richie’s face is buried in stan’s chest and his ears are ringing and his fingers are twitching. he’s crying but can’t feel it and his chest is heavy. he’s letting himself go, he knows that, but eddie says it’s fine. stan tells him, “i’ll hold you as long as you need me to.” tells him he’s okay. they both know he isn’t. they both know he’s a fucking disaster, and that he won’t be okay for a long time. it’s eddie. it’s always eddie. it’s always been eddie, and it always will be. eddie breaks his heart, but kissing bill when richie was having a bad day was the end of it. it wasn’t kissing bill the way all the losers kissed each other. it was an actual kiss. it meant something. everyone knew it, no one said anything, and richie sat there staring at his feet. now he’s in stan’s bed, in his arms, crying into his chest. stan knows richie won’t want him for a long time. he needs space, time. if he ever even does want stan. it hurts. oh, yeah, it fucking hurts, watching his best friend’s heart get broken and watching richie tozier break down and cry and yell. richie’s the comic relief, he always has been. so when he’s bawling hysterically and shaking and gripping stan’s shirt, it’s serious. stan kisses richie’s forehead and nose. tells him he is enough, that eddie’s just too fucking selfish for him. he gets richie water and advil and neither of them leave the other one’s side for weeks. it all ends in december. december thirty first, at eleven fifty nine, a minute before midnight, stan kisses richie. and they both feel it. they both know that they’ll be okay. they move to the city together in an apartment across from the other losers, and richie and eddie become best friends again, and richie supposes that’s what they were supposed to be. less than lovers. and he was okay with that.
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
amandla
ellievsbear
origamiaround
andulkaphoto
areudirty
germansingergirl
