INTERMISSION

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything | Bauhaus

...

Wh- ... What are you doing here?

..

Uh, it's intermission, shouldn't you be in the lobby getting a snack or... taking a piss or something? No one has ever really stayed in here for intermission before...

Well, anyways, what do you want?

You want to know what happens next? In the story?

Um, I dunno, that's just kind of weird, don't you think? You're about to see it in, like, fifteen minutes.

Hm.

Maybe I could tell you about the in-between?

..

The in-between? You know, what the story won't tell you, but I will.

Yes? Alright then, take a seat, I guess. I'll be telling you about winter break for the Losers Club.

Now, as we all know, the Losers made up last time we saw them. Under unfortunate circumstances, maybe, but still. And although neither of them know exactly how this came into effect in the first place, the two who began this turn of events know very well just how.

After that fateful night at Tommy C.'s house, the Losers walked to Bill's house and huddled into his cold basement, rolling out sleeping bags and catching up on each others lives brazenly. Calling Mike all together with a sincere apology for the crazy time of night, and for leaving him out this whole time, blabbering on about how much they missed him like a fucking mantra.

All the while, a certain raven haired idiot was keeping quiet for the first time in for-fucking-ever, only talking when spoken to, laughing when appropriate, hopefully unsuspectingly. Giving worried side-glances to the brunette across the room every once in a while, who would return them with equally as bewildered expressions.

And what exactly were they doing this for? Well, you see, for a while they were doing the enemies with benefits type thing on one another. Hate each other, kiss on the sidelines. It's easier when your friends aren't integrated, because they wouldn't suspect a damn thing. But now... it's different.

They haven't had the fucking time of day to talk about this, literally, since it was still about 2 am at the time. But, what does this mean for them? Is this the end? Do we just... deal with this? What the fuck do we do?

"You can sleep on the floor next to Richie" Bill had casually said to Eddie as they were getting ready for bed. Everyone had lost rock paper scissors to Stan for dibs on the couch, and Beverly quickly stole the (slightly uncomfortable, but eh) mini couch in the corner of the room before anyone else could.

Eddie huffed out a disappointed sigh of okay before sinking into his sleeping bag beside Richie (who already had his face squished into the pillow), watching the florescent lights that flickered every once in a while go out entirely, only a small lamp on the coffee table by the stairs being a source of light for them (they had agreed that one night light was sufficient enough for all of them tonight).

Although the lamp was small and weak, it supplied just enough light to bloom a soft glow onto the side of both their faces. It was hard for Richie to not just want to stare, his lips threatening to curl helplessly into a warm smile at the view of Eddie like this. Tired as fuck, sure, but still soft, eyes fluttering tiredly and everything feeling slow and like melted butter. Richie was surely just as drowsy as him too, and that must have been part of the reason he longed to roll over and stuff himself into Eddie's sleeping bag comfortably, whether he fit in it with him or not.

Mind wandering dizzily to the reminder of what it felt like to place his own lips on his. Of what it might feel like if they weren't always so rushed, always laced with pleasure and a tinge of disappointment all in one. What was it that he was missing? He had Eddie. All that he wanted of him. Why is he so inconveniently unsatisfied?

Richie watched Eddie's tired eyes close for the night slowly, with a pit in his stomach, unknown. Eventually he dozed off too, lulled by the sight of Eddie's lips turned up into a small smile, as though he were having a wonderful dream of his own.

The next morning was literal hell for them all, and even worse because they had to rush out before Bill's mom could notice they were hungover.

They all got their bikes and rode over to Mike's place in the chilly weather, begging him to come with them for the day. Of course, he gave in easily, and they automatically did a warm group hug (Eddie struggling to breathe in the very middle).

Then Beverly, Stan and Richie introduced them to their favorite diner, the one by the school in which they go to after every party, and Eddie pretended to see it for the first time. Richie's heart swelled at the reminder, then deflated again with the lingering fact that it had to be like this.

So they cramped into a booth and laughed about the stupidity of the night before. Ordering whatever they wanted and chipping in together for the ridiculous bill. Everything was alright. Just like it was before all the insane shit happened. Déjà vu of them sitting in this exact position in the lunch room.

And so it sort of continued on like that all weekend, meeting for breakfast or lunch, and not going home until late hours of the night, too caught up in their own world as friends to be anywhere better.

Well, that was until Mike announced that he had lots of chores to do for Tuesday, and that Bill's mom wanted to go Christmas shopping for the rest of his family that are coming over for the holiday, and so on. Pretty much everyone was busy. So after Monday, the Losers collectively decided to spend the day apart for once.

Richie, on his end, had absolutely nothing to do, and by morning his mom was fast asleep from her night shift at the hospital.

Biting his lip, unsure of what to do, he impulsively grabbed his coat and biked to Eddie's house. If he had something to do today, fuck it, he'll introduce himself to Mrs. Kaspbrak and smile his way to her heart.

Jesus Christ, Richie thought as the Kaspbrak residence door swung open, revealing a large, large woman in a christmas themed robe. It was tight and barely covered her round stomach, but she had some sort of nightgown under.

Richies nervous eyes traveled up to the woman's face, which had it's own angry resting bitch face that had him taken aback for a moment. Well this ought to be harder than I thought.

"Hi ma'am," he greeted cheerfully, flashing her his charming smile as he rocked on his feet awkwardly.

She looked him up and down, and gave a somewhat grimace to his choice of outfit today. It was one of his wild colorblock button ups that he loved so much, along with his washed light jeans, cuffed to where they met his converse. And a windbreaker draped over his forearm to top it all off. Why he wasn't wearing it? Unclear, seeing as he was shivering slightly in the cold windy day that it was.

"I- I was wondering if I could talk to Eddie," Richie says, trying to ignore the way her ugly looks were just screaming judgement. "We're friends."

She paused for a moment, hesitating and eyeing him suspiciously. "You're here to see my Eddie?" she repeated, and for a moment Richie was unsure of whether she was hard of hearing or not. Obviously, lady, now please, I'm freezing my anus out here!

"Yes indeedy" he grinned toothily again, and she gave another odd glance before sticking her head back into the house. He heard a faint "Eddie bear!" and fast-paced footsteps before the door swung open again, this time revealing the person he actually wanted to see.

"What the fuck are you doing here" Eddie hissed, his voice lowering, even though his mom was already traveling to the kitchen and rolling her eyes.

Richie snorted out a laugh, earning another side eye from Sonia Kaspbrak across the room. "What do you mean? Just... wanted to see you" he shrugged sheepishly, and the last words came out oh so genuinely, that Eddie's eyes softened, and all he did was huff out a breath and pull him into the house abruptly.

"Eddie Bear! What are you doing?" Mrs. Kaspbrak hollered confusedly as Eddie tugged him up the stairs quickly.

"Just gonna talk for a second, Ma. He'll be out in a minute!" Eddie responded over his shoulder, and Richie held his chest as though he'd been punched.

"Low blow, man" he joked, and Eddie rolled his eyes with a smirk.

For a minute, as Eddie slammed the door to his bedroom behind him, Richie thought maybe Eddie was about to turn around and attack him with a kiss. For a second.

Eddie whipped around and immediately punched him in the shoulder. Ow.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed again, as though his mom was in the room with them and not an entire flight of stairs away.

Richie didn't respond, taking a seat on Eddie's neat bed and only slightly disappointed that his thoughts weren't reality at this point.

He watched Eddie bite his lip nervously, only making it harder to hold back. Him. Eddie. Room. Alone? The only things they've done in a room alone together is... well you know. Stupid fucking Pavlov's dog, right?

Eddie sighed heavily and dropped his guard. "Do you even know how horrible a time it is to be here right now?" he mumbled, rubbing his temples as he begins pacing around his room. Déjà vu all over again.

"Nope, but I assume it's a better time than 12 am again?" that earned him another punch to the arm.

"My aunts are coming over! In like... two minutes! I'd rather kill myself than have to introduce you to them!" He exclaims in a fit of panic.

Richie scoffed. "None taken" he said monotonously. Eddie rolls his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but they're... ugh... they just don't tend to like people like you" he says slowly, shrugging.

Richie's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" he says, the tone of offence creeping into his voice.

Eddie stumbles on his words a bit. "It's- I meant-... Jesus, you know what I mean, Rich. You're loud and too honest and would not do well mixed in with a bunch of judgemental adults" he exclaims.

Richie scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, feigning offence. "For your information, I'm an actor, I can be anything in front of adults" he remarks proudly.

That seemed to spark an idea into Eddie's head.

"What?" Richie said when he noticed Eddie's growing revelation face. Eddie looked to him and smiled.

"Mom! I'm so glad you got to meet my science partner, Todd, remember the one I mentioned a while ago?" Eddie grinned sweetly at his mother, who raised her eyebrows at the two.

So maybe this is a bad idea. And maybe they should tell the truth instead. But Richie remembers Sonia Kaspbrak from church not long ago, giving his mother the stink eye from across the aisles and whispering to other mothers with a glare. She would definitely know who he was if he even mentioned his last name. And she would definitely kick him out on the spot.

"Yes, of course, Eddie" Sonia nods, and Richie can see the way she tries to mask the confused grimace that threatens to show.

Richie smiles back at her, then quickly remembers the character he's supposed to be pretending to be. His smile drops, and he kicks lightly at the floor with a shy expression.

"Yeah, and remember, he's not exactly all there" Eddie nods matter-of-factly, gesturing to his own head. "He's suffered lots of trauma." Richie looks up and nods with a frown.

"His parents are dead-" Richie kicks at Eddie's shin, because he got the fucking story wrong. "Divorced!" Eddie exclaims.

"They got divorced, and then they died. He's an orphan" he nods solemnly. Richie gives her the saddest most realistic puppy eyes he could muster up (while also trying his hardest not to laugh).

"Well that's just horrible" she says, giving a sympathetic frown to Richie/Todd.

Eddie in fact did have a science partner named Todd, whose parents are alive and well. Now he just hopes to god he'll never have to meet his mother.

"Yeah, it is" Eddie nods. "We actually have a science project over winter break that's due when we get back to school."

Richie can't wait to get out with Eddie. Out of this odd house that smelled like disinfectant and had couches in the living room covered in plastic. He'd even gotten a glimpse of a cupboard absolutely fucking full of pill bottles.

"I was wondering if I could head out with him to buy the things we need for it, yknow?" Eddie was practically jumping, jittery and impatient. Richie lightly kicked his shin again.

"Oh, well sure" Sonia nods, and Richie has to hold in the relieved sigh that he feels thrumming within him.

Eddie squeaks out a quick 'great!' before giving her a peck on the cheek and racing out the door, with Richie being pulled closely behind him.

They don't actually go into town for their fake science project. They go to Richie's house and make out for an hour or so, letting themselves forget the complicated bit about their friends and what's bound to happen later on. None of that matters now, when they're clung to one another, lips locked and having to keep quiet due to Richie's mother snoring a few rooms away.

As he's trailing wet kisses down the collar of Eddie's neck, has him laid out on his bed in front of him, Richie realizes that he likes this a lot more. Rather than the janitors closet or the fucking auditorium. No fear. The only risk is his mother hobbling in without her contacts on, drowsy with sleep. And even that isn't happening. Hell no.

When they do things like this, they try to ignore the way Eddie sometimes lets out small noises from the back of his throat. And the way Richie stares at him with cloudy eyes for a second before going back in for a kiss. It's embarrassing, for Eddie at least, but in the moment neither of them care.

Eddie wasn't really sure what that look Richie always gave him was, but he knew well enough that it was good.

For the both of them, there was always the extra want, though. The need, rumbling low in their chests, like a magnet that's compelled to get closer. Closer than they already are. But whatever it was, it's probably too much if anything.

The next day, most of the Losers are still busy, and Richie hangs around his own house all day, occasionally calling Stan, who's stuck in a family event and is constantly begging Richie to ring him up every once in a while to get a break from the chaos of his Hanukkah celebration.

When the clock strikes 7 pm, Richie thinks he's had enough time all on his own, and he frankly couldn't care less about Eddie's fucking aunts.

"Hello?"

"Hi ma'am this is Todd calling-" Richie doesn't even have to finish his nasally Todd Voice before he hears yelling and rustling on the other end.

"Hey!- yyyy Todd" he hears the warm voice of Eddie appear on the phone, and he smiles.

"Hello Eddie, would you like to come over and work on our project together" Richie continues in his Todd Voice, which is slightly robotic for some reason, smirking when he hears Eddie giggle.

"God please, you need to get me away from these horrible women" Eddie says, gagging. "All they do is gamble and talk shit about me in front of my face" he whispers.

Richie laughs. "Alright, your wish is my command. Well, would you consider this a booty call, Spagheds?" He just knows he'd get a hard punch on the shoulder right now if Eddie were here, and that just makes him laugh harder when Eddie exclaims a loud, surprised "Fuck you!" into the phone.

And so Eddie comes over, and they make out for an hour or so, not much else going on.

When the clock strikes 9pm, Richie's mother has already woken up.

Richie was sure to keep in check on whether he could hear footsteps or not, paranoid.

But the second he heard the light pads of his mother's converse down the hall, he flew off of Eddie from his bed, crashed to the floor with a thud, grabbed a handful of comics and threw them at Eddie in time before the doorknob screwed open.

Eddie was obviously taken aback by this, but quickly caught on and acted as normal as possible in front of Maggie Tozier, grinning at her sweetly as if her son didn't just have his tongue down his own throat half a second ago.

Maggie had already fixed herself up before she greeted them, entirely with contacts back on, a shower, and new hospital scrubs with a butterfly pattern on them.

"Hey mom, this is Eds, you probably haven't met him yet" Richie says casually, a comic book or two held over his lap tensely.

"It's Eddie, I'm Eddie" he corrects with slightly gritted teeth.

Maggie hums out an oh of approval, suspecting absolutely nothing. "Well hey Eds, you're welcome anytime" Maggie says with a shrug, then turns to Richie.

"Hey Rich, I'm headed out for work, you got dinner figured out or you want me to leave a couple a bucks?" she says softly, tapping the frame of the door idly.

Richie shrugs, just like his mom, "I'll just make some-" "Spaghetti" They both say in unison with a laugh.

"Alright, well you two boys have fun, you know the number if you need anything" she points to Richie with finger guns, quickly skipping into the bedroom to place a quick peck on the crown of Richie's mussed up hair. In fact, both of them are quite surprised she hadn't noticed how absolutely wrecked Richie's hair was at the moment.

When she was finally gone, and Richie heard the rattle of the garage door opening, he sighed in relief as his shoulders slumped.

"Whew!" Richie exclaimed with half a laugh, pretending to wipe at his forehead.

"God, never do that to me again" Eddie snaps with an exhausted sigh, smacking the comic in his hand flat on the bed. "And why'd she call me Eds?! Apparently the apple does not fall far from the tree."

Richie snorts out a laugh, and they continue on with a stupid conversation that neither of them care about, like that over and over.

Then Eddie's watch abruptly rings with an alarm, startling both the boys. Looking down to see, Eddie gasps in shock.

Before Richie can say anything more in response, Eddie is scrambling to hop off of the bed. "What- What is it, Eds?" Richie queries in concern, grunting off of the floor in pursuit of Eddie, who is stumbling out the door to the bedroom.

Eddie frowns, "It's so fucking late, Rich, my mom is going to have an aneurysm if I stay out any later, or worse, she finds out we're lying" he says, panicked.

Richie rolls his eyes as they both make their way downstairs. "You say that too much."

"Because it's true!" Eddie exclaims, fondling with the alarm on his watch for a second, turning it off. "Your mom seems chill, but mine is a whole other story," Eddie is still rambling when they're already facing the front door, and Richie is smirking down at him.

"She once called in for a missing child's report after I stayed for tutoring at school without... telling her..." Eddie is trailing off when Richie opens the door wide to reveal the wild snow that's falling down before them. A snowstorm, to be more specific.

Well, fuck.

Richie is still smirking, and Eddie can practically tell without looking, even as he himself is gaping in shock still at the condition of weather outside.

"I really can't stay, but baby it's cold outside" Richie sings jokingly, alternating between an over-the-top female voice and a low one.

Eddie glares at him as they shut the door.

Richie beams giddily, turning around and nearly tripping as he heads to the other side of the counter in the kitchen. "You promised that you'd try my world famous spaghetti, and now is the best time to do so" Richie says, raising his eyebrows.

And so that's how Eddie Kaspbrak gets stuck in the Tozier residence, a snow storm raging on outside as he watches Richie Tozier get to work, cooking up his spaghetti while Eddie sits on the counter, legs swinging idly as he watches Richie do his thing. Richie had turned on the radio not long before, and now he was humming to whatever song was playing in the background, stirring the pasta and bopping his head funnily. They talk about nonsense like they always do, bickering till their ears fall off.

Eddie seems slightly more tense, but there could be a million reasons why at this point, so all Richie does is roll his eyes.

Richie was almost done now, and turned off the stove to one of the pots. He dipped a finger into the sauce and tasted it with a content hum.

"Here, try it Eds! Best fuckin' thing in the world, right?" Richie exclaims as he hands over a wooden spoon of sauce for him to taste.

Eddie contorts his face into a grimace jokingly as he tastes it, deciding to humble the many boy a little. "Eh, could use some salt" he giggled as Richie scoffed dramatically.

"As if" he said in a valley girl accent, rolling his eyes. "I think you're just jealous that it's the most amazing thing you've ever tasted in this shithole universe" he grins, leaning over the counter to tease Eddie properly.

Eddie scrunches his nose with a shy smile when Richie places a quick kiss on his lips.

Eddie wipes it off without hesitation, huffing out an embarrassed laugh, despite the butterflies that crowded his stomach. "Don't do that," Eddie says.

Richies eyebrows raise as he retracts back to his cooking station. "Why?" he laughs, turning behind him to see how the pasta is looking.

Eddie shrugs shyly, "It's... weird" he says, tracing circles into the marble of the counter.

Richie turns off the stove of the pasta, pursing his lips. He only partly knew what Eddie meant, but decided to push on it anyways.

"Weird how?" he asked again, throwing the dish rag over his shoulder and leaning his tall frame on the counter with a cock of his head.

"We were just doing that a few minutes ago, how's this any different?" Richie tone was becoming more irritable as Eddie rolled his eyes and looked around the room, as though a good explanation for his thoughts was somewhere on the fucking wallpaper.

"It's not, it's just- .... I don't know, I thought you understood!" Eddie exclaimed with a lost shrug. Richie furrowed his eyebrows.

"Understood what!"

"It's not the same, Richie, it's just not!" Eddie shouts, hopping off of his stool from the other side of the counter as he walks across the room to the entrance of the living room, only to turn and come back.

Richie rolls his eyes as he notices Eddie's recognizable actions. He's pacing, of course he's fucking pacing.

"Would you stop it with that? You don't have to burn five-thousand calories every time you freak out" Richie complains.

"Oh shut the fuck up, asshole, it's a normal response to frustration. And I'm not freaking out right now!" Eddie spat back, beginning his pattern of back and forth in the house with a huff.

Richie dumps the pasta in the draining pot a little aggressively as he scoffs. "It was one fucking kiss, what's wrong with that compared to literally making out?" he asks, gesturing his hand to his room, where they were just kissing like it was normal, everyday occurence (which it sort of was).

Eddie rubs his fingers over his temples with his eyes closed, "Shut the fuck up, Richie" he mumbles, only giving him a deathly glare before continuing to pace.

"No no, I wanna know what's so fucked up about me kissing you. Is it that you're 'not gay'?" Richie says, his air quotes dramatic in the atmosphere between them.

"Hey, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Eddie argues, his ears growing hot. "I- I'm not."

Richie ignores him. "Or is it that it's just me. I'm the special one for you. Your personal little fucktoy, huh?"

"What the fuck, Richie! That's not what this is and you know it!" Eddie says, shocked.

"Then what is this, Eddie?" he queries as the room grows silent, awaiting an answer. "Hm, what are we?"

Eddie stumbles on his words, random syllables falling out of his mouth, but soon ends up having nothing to say. Richie sighs deeply. "I-... Rich-"

"Eddie," he cut in, his voice softer as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "You know nothing is wrong with... us, right?"

This seemed to snap Eddie into a silence. One that Richie could tell did not mean anything good.

Eddie abruptly scoffed, a firm sound that Richie recognized as filled with pure hatred. He felt it pierce through him like a dagger of ice, along with his next few words.

"Are you kidding? I'm not-... I-I'm not a fucking fag like you, dude."

Richie pauses. He felt his body stiffen like nothing he's ever experienced. Pain, like nothing he's ever experienced. The storm outside raged on with a loud strike of thunder, as though it knew exactly what was happening in the Tozier residence and mimicked its tense atmosphere. Richie's blood ran cold, face draining of any and all color.

Even Eddie seemed pained for it to have come out of his mouth, but his face was set and firm as though he had no intention of taking it back and had nothing left to say.

Sure, Richie had heard this word spewed at him plenty of times. At school, in the halls, and even on the street in town once.

But from Eddie? Someone he's close with? A friend? (And was possibly perhaps more than a friend, up until this fucking moment).

Richie swallowed the emotions that threatened to spill, left himself to feel the bottled up pain in his chest that came with it. He couldn't let Eddie see him cry. Especially if he's the fucking reason why.

"Oh yeah? Then what are you, Eds?" Richie pushed on. Of course his fucking mouth would spur this on for longer. They don't call him fucking trashmouth for nothing.

"So you just love to play with boys' fucking feelings then, huh? Make em' hurt then leave them in the dust to pick up the broken pieces of themselves?" Richie yammered, cursing at himself for the tear that had rolled down his cheek. His eyes burned with the effort not to make this any worse, but it was just a dam waiting for the worst time to break after all.

Too late for that.

"Or just mine?" Richie outright sobbed quietly, his finger pointing softly to his heart as he stared at Eddie.

"So what if I am then, Eds, huh?" he spat, quickly wiping his tears shamefully.

"A fag, a fucking fruit, whatever. What if I was?"

Eddie is crying too by now, has been since Richie first spoke after him, although Richie isn't even sure why. But he's sniffing and avoiding Richie's eyes sadly.

It's painfully quiet, and that makes Richie's heart hurts worse. Eddie doesn't like him anymore. No, he hates him, doesn't he. He's fucking disgusted! Why would you say that, idiot? Oh god.

Richie weeps silently as Eddie rubs his own arm, looking around. "I- I should... I should go" he says, wiping his wet eyes and turning to the door.

Richie sighs, sniffing and wiping his nose. "Eddie, stop it, you can't go out there" he says, though he makes little effort to stop him at all.

"My mom is going to kill me, Richie" Eddie says quietly, giving him half of a sincere glance before opening the door in welcome to the billowing wind outside.

Just as he steps out, "Wait!" Richie calls, with his stuffy nose and somber tone.

When Eddie looks back, Richie is in front of him, holding out a bright yellow box. His camera.

"Take it," he says, and it comes off aggressive, although he places it gently in the palm of Eddies hand. "I found it at the party... last friday night" he says, not daring to look up at Eddie, who he can tell is grateful for the save.

"That's all" Richie bites his lip, hesitantly turning away as Eddie, also hesitantly, shuts the door behind him.

Eddie does not end up getting frostbite, but his mother scolds him when he gets home, drenched in the cold, snowflakes battering his hair and eyelashes. She forces him to chug the remainder of their Nyquil, which isn't much, but is enough for him to sink into his bed and fall asleep in a snap, tears staining his pillow in the night and unsure of when he stopped crying at all.

Richie, with his cold spaghetti and empty home, packs the food he made in bags, saving it for when he actually has an appetite.

He snuggles close to many pillows on his mother's bed, weeping into the silence of the night and eventually dozing off, intrusive thoughts battering into his mind, and giving him quite frankly the worst dreams he's ever had.

The next day, Christmas Eve, the Losers decide to spend lunch together at last, gathering at the diner as their final 'Happy Holidays!' to one another before Christmas day.

Richie doesn't show, and Eddie is awfully late to the get together, heart pounding with the possibility of Richie being there.

He wasn't, and the Losers exchange gifts happily, oblivious to the rift that had just been made between the two members. They give Stan Richie's gifts, agreeing that he could check up on the lanky boy and assure that he's alright. Stan proudly takes the gifts (three, approximately) and oaths to successfully transport the wrapped beauties to Tozier's residence.

Eddie laughs with them all, doing well with masking his fear as he's constantly breaking into a cold sweat in silence, guilt seething into his bones like acid. It hurts. It hurts knowing that Richie is hurting. Because of him. But he can't possibly imagine what Richie is going through anyway. God, he's so stupid.

On Christmas day, the Losers, as expected, are all in their own little world full of family and food and tradition. Richie forgets to turn the christmas lights on when his mom gets home early in the morning, but when she does, there's presents surrounding the little tree proudly, like an army of patterned boxes ready to make a family happy. There's not many, of course, but how much do you expect from a minimum-wage-living family of two? Yeah.

Richie had seen the presents, wrapped and stuffed into the broom closet late November like he always does, but nevertheless was excited to see. Thankfully, his mom got through opening them all before collapsing into a sound sleep on the couch soon after.

Content with the events of the morning, Richie covers her with a blanket and a smile, though a headache began to pound at his head.

It's lunchtime when Stan finally gets the time to slip away from his family and head to Richie's house. And by that time, as Stan is knocking on the door with a handful of presents, Richie is opening the door for him, sneezing into a box of tissues and groaning dramatically.

"So, are you gonna tell me what the fuck happened?" Stan says when they're leaned up on the bed in Richie's room, Richie shivering in his blanket and sneezing every five seconds.

"I've been fucking sick" Richie responds like it's obvious, gesturing to his box of tissues and fucked up face. His nose was red with blowing it too much, and his eyes were red behind his large lenses as though he were high. And although he was only telling half of the truth, it was the truth nonetheless.

I mean, it's not like he was the one to run out into a fucking snowstorm at 10 pm like a shithead. So why's he paying the price for something a certain shithead should be dealing with instead? Not to point any fingers.

"Well, there's presents from the Losers here-" "Oh fuck yeah!"

Richie opened the first, grinning when the wrapping paper stripped off to reveal a small box of cigarettes. His favourite from the store Bev worked at, though he could never exactly pronounce the name right.

"Do I even need to guess?" Richie chuckled with Stan as he set aside the pack, eyeing the second one as he did so.

"No need, believe me" Stan laughed, watching Richie open the second one. It was squishy, and Stan laughed even harder at Richies confused expression.

He ripped it open, and gasped at what had landed in his hands. It was a little crocheted lamb. Complete with a button nose and even fucking glasses! Huge just like Richies.

"I got a little chicken with curly hair" Stan says in response to Richie's excited energy.

"Mike said he mastered how to crochet during his free time in the library this year" he hums, chuckling at the way Richie examines his lamb in amazement.

"It's so fucking cute!" Richie exclaimed, though he quickly fell into a fit of sneezes right after.

Stan rolled his eyes with a smirk and handed him the last one, a rectangular sort of thing with plaid wrapping paper.

A note slipped out as Richie opened it, and as Richie sniffed aggressively with his stuffy nose, he ripped it open.

From Ben, it read, in his friend's familiar, small scrawl of handwriting. It was a poem. For Richie. And a beautiful one at that.

"He made one for each of us," Stan comments from the side, smirking down at the little paper with it's uniquely perfect writing and detail.

The solid rectangular thing in the rest of the wrapping paper Richie finally turned over, revealing a beautiful wooden frame, and a photo of the Losers all together.

Losers Stick Together, it said in the same handwriting as before, a small heart at the end of the sentence. Richie flipped it over to the back, reading the little note in bright sharpie.

Courtesy of Big Bill and Haystack!!

Richie grinned to himself, letting out a pathetic laugh-sob at the emotions these damn presents had brought out on him. He masked the noise with another blow to his nose with a tissue, afraid Stan had heard. God, he'd had enough of crying this past 24 hours.

"They're really great," Richie says, pretending to get all choked up as he hugs the lamb close to his face, like the idiot he is. "I feel the need to hug you now" he says.

Stan grimaces, "You're sick, but I'll sympathize on Christmas" he says, shrugging and giving Richie the most awkward hug ever given.

Eddie grins at the presents laid out on his desk in front of him. His mom got him some things this morning, things like sweaters and new shorts, a new humidifier (she even did so much as to wrap up a new inhaler for him to find under the tree??), but, as greedy as it sounded, none of them could have ever amounted to the gifts he received from his friends.

In order; a photo of the Losers club at the movies together, a time that Eddie didn't even know there were cameras around, a crocheted bunny, with rosy cheeks and a little fanny pack that Eddie squealed over just yesterday with the other Losers, and then a patch for a jacket that Beverly must have made herself; a perfect and clever design of pills and the medical plus sign meshed together and at the bottom read 'Kaspbrak Miracle Worker'. Eddie had berated Beverly with compliments and questions on how the hell she made something so damn perfect, and thanked her sincerely, though he refused to mention that he didn't exactly have a jacket that would do that sort of thing for him.

And lastly, a poem from Ben. Eddie was surprised to have received something like this. It felt personal, but it only really was personal to Ben and Eddie himself. Because it was a poem about the forests' night sky.

Eddie nearly cried when he read it, because it was in such lovely detail, reminding him of that night almost exactly as it was. Perfect, even despite its imperfections.

Richie casually asks Stan how Eddie is doing, trying hard to pretend nothing from two nights ago happened at all, though his mind still littered with horrible ideas. Stan assures him that he's.. good, and so is the other losers... what does this have to do with your new comic books? C'mon, wanna come over to my house? We've got a shit ton of stuff to do today, and I don't want to be alone.

And so the holidays continue on. Nothing out of the ordinary, other than the fact that every time Richie shows up to the Losers' meets, Eddie is somehow absent, and vice versa. The Losers don't catch on somehow, but eventually they'll have to. Because as Eddie is stuck inside with his mother, watching the times square ball drop on new year's eve, and Richie is with the rest of the gang cheering in Bill's basement, all they can really think about is...

Oh FUCK! ROMEO AND JULIET!

WELL I FORGOT TO PUBLISH A NEW CHAPTER YESTERDAY, which sucks i'm sorry lol, but here's how their christmas went🥺🥺 i'm sorry it's been a while, but i would have rather they have christmas with you guys haha (which also went sideways WHOOPS) anyways MERRY CHRISTMAS! and if you don't celebrate then HAPPY HOLIDAYS! i love you all and hope you had a great day yesterday. - author

edit: check out my conversations tab in my profile for updates HHSKVDGJD i always post on there and sometimes it's important. k bye!