"i walked through, and my eyes swallowed everything, no matter how it cut."
— tracy smith

warning: chapter contains homophobic slurs & potentially triggering sexual assault
love is never easy. so say all of the poets and philosophers of the world. and yet, when you find a love worth fighting for, it seems as if those trials are just an afterthought. a whisper of what you went through. that summer of golden honey eyes.

fuck richie was late. the hallways were barren and not even the faintest peep of another student was heard as the echo of richie's shoes ricochetted off the tiled walls. since the night of her birthday, beverly had stopped meeting richie on the corner of his street every morning on her bike. instead, she met ben, the boy whose heart she held in her hands. bile rose in richie's throat when he thought of them—thought of her. to see that smile upon her face, that was the hardest part of being replaced.

thus, richie lost most of his already dwindling motivation to drag himself to school. however, he had stayed up until the early hours of morning hunched over his desk, thoughts swimming with the vision of a boy with honey skin.

he had stayed up compiling a tape of songs that reminded him coffee cream eyes and rosy lips. songs that reminded him of eddie kaspbrak. the night of beverly's party had ended with the pair sharing a silence that spoke a thousand words on bill denbrough's front steps. the music that played in eddie's ears had come to an end and the letter was clutched in one slightly trembling hand.

no words were shared. eddie just slipped the headphones off his ears, handed the walkman back to richie, and let their shoulders press lightly against one another. that was enough for both of them. the warmth that seeped into his bones from their shared contact made a shiver crawl up richie's spine. in that moment, the warmth of the nicotine running through his veins had dulled in comparison to the high of eddie.

now, richie kept his head down and moved through the halls with purpose, never so much as glancing at the few and far between stragglers that were spread through the halls. only the faint sound of his own name was enough to bring richie's eyes up toward the echo.

eddie was fast walking down the hallway, eyes locked on richie and arms swinging at his sides with purpose. in one hand a comic was tightly clutched, not enough to wrinkle the pages, but enough to let richie know that eddie didn't feel as confident as he looked marching down the hallway.

"richie!" he called, as if the taller boy hadn't already noticed him. the notion was foolish in and of itself, richie could pick eddie out of a crowd with his back turned. the freckled boy descended upon richie, lips parted slightly as he sucked a few rushed breaths from the trek. "i—" he began, words catching in eddie's throat as his sun-warmed eyes trailed up the wide expanse of richie tozier. fuck.

"i brought you this. i've seen you reading volume thirty-two for the last two weeks so either you're shit at reading or you didn't have the next one." he was rambling but richie didn't make it through the rest of eddie's rant, the butterflies in his stomach were too busy trying to flutter up through his throat. eddie held a lightly faded volume thirty-three star wars comic in his hand, sky blue pinky showing stark against the muted colors of the comic. richie wanted to frame this moment in time so he would never forget the light flush snaking up eddie's neck and coloring his cheeks. perfection.

"it's faded, it's been sitting in my bedroom for years. i just figured—" eddie finally took a second to suck in a breath and richie took advantage of his momentary lapse, "cool your jets, eds. i have something for you too." he managed to keep his hands from shaking as he moved to pull the tape out of his backpack, which richie counted as a win.

the tape was labeled with a scribbled 'loser' across the front along with a small folded note taped to the back. the note wasn't heartwarming or full of sentiment, but instead a scrawled "for eddie kaspbrak, from richie tozier" that was hardly legible across the crumpled paper.

eddie took it from him without hesitation, eyebrows creased as he stared down at the tape before looking up and locking his eyes with richie's. his lips were parted, but before the words could leave his lips, richie unhooked the headphones from around his neck and slipped the walkman from his belt loop. instead, he slipped the headphones around eddie's neck, gently, and placed the walkman in the side pocket of the boy's backpack.

"you can use mine." richie hummed, stepping back as he breathed in deeply, unaware he had been holding back the instinct upon being so close to eddie. he took the comic the boy still held in his hand and flipped through it, clearing his throat in preparation for a joke to calm the rapid beating of his heart. the pages were indeed faded and for some reason that sent a bolt of warmth straight to richie's heart.

"y'know eds," he cooed, a small sarcastic smirk taking residence upon his face, "generally, when people buy comic books, they want to read them." richie couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that rose in his chest as he turned the comic to show eddie where some of the pages had faded beyond recognition.

eddie's face burned scarlet and he moved to snatch the comic out of richie's ungrateful hands with a hissed, "that's the last time i try to do something nice for you, tozier, and don't call me that!" fortunately for richie, he was the human embodiment of a tree, and he just held the book above his head and tsked at eddie when he could reach it. he was so immersed in eddie kaspbrak he barely took the time to flinch at his words.

"hey—hey i'm kidding eds," he snickered, clutching the comic to his chest protectively when eddie finally stopped trying to climb him like a jungle gym. "i love it, now i can read this one for the next year," he joked, heart skipping a beat whenever eddie huffed and rolled his eyes, "and the pages that you can't read?" eddie's voice had a strong front but richie could sense the insecurities peeking through, threatening to spill over the edge.

"then we can make that part up. it'll be our story, yeah?"

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

afterward, richie trailed alongside eddie toward his classroom, much to the annoyance of the latter. upon reaching their destination, eddie turned on his heel, mumbled a thank you and slipped inside the classroom, leaving richie with a smile bright enough to combat the sun.

his legs carried him through the endless hallways, not bothering to stop at his classroom. instead, he hummed a tune only he knew, biting his lips with his hands shoved in his pockets. richie's eyes were hazed with the honey glow of eddie kaspbrak.

he flinched when a hand fell roughly upon his shoulder, fingers digging into the clothed skin and yanking him back toward the direction of the boy's bathroom. richie stumbled, trying to catch himself, but was left breathless upon being slammed against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. the fuming figure of one henry bowers loomed over him, causing richie to instinctively shrink in on himself.

"who the fuck do you think you are, tozier?" he hissed, spit flying and landing like daggers against richie's skin, "you're one of us. why the fuck were you talking to that fairy?" his words dug deep into richie, so many thoughts of—he's really not so bad henry. you'd like him if you got to know him. he makes me feel something.

but richie couldn't say those things. no—no not to henry. instead, apologies burned his throat and spewed forth. "i'm sorry hen—i'm sorry i was just—" his words fell flat, unarticulated and unauthentic and henry's glare narrowed as if he could see straight through richie's stumbling lies. perhaps he could.

maybe that's why henry gripped the front of richie's shirt and pushed him back so far into the tiles he cried out. maybe that's why he let a hand fall to the exposed skin of richie's side, where his shirt was hiked up from henry's grip on it. maybe that's why—in an instant—henry's lips descended upon his in a frenzy, claiming.

a/n this is where the assault/realization occurs. please, if this is triggering to you, skip until it is explicitly indicated.

at first it was as if richie was simply floating by in a dream, out of his body and watching from afar, senses dulled. then, he fell back to earth, chest tightening and a million thoughts racing through his mind at once. rough lips pressed down on his and wandering hands making his skin itch.

one, two, three..

"hen—" the words fell from richie's lips in choked gasps, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel the breath leaving his lungs and ceasing to return, "—please." henry's hands kept moving, as if he couldn't hear the desperate cries of the boy writing beneath him, moving his lips down to claim the skin of richie's neck.

a/n this is the end of the depicted assault. though this description is not lengthy, it is still valid. please, respect others' decision to skip through.

four, five, six..

suddenly, the scene fell away and everything was engulfed in white. richie no longer felt the treacherous hands of 'love' grasping for further purchase on his skin. instead, he felt the cool embrace of gentle hands and caramel skin. the oddly comforting scent of disinfectant filled his nose and the constellation freckles speckled across eddie's scrunched face. his eyelashes brushed the artwork covering his cheekbones and richie's lips parted in awe.

a heavenly glow surrounded eddie, when he smiled the angels sung. he didn't speak, but all richie needed was the crinkles on the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the sun-kissed tousle of his hair and he was set ablaze. eddie kaspbrak was a living masterpiece. richie oh so longed to brush his fingertips across those painted perfections.

eventually, the curtain had to fall and when richie blinked, he was met with the sight of a dully lit bathroom wall across from him. he was alone. all alone and cold and dirty and all he wanted to do was stand up to try scrub away the filth he felt from the inside but everything hurt too much to even do that. so richie sat, legs pulled up protectively to his chest—clothes disheveled and body bruised—as warm tears pooled in his eyes and blurred his vision until all he could see was his own warped reality.

richie's body shook and ached with his sobs. the barren walls echoed his cries and he fell further into himself. yet, even as his body burned all he could think about was how much he loved henry—and how much henry loved him. richie knew henry didn't mean to he just—he loved him so much and sometimes things like this would happen. he understood.

seven, eight, nine..

"richie!"

the call of his name sounded so far away, but when he looked up, he saw the familiar face of beverly crowding his vision. her eyebrows were pulled together in a furrow of concern and her lips were pursed in silent anxiousness. the red-head crouched in front of him, hands lingering by her sides as if she was afraid to reach out to him. a sharp lance of pain struck through his body as he moved to better look at her, a wince betraying the humiliation that caused his cheeks to burn scarlet.

"hey, bevvy."

richie's voice sounded small. it was croaky and gravelly and contained none of his usual humor and beverly's heart instantly plummeted down into her stomach. she finally reached for him, hands gently finding the sides of his face and brushing against the slow forming bruises spread across his milky skin.

he flinched, the feel of a foreign touch assaulting his senses with memories he already wished to push away. however, he didn't move her hands away, beverly needed this. beverly needed to be needed.

she brushed the slowly drying blood from his busted lip, wiping the crimson on her shorts in an uncharacteristic disregard for her clothes. "what happened to you, rich?" she asked, but it felt more desperate and deep than he figured it was on the surface. all richie could do was shrug—painfully—and attempt to give her a lopsided grin.

"nothing i didn't deserve."

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

beverly ended up ditching the rest of school and dragging richie toward her house, since she knew her father would be away at work for the remainder of the day. the task was simple enough, but the execution was all the more difficult. richie wasn't normally a light and nimble person, but upon becoming a walking, gaping wound, he became much more of a challenge to escort. beverly never once complained about the extra ten minutes it took to help richie limp toward her house, nor would she. beverly marsh understood the hazy gleam that overtook richie's eyes and the faraway mentality that encapsulated him. yes, she understood that better than anyone.

eventually she managed to move him to sit down in the bathtub, taking her time to gently remove his outer articles of clothing, save the boxers that hung loosely on hips. all the while whispering to him softly, asking if he was alright, if he wanted her to stop, that she loved him. he didn't respond, but that was okay. she understood.

beverly wet a rag with warm water and tenderly scrubbed the whole of richie's body, cleaning off every speck of dried blood and him that she could. ever so carefully, she moved her way up the inside of richie's thighs, keeping her eyes on him and watching for any signs of discomfort as she washed away the physical traces of what henry left of him.

after she had finished and was rinsing the rag, she felt richie's trembling fingers lightly grip her hand and she looked toward him, only to find his morning sky eyes gleaming with unshed tears. her heart cracked and her bottom lip trembled, but she laced their fingers together anyway.

"bev—" he stumbled, words quietly and barely coherent, but she heard them, she always heard him, "—it hurts, bev." his voice broke at the end and a sob wracked richie's body, tears falling freely down his face and landing with a soft plop against the floor of the bathtub. beverly, who already had moved to sit in the tub across from him, let out her own fit of sobs, biting her lip in a vain attempt to keep herself composed.

the attempt was futile and instead beverly moved forward, wrapping her arms around her best friend and pulling him close against her chest. she ran her fingers through his hair with one hand and brushed soothing patterns against his back with the other, all while mumbling comforting words into his ear. "i know, sweetheart. i know, it hurts. i love you. i love you so fucking much, rich." her words were garbled by the tears, but richie heard them. richie heard them and he cried harder, because what had he done to deserve the love of a girl like beverly marsh?

the pair stayed like that for hours, wrapped up in one another and crying loudly—then silently.

until beverly broke the silence, richie was listening to the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat. "when i see him," she began, tongue darting out to wet her lips, the taste of salty tears prevalent, "i'm going to kill him, richie." her words were quiet but the emotion behind them was unabashed. "he's never going to come near you again, you hear me? ever." her voice held a certainty that richie was unused to hearing and it made him shiver.

"i love him, bev."

he couldn't help it. henry was his port in the storm, his protector, and his closest confidant. he was also his abuser, his darkest secret, and his achilles heel. he saw the concern in beverly's eyes as she held him, the parting of her lips as if she wished to shake him from his reverie.

"i love him too rich, but that doesn't mean they can hurt us. we deserve more."

then the silence overtook them and if richie clutched beverly a little tighter after that, it was nobody's business but their own.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

later that night, hidden in the shadows of beverly's closet, as to not alert her father of his presence, richie held a small flashlight in one hand and his tattered comic book with the other. his bright scanned the faded pages with a bleary gaze. his fingertips brushed the pages delicately, as if the book would tear with just the slightest touch. the pages made his mind echo with thoughts of eddie—impassioned and kind.

those thoughts are the ones that lulled richie to sleep, drawing him deeper into unconsciousness. his vision swam with thoughts of eddie's amber eyes—playful and wide. i want you to want me hummed softly in their ears and richie clasped eddie's hands in his own, their soft swaying in sync to the gentle music in the background. eddie's skin was warm against richie's hands and he felt lighter than he ever had before. the soft echo of his own name fell upon his ears like a song, drifting gently around them as it echoed.

"richie.. richie.. richie.."