Act V

Sweater Weather  |  The Neighbourhood

Richie is totally, absolutely, literally, figuratively, in every way possible, fucked. And we've said this many times before, but this time, it's undeniably true, because Richie Tozier, Richard, Four-eyes in the flesh, has finally realized that he is in love with his friend Eddie Kaspbrak.

Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. He really just thinks he has a terrifying crush on him. A simple, innocent, ridiculous crush that ought to pass within a few days or weeks if he's lucky.

Actually, scratch that. No crush. It can't be a crush, idiot. Crush, by definition, is 'a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable or inappropriate'.

Okay, fine, unscratch that out. It's definitely a crush. That's an extremely accurate description of his feelings.

Because, right now, it's not exactly the fact that he's crushing on a boy right now that's bothering him, it's the fact that he's crushing on Eddie. The Edward Kaspbrak that may as well earn the title as one of Richies best friends by now. I mean, seriously, they're friends. And only friends. That's perfectly inappropriate and unattainable! Eddie is straight. And even if he wasn't, Richie of all people? Eddie is fucking perfect! He's a blinding ray of sunshine and sassiness, who wouldn't want him?

And what would stop Eddie from dating someone like Myra?! (Richie sulks at the thought, and the fact that they actually got along when they first met). Anyone, but not Richie specifically. He's a douchebag, and not to mention an absolute fucking idiot. Eddie doesn't deserve that.

Of course, it still gets to him sometimes, the mournful reminder that it wouldn't be normal to have these kinds of feelings not only for Eddie, but for a boy in general. All of Derry ought to run him out of there with torches and pitchforks.

So basically, its been a lot to process these last few days.

But today, he has to block all of that out, because today is Friday. And it wouldn't really be all that special if it were any other Friday, except that today is the day that the Losers go to their first party together, so it's a pretty big deal. Today Richie has to devote all his energy to not drooling all over Eddie.

It's already the afternoon now, and before the Losers had split to go home, they'd agreed to meet at Bills house before the party. Richie shrugged on his jean jacket in front of the mirror and gave a thumbs up to himself, ready to head out the door.

By now, his mother had already gone out for her night shift. Perfect. As Richie pushed off of his bike and pedaled away, he checked the address scrawled on his forearm. Bill's house wasn't that far, only two or three neighborhoods away.

It can't be that hard to pretend you never had the revelation that you might like a boy, right? Richie is an actor, after all. This ought to be much easier for him already.

Richie finally approached the house, skidding his bike to a halt and sighing in relief when he saw more bikes strewn all over the lawn, and the chipped baby blue mailbox that read Denbrough.

Richie worried that it might be a hassle to enter the Denbrough residency, that Bills mother might stop him and ask questions or offer cookies, but luckily none of that happened. The door opened and she greeted him, referring to him as 'the theatre friend' before simply letting him into the house and giving directions to the basement.

When he reached the door and began descending the staircase, he overheard laughter. Lots of it. He leaped the rest of the way down the steps and saw all of his friends. Of course he had to be the one most late out of them all.

Everyone was sitting around in couches and bean bag chairs on the opposite side of the room, cackling hysterically at who stood in front of them, and at first Richie thought it was him who they might be making fun of, but then the clear sight of Eddie came into view.

And Richie had to hold in his laugh at what he saw. It was really just Eddie, except that he was dressed in his Sunday best, and had his arms crossed over his chest in a huff of annoyance toward his friends.

When he turned and saw Richie, his face grew even angrier and he pointed an accusing finger at him. "You!".

"Me?!" Richie repeated pointing to himself questioningly, trying hard not to laugh. Eddie had on a white button up collared shirt, and dress shorts with his normal sneakers.

"Yes, you asshole," he spat, "You were supposed to call and help me pick out an outfit!" he reminded him.

Ohhh, yes. He may have needed to call Eddie earlier, but was too busy alternating between staring at the phone on the wall and Eddies phone number on the extremely intimidating sticky note. Eventually he'd forgotten. Oops.

"So your brain decided to dress you in your fucking church clothes?" Stan giggled from across the room.

"I panicked!" Eddie responded, revealing his middle finger and pointing it to all of them. "All of you can go to hell".

Beverly then proceeded to calm herself of her laughing and get up, saying "I can fix this", before doing just that.

She had told all of the Losers before about her aspiring dream to work in the fashion industry. She'd always been an amazing fashion icon in school, and in tech theatre, her strong suit was the costume design. Goodness, Beverly was practically a blessing to the Theatre department of Derry High when she joined them in freshman year. From then on out, their outfits onstage outshone any other show they'd ever put on. You could practically see the change in quality of their costumes on the photos outside the classroom, dating back the years before Richie, Bev and Stan had joined theatre. (Stan doesn't participate as much, and doesn't take the class, but he's done lights for the show twice before, and Richie and Bev consider him a part of the theatre family anyways.)

In the process of giving Eddie his fixer-upper makeover, Bev demanded for Richies jean jacket, to which he whined and bitched about until he actually saw what it looked like on Eddie.

When Beverly was finally done with him, she presented him to the rest of the Losers and they all cheered her on. All she really did was undo a few of his shirt buttons, untuck it, remove his hideous belt, and top it all off with Richies nice jean jacket, but still it looked like a huge difference compared to before. He looked much more casual at least. And that damn jacket looked huge on Eddie. Richie nearly fainted.

It was pretty perfect actually. Bev had cuffed the sleeves so they weren't so big, and you could clearly see the permanent marker scribbled onto the inside that read Tozier in Richies handwriting from two years ago. Fucking heart palpitations, heart palpitations is what Richie is experiencing at the moment.

But then he remembered his objective of the day and tried his best to brush it off.

"Shit, no need to outshine the hottest one in here, Eds" Richie rolled his eyes, gesturing to himself, and everyone made varying grunted noises of disagreement in response. "Well now I need a sweater too, what the fuck am I supposed to wear" he frowned.

"I've got some stuff in that closet over there," Bill shrugged from his spot on the couch, pointing to a small closet on the other side of the staircase. "Take a look if you want".

So Richie did, and just before the Losers had rounded up to leave for the party, he pulled on a random black and grey windbreaker he'd found and they headed out the door together.

The ride to the house party wasn't far, and everyone easily followed one another on the bikes. The only issue was that Bill and Stan fought over what the address was repeatedly until it was revealed that Stan was right all along.

"It's like we're children watching our divorced parents in an argument," Richie had whispered to Ben on the ride there, evidently not quiet enough, because in response, Bill and Stan both in unison yell-"Shut up, Richie!".

"Damn, abusive parents, more like" he retorted, only Ben laughed at that.

As the Losers finally approached the house in question, it leered back at them intimidatingly. There was music booming from the inside loudly, 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World'. The outside shone bright with christmas lights, practically surrounding it, and teens waded in and out of the place easily. This house evidently goes all out for the holidays. The Losers ditched their bikes on the front lawn where others laid in the grass.

"Alright, remember your buddies?" Beverly clapped, and the Losers nodded collectively, each one of them looking to whoever they'd be stuck with for the rest of the night. Richie reluctantly looked down to meet Eddies bashful grin.

"Don't get lost, don't die, and have some fucking fun!" she finished, before running off with Ben, her buddy tonight, to hop inside the house.

"Wait what?!" Eddie exclaimed before Richie was suddenly pulling at his arm and ushering him inside.

The interior of the house was quite big, and christmas decorations practically swallowed it whole. There was a large christmas tree by the stairs, along with fast blinking lights swirled around it. A long counter just near them, lined with silver christmas garland, and red, white and green streamers all over the ceiling. Richie was unsure of how they got them up there, but that question wasn't in the stars for tonight.

Richie also took notice of the people, and how many of them were drunk. Hell, all of them were. Richie could barely find a single one person that wasn't looking absolutely shit faced or high as fuck at all. But they'd shown up late anyways.

But luckily, Richie wasn't far from it either, as he quickly spotted a lonely blunt and snatched it from the counter, finding someone to light it for him and sighing contentedly at the first inhale.

"Gross, you idiot" Eddie said abruptly from behind him, having to shout over the music. "Smoking is responsible for like, 400,000 deaths per year, did you know that?".

Richie could only roll his eyes and blow the smoke into the air, bopping his head to the music. "Whatever, man. Tonight's the night we don't think about that shit" Richie shrugged, shoving a bottle of beer to Eddies chest. Eddie took it reluctantly, partly because it was already opened, and also because it smelled like literal shit.

He gagged, and Richie laughed with a huff of smoke in the air.

He caught a glimpse of Eddies jacket, (specifically Richie's) and saw that the cuff in which showed Richie's last name was seen clear as day on Eddies arm. He hadn't realized what that might look like to anyone else if they were to see it.

He shook it off quickly and decided that now is a great time to introduce Eddie to the different variety drinks he could have. Richie pulled at his arm further until they rounded the corner and found the enclosed kitchen. Only a few people were in there, either getting drinks or making out inside the pantry. The music became muffled as the door swung closed, and Richie continued to hum the melody as he led Eddie inside.

Richie opened the fridge with lazy movements, as if this was his house and not a complete strangers, and pulled out a jug of orange juice.

He held it up to Eddies face, "I'm just going to assume you like juice," he says, followed by his own breathy laugh. The giggles ought to be coming soon.

He grabbed a Solo cup and filled it less than halfway with juice, then took a bottle of some kind of clear liquid by the neck (most likely vodka than water), and poured some in. He may have already been too high to remember when to stop, so he might have put much more then he thought he did.

That was the very first mistake of the night.

Richie gestured for Eddie to take it, and Eddie grimaced at him before picking it up and sloshing it around skeptically.

"I have a strong feeling that I'm going to regret this" he says before lifting it to his mouth and taking a large gulp.

The look on his face was... not disgusted at least.

They stayed silent for a moment, Richie suspensefully awaiting a reaction. Eddie gave him another deadly, stubborn glare before downing the rest easily and pushing the cup back toward him. Richies eyes widened, and he smirked at his sudden victory of finally getting Eddie to let loose for once. (In his weed-induced high, he may have also forgotten to tell Eddie that it was important to take it slow, especially with vodka)

He remade the drink again, but this time up to the brim, with even more vodka, and gave it to Eddie. Eddie smiled back at him, taking the drink again and sipping at it idly.

Richie took another hit of his blunt, and felt his eyes beginning to slightly burn. He blinked once or twice, coughed once, and his sigh crescendoed into a fit of airy giggles. Oh god.

Eddie lifted his head from the cup and smiled confusedly back at him. He began laughing too.

"Wh- What are we laughing at?" Eddie giggled, shaking his head. Richie rested the blunt between his own chuckling lips, and took Eddies hand again.

The song had changed. Thank god they'd stopped playing rap music earlier. It's a wonder that they hadn't started any christmas songs yet. I Melt With You boomed through the speakers, and when Richie opened the kitchen door again, they were met with a burst of sound and music. Oh, Richie loves this song.

"No fuckin' way I'm skipping out on dancing to this" Richie hollered over the noise around him. It'd have to be a miracle for Eddies ears to be able to hear what he said.

"Huh?" Eddie shouted back as Richie slowly shimmied into the dancing crowd, beginning to move his arms and body wildly with the song.

Moving forwards using all my breath,

making love to you was never second best

Richie mouthed the words as the song continued, jumping to the beat. Eddie smiled. Richie's curls flopped and moved from left to right gracefully, and his dance moves were anything but the sort. It was uncoordinated and erratic, but it was Richie, and he looked happier than he'd ever been. The chorus began, and Richie mouthed it with dramatic whips of his head.

I'll stop the world and melt with you,

You've seen the difference, and it's getting better all the time.

There were people chilling on the couch, either making out, drinking, smoking, or any other gross high school party things, and there were people in the middle of the living room, dancing their hearts out, like Richie. None of their friends were in sight, and all that was left for Eddie to do is sip at his orange juice some more and watch.

Eventually, after one or two chorus rounds went by, the slow, anticipating part of the song came on. Richie stopped abruptly, and turned to Eddie. He took out the blunt from his own lips and blew out smoke, in a way that made it look like a waterfall had turned upside down and spilled out of his mouth in zero gravity, and he started shimmying and motioning for Eddie to join him.

Eddie immediately laughed and protested, shaking his head at him and trying to distantly shoo him away (he was mostly afraid of the fact that the alcohol might have already began traveling through him, and he'd embarrass himself), but Richie was relentless, and soon he began giggling, as if something Eddie was doing was ridiculous.

Once Eddie realized that Richie might just be too high to remember Eddie dancing tomorrow, he gave in and downed the rest of his cup again, jogging quickly to where Richie danced as the fast tempo returned on the song.

I'll stop the world and melt with you,

I've seen some changes, but its getting better all the time.

There's nothing you and I won't do

I'll stop the world and melt with you.

Eddie jumped and swayed with Richie to the music, quickly becoming enveloped in the freeing feeling of being able to dance like no one is watching. There definitely were people watching, but Eddie seemed to drunk to care, and that was the best part.

Richie took both of Eddies hands in his own and jumped up and down with the song, blunt kept safe in his thumb and pointer finger as he giggled hysterically. Eddie couldn't help but laugh with him some more when Richie dropped one of Eddies hands and spun him around with the other.

So they danced. And danced. And danced and danced and danced till the song faded out and they were left laughing and giggling like little kids. Eddie didn't want this to end. He knew Richie would soon let go of his hand, since the moment had ended, but Eddie gripped it tighter. Richie smirked. He took one last hit and only the butt of his blunt remained. He flicked it onto the tiled floor and hoped it wouldn't stain or something, stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe.

Another song started up, this time one that neither of them could recognize. But they both still laughed it off and began dancing to the beat of it easily.

Meanwhile...

"Beverly, I..." Ben let out a breathy, exasperated laugh at his friend, who was currently lying drunkenly on a couch, her legs draped over Ben's lap, playing with his hair idly, humming the end of the muffled song, I Melt With You, coming from the living room a hall away. The new song began, and she groaned at the fact that it wasn't one she knew. A Santa hat had wildly appeared on her head earlier on, and no one seemed to question where it had come from.

"I feel like you've already had a lot to drink tonight, maybe take a break for a while" he says, to which she responded by taking another swig of the beer from her cup and shaking her head.

"Nuh uh, Benny boy, I think you haven't had enough to drink tonight" she retorted, shrugging with a bubbly giggle that followed.

Ben rolled his eyes with a smile, "I haven't had anything to drink because I prefer to be the designated driver of the group instead," he responded bashfully. They hadn't even brought a car at all, but Beverly must've gotten the gist, because instead of arguing with him any more, she yawned and didn't respond.

There were guys around that eyed them both curiously, and Ben just knew that he couldn't leave Beverly's side whatsoever tonight. It made him angry to see all these guys who'd just thirst over drunk girls to take advantage of. Beverly could never deserve that. So what he'd be doing all night is he would sit here sober, like her private undercover guard dog, and bark at anyone who would come too close.

Meanwhile...

"Bill! You're going to fucking kill yourself if you take another shot. Just let me play for you" Stan crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly as Bill rolled his eyes and took his defeat on the ping pong table rowed with solo cups of shots. The people on the other side of it celebrated teasingly, and were clearly more experienced. They barely had to drink at all, mostly because Bill was so horrible with his aim.

Mike stood in the corner, watching with amusement as he sipped on whatever was in his cup and tapped his foot to the outro of some random song playing from the living room. He probably shouldn't let Bill and Stan fight any longer, but right now he was too tipsy and too entertained to care.

"Just shut up, Stan, I can do this" Bill slurred with a snap, waving him off as he set his aim for another ping pong ball. He missed, Stan groaned.

"I'm on my last fucking nerve with you, Denbrough. I'm dead serious" Stan shoved him in the shoulder and stormed off. Mike stopped smiling and watched curiously, quietly, as Stan scoffed, seemingly on his way to the kitchen.

Mike was well aware of the issue surrounding Bill and Stan. He'd heard both sides of it on accident. Seeing as he was the most trustworthy of the group, Stan had easily spilled his guts about his anger for Bill one day when everyone else was late to the library and he and Mike were left alone.

Bill and Mike have the same History class, and it wasn't long till Bill confessed about their growing conflict as well while in a group project with him. Two of the exact same stories, two completely different perspectives. But Mike understood them both nevertheless.

But, to put it in short words, Bill has been 'acting like a major dick way too much' to Stan recently, and Stan has been 'treating me like shit on a stick' to Bill too much recently. Obviously it's deeper than that. A lot deeper, but Mike has already done his part in letting his friends vent to him, and he shouldn't be trying to connect the dots like some insane theorist that meddles into peoples lives. Specifically his friends. He wouldn't do that to them.

But, what he would do for his friends, is anything. And anything includes fixing friendships and ending whatever feud is going on between them.

Deciding what the hell could go wrong, Mike follows Stan to the living room, hoping to be able to talk to him about Bill.

That was the second mistake of the night.

Meanwhile...

Richie and Eddie were already on their fourth song of the night, even more loose than before.

The song ended, and Eddie let out an exasperated breath of air. Right about now would be the time he'd reach his inhaler, but it seemed he was too drunk to remember that he had asthma at all, and he ran his hand through his hair like he hadn't broken a sweat.

As another song started up (it was something different, with a slow tempo), Eddie shifted his attention to being able to get back to the kitchen for another drink.

Richie had stopped dancing and eyed him dumbfoundedly, deciding to follow him, trying to catch up as he pushed past people all around.

Eddie accidentally bumped into someone on the way there and apologized under his breath, too focused on the need for that orange juice, and too drunk to notice that it was his friend Stanley who he'd run into at all. Stanley, holding a cup of something that luckily didn't spill anywhere.

Richie was high as fuck. That was the understatement of the night, because by now he'd already smoked two blunts (well, one and two thirds to be specific), and his body was essentially the equivalent to a squirrels. Imagine a squirrel smoking two blunts? (well, one and a half to be specific) That damn squirrel ought to be dead.

But Richie was alive and well, eyes practically bloodshot and head swimming in the clouds. The world was shifting hues every ten seconds, and every now and then he'll lose his balance because he thinks he's floating.

He'll be fine. Maybe he'll get a drink or two to ground himself a little. But that's not what he's thinking about right now.

Dancing with Eddie was like... like... well, actually, Richie is way too high to make up any sensible metaphors right now, so let's just say Richie was having the time of his fucking life just about now. Watching Eddie be able to have fun and let loose is a rare sight, and he feels like the luckiest person alive to be able to see that glowing bright grin of his at all.

Richie finally found Eddie, who was tripping and stumbling his way into the kitchen, and he quickly ran to him. Richie may be high as fuck right now, but for some reason now he grasps the clear reminder that Eddie shouldn't go so hard on his drinking or he'll end up with a killer headache tomorrow. Or worse, end up doing something stupid tonight.

No one else was in the kitchen as Eddie grabbed a new cup from the stack (that of which had been taller before). He began filling it with orange juice, and Richie walked in right on time to catch him making it.

"Woah woah woah, Eds, that's a fuck ton to drink," Richie waved at him with a nervous laugh, alarmed. "Uh, maybe you could take a little break from this, eh? Just take a seat for a while" he approached him slowly.

Eddie turned his head to him and stuck his tongue out teasingly as he poured in the vodka. Richie rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle, setting it down on the counter and away from Eddie. He grabbed the Solo cup too and shook his head at Eddies groan of protest.

Eddie got a hold on his drink, two hands clutching the cup over Richie's hand, and huffed frustratedly. He pulled back on it, and Richie scoffed and did the same.

"No way, dude, you're already shit faced in case you haven't noticed" Richie says, gripping the cup tighter and refusing to let go.

Eddie whined, struggling to take it back. "You fuckin' hypocrite, you're the one that got me to drink it in the first place" he retorted, making an angry grimace at Richie before pulling harder at his drink.

Richie sighed in defeat at that comment, because it was true, but still didn't let go.

They continued fighting over the cup, the song from the living room booming it's bass into the kitchen. Richie finally relented and let go of it, resulting in it splashing all over Eddie on his dress shirt.

Third mistake of the night.

"Ugh, Richie, you asshole!" Eddie cursed, his words sort of slurring as the drink soaked through his shirt. He pushed past Richie with an extra shove and made his way out of the kitchen.

Richie groaned in frustration. Eddie was much harder to handle while intoxicated.

He grabbed the bottle of vodka by the neck and took a large swig out of impulse. He winced as the liquid slid down his throat. Tonight was already fucked enough as it is. He knew dancing with Eddie was just too good to be true. There was bound to be something getting in the way of tonight.

Thinking back, no. Maybe that was the understatement of the night.

Alright, well this is where things start to get messy...

okayyy so i didnt mean to lie about it getting spicy lmfao, its just that while i was writing, the chapter got a bit too long so i decided to cut it into two parts instead. so you'll be getting what i promised sooner than you think, because its already pretty much halfway finished. alright i hope you enjoyed! stay tuned for the rest😈 - author