled, 'That was a mistake.'

Richie's mouth dropped open. 'Don't say that. You don't mean that.' He swept forward and kissed Eddie again, pushing him up against his front door.

'I'm sorry,' Eddie said, pulling away, grappling behind him for the doorknob. If he didn't leave now, he would never escape. 'I think I should go.'

'No.' Richie whispered, then said firmly, 'No.'

Eddie opened the door. 'Good luck in LA,' he choked, and left.

'Eddie!' Richie yelled, his fist slamming against the closed door.