Let's do this! I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever! Enjoy my new idea (I swear I need to stop starting new projects)

I finally saw IT part 2 and damn. Damn. So good. I might've cried (but that's not anyone else's business oop)

Disclaimer: I don't own IT.

3rd Person P.O.V.


That's what Richie wanted to carve into the wood. He wanted to so bad, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was risky, he knew. But the words that were said to him, the words that came out of the mouth of that fucking clown, were important. To him, anyway. Richie listened to those words on repeat.

I know your dirty little secret

I know your dirty little secret

I know your dirty little secret

He shivered, despite the warm summer air. Yes, Richie did have a "dirty little secret," but didn't everyone? He contemplated this for a moment. Everyone was hiding something. His something just happened to be, well, shocking, at least he thought so. Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier, with his coke bottle glasses and witty remarks, seemed like everyone else in the small town of Derry. And yet, there was something that set him apart, a small difference that was blown away out of proportion in the conservative town.

So Richie kept his secret locked up inside his heart.

And locked up it had stayed, until he met Edward Kaspbrack.

Eddie was a small kid, about a head shorter than Richie, with brown hair and chocolate eyes. Looking into those eyes made Richie's heart melt, the toughened exterior that had kept his secret safe losing its steel coating. Every time he looked at Eddie- his freckles spattered across his cheeks, his cocoa eyes that made Richie's heart feel like marshmallows- he felt nothing but love for the boy.

Eddie was cute, like a baby bunny nibbling on a carrot. Eddie was exciting, like the first drop on a rollercoaster. Eddie was beautiful, more so than anyone else in the entire world. Eddie was perfect, with his nervous mumbling and disgusted tone, with his germaphobe tendencies, with his inability to take a joke. Richie thought Eddie was perfect.

But Eddie? There was no way he would feel the same. Eddie was not like that. Even if he was, which Richie highly doubted, why would he ever fall for someone like him? Richie was annoying and selfish and ugly. Eddie was perfect. Richie sighed sadly. Eddie would be better off with someone, anyone, else. Not Richie.

He put down the knife with a quiet sob. He couldn't do it. He wanted to carve in his initials with Eddie's, as if it would prove something to the world. Richie Tozier was not afraid.

But he couldn't bring himself to finish. He stepped back, shoving the blade back in his pocket with a sigh. Richie stared at the unfinished carving, the one he had imagined in his mind for months now. But all it said was:

R +

An unfinished piece. Something he would have to leave incomplete, unless by some twist of fate his dream did come true...

Richie shook his head. No. Eddie would never love him. He was undesirable. Eddie barely liked him as a friend. Richie knew better than to mess up what he had.

Eddie locked the door. He sat over the toilet, dry heaving like mad. He had been place to face with a leper, a walking infection, mere minutes ago. And it spooked him. He finished dry heaving, collapsing backwards and hitting the wall rather roughly. He squeezed his eyes shut, hyperventilating. He could still see it in his mind, and Eddie was terrified. He didn't know what had just happened.

He felt his lungs contract sharply with each struggling breath he took. He fumbled with the zipper on his fanny pack, grabbing his inhaler and forcing the foul-tasting medicine down his throat. Eddie's lungs relaxed, the medicine taking effect. He sighed. He was weak. He was so very weak. Eddie hated himself, every fat roll and pudgy arm, every medication he needed, every time he was made fun of.

And then there was Richie.

Richie was the worst of them all, his constant jokes about Eddie's mother hurt. And yet, Eddie had always liked Richie the most.

Sure, the other losers were nicer, but Richie had this kind of flair to him that made Eddie's stomach do cartwheels. But Richie was Richie, and Eddie was Eddie. And Richie and Eddie weren't like that.

Eddie lay on the bathroom floor, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Eddie wasn't... no, he couldn't be. He knew how people in Derry treated people like that. He knew how people everywhere treated people like that. Eddie was bullied enough already. It's not like Richie would ever feel the same way. So he suppressed the feeling, keeping it deep down where no one would see.

It had been about a week since Eddie's encounter with the leper. He hasn't told any of the losers yet, because the whole situation was just... embarrassing. And Eddie honestly didn't want to talk about it with anyone. Well... maybe he would tell Richie. But maybe that wasn't smart. The trashmouth would probably tell the others, which would make them all wonder why Eddie had told Richie and not the rest of them. It made Eddie wonder, too. Why did he feel such a connection to the trashmouth?

Eddie ran down the street, checking his watch from time to time. 6:59. His lungs were tight, making him wheeze as he ran. But Eddie was a good runner. He was fast. But not fast enough, it seemed. His watched beeped loudly, signaling to the small boy that he was in deep trouble. He wasn't close enough to his house to make it before 7:01, so he slowed to a walking pace. He grabbed his inhaler, shooting the medicine down his throat. He walked the rest of the way home, fidgeting nervously as he got closer to his house. He opened the door, trying his best to be quiet.

"Eddie bear? Is that you?" Sonia Kaspbrak called sweetly. Eddie froze midstep. "Come in the kitchen for a minute." Eddie poked around the corner, keeping his gaze down. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" Eddie shook his head, eyes still trained on the floor. Sonia grabbed his chin forcefully, making Eddie match her gaze. "Answer me, boy!"

"N-no," Eddie stuttered.

"Is that any way to address your mother?" Sonia asked, appalled.

"No, mommy." Eddie grimaced. Sonia smiled with satisfaction.

"Much better, Eddie bear." Her voice was dripping with false sweetness. Eddie didn't want to fall for it, but years of his mother training him how to behave had muddled his sense of judgement. "But I have to punish you. How else will you learn not to disobey me?"

"B-but mommy, I was only two minutes past cur-" Eddie was cut off by a hard slap to his cheek. He cried out, stumbling back and covering his already bruising cheek.

"Don't you sass me! You should be grateful that I'm only giving you a small punishment!" She screamed with rage. Eddie cowered in the shadow of his mother. She grabbed him by the collar, choking him as he was dragged down the hall to his bedroom. She grabbed the belt, the one she always used on Eddie, wrapping it around her wrist. Eddie was paralyzed with fear, still sitting where Sonia had left him.

"Get up, boy!" She yelled. Her voice changed suddenly, a sickly sweet smile crossing her face. "You know I have to punish you. How else will you learn not to disobey me?"

"Y-yes mother, I kn-know." Eddie shook with fright.

"Good boy. Now, lay on the bed." Eddie obeyed, bracing for the impending punishment. He felt as his mother pulled his shirt off, the friction making Eddie's skin burn. He cried out as the first hit was placed, a red welt contrasting against his pale skin. Another hit, and another. Eddie was sobbing, screaming out with every whip of the belt.

"I'm feeling generous today. You're done for now." Sonia had a murderous look in her eyes, and Eddie kept his face buried in the bed. "Don't you ever disobey me again, you hear?"

"Y-yes mommy," Eddie whimpered.

"Good boy, Eddie bear. But no dinner for you tonight." Sonia left the room, leaving Eddie to tend to his wounds. The only problem was that he couldn't reach them. Tears streamed down his face carelessly, the pain radiating off his back. He put his shirt back on, giving a soft cry as the rough material brushed his wounds. There was no way Eddie could stay in that house tonight.

He gathered some supplies, mostly stuff for his injuries, yelping softly each time pain went shooting through his system. Eddie's eyes were brimmed with tears, with every large movement some of the salty liquid came spilling out, dripping down his cheeks. When he had enough stuff, a small backpack full, Eddie opened the window.

The wind howled, the trees whipped around wildly. A storm was coming, and a big one at that. Eddie's window, although on the first floor of the house, was rather high off the ground. He climbed out, sitting on the windowsill, bracing himself for the jump. He let go of the ledge, simultaneously pushing off the wall with his feet. He landed roughly on his feet, making his legs groan with the sudden pressure.

Eddie ran, teetering dangerously in the wicked wind. The first few drops of rain fell from the sky, quickly becoming a downpour. He knew exactly where he wanted to go: the clubhouse.

The clubhouse had never been a personal favorite of Eddie's, the unstable beams and rickety material making it a huge safety hazard. But Eddie needed a roof over his head, and he knew he was always welcome there. As long as he wasn't spotted by the police, of course, or some nosy neighbor who felt like enforcing the curfew on the boy.

Eddie started running fast, his feet splashing in the puddles that started to accumulate on the streets. The wind screamed, cackling madness that frightened the small boy. He was completely soaked, his shoes full of squishy water. But he kept running.

Eddie ran, he ran until he reached the clubhouse trapdoor. He climbed down the ladder, immediately reaching into his backpack and spraying his inhaler into his mouth. He caught his breath, much to Eddie's relief. He sighed, wishing he had brought a change of clothes. He was soaked down to the bone, shivering violently. Eddie started pulling off his clothes, knowing that leaving them on would make his chill worsen.

Richie watched with mild surprise as Eddie began taking his shirt off. He hadn't said anything up to this point, but Eddie had began to reach for his pants zipper.

"Eds?" He questioned softly, in fear of startling the boy. Eddie jumped, fumbling with his shirt to hold it up in front of his bare chest. Richie chuckled as the smaller boy's cheeks flushed a dark pink, his eyes wide with embarrassment.

"R-Richie! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Edwardo," Richie responded, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Eddie frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. He turned his head slightly, and Richie noticed the greenish bruise forming on his cheek. He stood up immediately, making his way to Eddie's side. Richie gently grabbed Eddie's head, inspecting the mark.

"Hey! Richie, stop!" He complained, swatting the hand away. Richie's expression was sad, knowing why Eddie had come to the clubhouse 40 minutes past curfew.

"She hit you, didn't she?" Richie's voice was heavy with pain, pain in his heart. Eddie didn't deserve to be treated like this. The smaller boy turned away, hanging his head to hide the tears slipping out of his eyes. Richie decided to take a chance. He placed a finger on Eddie's chin, tilting his head to face Richie.

Eddie was a mess, the dried tears on his cheeks being replaced with fresh ones, his red eyes, his quivering lips. Richie wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging him tightly. He wasn't ready for the sudden cry of pain that came out of Eddie's mouth.

"Eds? Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Richie's fear was growing steadily. Eddie didn't respond, instead crying harder, dropping down to his knees. That's when Richie saw it. Dozens of red welts, covering Eddie's back. Some were bleeding, some were deeply inflamed. Richie gasped, his brain filling with concern for Eddie, and red-hot anger for the person who did this to

"Sh-she-" Eddie cut himself off with a pained sob.

He dug into Eddie's backpack, searching for something to help make the pain better. Producing an anti-inflammatory cream and some bandages, he got to work.

Richie opened the small tub, dipping his fingers into the smooth cream. He spread it over a couple of the welts, hearing Eddie's soft gasp at the cold touch. He didn't flinch away, though, so Richie kept going. He spread the cream all over Eddie's back, whispering words of encouragement as he smoothed it over.

Eddie was much more relaxed now, the special cream cooling the red-hot fire on his back. And Richie, Richie was being so patient and gentle with him that his anxieties melted away. He didn't feel the need to critique Richie's wrapping skills as the thick bandage was applied. The feeling of Richie's warm hands on his back and chest as he wrapped the bandage was enough to keep him calm.

Richie could feel hot desire in his cheeks. He had never felt like that with anyone before, but there was something about Eddie that made his heart flip-flop. He had bandaged up the smaller boy, and decided, against his better judgement, that it would be better if they were closer. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, the sensation of his arms on Eddie's bare chest getting both boys excited. Eddie leaned into the warm embrace, no longer shivering.

"Richie..." Eddie whispered breathlessly. The smaller boy leaned into Richie, his hot skin warming Eddie up.

"Yeah, Eds?"

"This is really nice," Eddie sighed contently, relaxing fully into Richie's arms. He was exhausted. The asthmatic boy fell asleep rather quickly, Richie's hands in his hair. He smiled at the sleeping boy in his arms, choosing to keep an eye on him while he slept. Richie didn't really need the sleep anyway. Watching over Eddie was much more rewarding.

that's a shit ton of writing for one chapter but ok

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