XIV

Show Me How | Men I Trust

Eddie hadn't shown up to school for the following two days. He remained absent for tech rehearsals too, and his sudden disappearance sparked conversation at the lunch table every day since then.

"I went to his house yesterday, and Mrs. Kaspbrak wouldn't let me see him," Ben said, shrugging with a frown. "She went on about maybe someone being a bad influence? Some Todd guy, I- I really don't remember."

Stan sighed deeply, "Well, at least we know he's not dead." Beverly flicked a candy wrapper to his head.

Richie stayed dreadfully silent, just as he had been doing any time they bring up Eddie at all recently. I mean, what was he supposed to say? My bad, guys, I accidentally fell in love with Eddie then argued with him till that eventually, accidentally lead to his death date with Bowers. Oopsie.

He should have run after him. Sure, Richie was mad, but he should have saved him. Just like Eddie did for him.

Richie has managed to stay out of Bowers' radar these two days somehow, which is extremely lucky, considering he had just caught Eddie and him on a moment worth beating the shit out of him for.

"God, it's fucking pouring out! You think the electricity will be fine for the stage tonight?" Stan asks worriedly. Everyone automatically turns for a quick glance toward the cafeteria doors in unison, which indeed displayed the school front being actively drenched as students rush around under sweaters and with books over their heads.

And that's when it hits him, for the second time in the past 57 hours. The performance is soon. No, the performance is today.

___

"Hey Rich, what do you think of-... Richie? Richie!"

Richie jolts in his seat, startled by the sound of Stan's voice. He's glaring at him in annoyance, and his hands are splayed out on the desk as though to describe something to Richie.

"I cannot have you dozing off the day of performance, Tozier! Now fucking tell me, what do you think of the plaid shirt from when we went to that wedding once? Or maybe I should just wear the green one Beverly made me last year."

It's 8th period, and Stan and him are meant to be working on a project together. Their desks are back to back, both boys facing each other, and the project supplies and papers are tossed to one side as Stan speaks. The most Richie can tell from what Stan had been saying was that it was definitely not about the project whatsoever.

"I- I don't know! Why do you need to get dressed up for this anyway?"

"Are you kidding? My parents are coming! Don't think they'll miss it just because I'm not in it. They love you for some reason" he shrugs, and Richie grins stupidly.

"Aw, the whole Urine family in love with me? I'm not surprised" he winked, and Stan leaned in to smack him upside the head.

"You wish, now please, we need to finish this stupid project before I get an F and you flunk out of the 11th grade" he slid the project supplies back to the center, and Richie sighed, slumping further into his chair.

Stan raised an eyebrow at the subtle action. "What's up with you?" he asks genuinely, nudging at Richie's foot under the table and watching as Richie awkwardly perks up and scrambles through the project papers to start on something.

"What ever could you mean, Stanlard?" Richie asks in one of his stupid voices, one that Stan rolls his eyes at. "I think the essay could use major editing, by the way, considering you wrote it-"

"Your deflecting doesn't work on me, idiot, tell me what you're thinking!" Stan presses on, leaning closer onto his desk.

He pauses, waits for a response, and sighs when none comes. Richie ignores his stubborn nagging and begins scribbling quick notes for the project on one of the loose papers in front of him.

"Is it about what happened Monday?" Stan says, and Richie freezes. His throat goes dry, and for a second, as he drops the pencil abruptly, he can't get a single word out. His breath puffs out like a laugh, and panic settles in like a wave.

Then, his voice returns with a croaky, squeaking "What?"

"What are you talking about? Nothing happened Monday. Why? Did you see anything? Did anyone tell you anything?" he says, his tone growing quiet and frantic.

Stan scoffs. "No, but you skipped this class that day, and -don't murder me for connecting the dots- but Eddie hasn't come back since either" he says, shrugging as he rests back on his chair, obviously proud of his detective skills.

Richie sighs, his posture slumping and his face contorting into a scowl of sorts. "Sometimes I can't fucking stand you" he says in the moment, and Stan simply chuckles at that statement.

"Do the others know?" Richie asks, slightly hopeful, despite the circumstances.

Stan clicks his tongue, "No, they're not as advanced in simple context clues as I am" he says, jokingly boasting as Richie rolls his eyes, half a smirk playing on his lips.

Richie hesitates for a moment. God, what is Stan thinking? Is he thinking what Richie thinks he's thinking? Based on his nonchalant manner, either he simply doesn't know what the hell is going on between him and Eddie, or he figured it out and frankly doesn't give a fuck. Sounds Stan-like, no doubt about that, but Richie is trained to think the worst of every situation five steps ahead. He considers what the end of an 8-year friendship would look like, and immediately cowers at the thought.

"To answer your question, no, I'm not thinking about Monday" Richie lies through his teeth, eyeing Stan with an exasperated glare. He supposes the 8-year friendship thing could possibly be a factor as to why Stan can read him so well all the time. That fact annoys him and warms his heart in a frustrating swirl of emotions, he wants to laugh hysterically. So much is happening, oh god. Too much for him to handle on fucking performance week.

What's he gonna do with all this stupid emotion? It's all here, in him. The confusion, sadness, fear, frustration, anxiety, how will he overcome a hurdle this high? It seems impossible with all these expectations hanging around him.

It's going to drive him to insanity eventually, but all Richie hopes is that the breakdown part of this crisis can hold off till the end of the week. It's the least the universe could do for him after all.

"Richie?" Stan said, for what Richie didn't realize was the third time by now, and Richie once again shook out of his daze.

"You're starting to worry me, and I don't like being worried" Stan said bluntly, and Richie scoffed.

"I'm just thinking!" Richie says, raising his hands in defence. Stan tilts his head, eyeing him with a doubtful expression.

After a second, he breathes out a sigh and slumps out of his serious posture. "Fine, but whatever's going on in that tiny brain of yours, it better be about the show" Stan says, his finger tapping against the wood of the desk demandingly. Richie nods.

Stan had always been oddly invested in performances, ever since Richie had joined in 6th grade, and even more when Beverly stuck herself into the equation in freshman year as well. Richie always teased him with the fact that he acted like a 'theatre mom' to him and Beverly when a show came around. (Similar equivalent to the 'soccer mom' title). He'd always nag at Richie about remembering lines, or praise Beverly for her amazing designs (most of the positive affirmations went to Beverly, no surprise there).

But at the end of the day, Stan is the most supportive friend to the two of them. Richie thinks about that deeply, a flourishing tinge of hope growing in his chest at the thought. Stan would understand, wouldn't he? If Richie were to tell him about... himself. He wouldn't hate him for it. He couldn't.

The bell rings, and Richie watches Stan wink encouragingly before saying goodbye. It doesn't make his stomach flutter like it used to, but this time Richie knows why. And the reason why hasn't shown up to school in two days.

____

"Hey Richie, you excited about the performance?" Jason queries giddily, sitting backwards on a chair, straight across from Richie (something the director has had to remind them repeatedly that they shouldn't do to auditorium chairs).

"Do you have to ask me that every second?" Richie groans, rubbing his palms over his face.

The whole cast was currently in the dark auditorium, scattered as per usual after the director's first big speech of the night. Richie knew there'd be a lot of those today, and the rest of the performances this week, so the emotional pep talks were casual to him at this point. But still, of course, the ones right before he'd leap onstage... they never failed to make his skin break out into goosebumps and his adrenaline run quick through his body.

Some of the crew joined them as well in the auditorium this afternoon, but sadly Beverly was still in the props and costume room, getting things prepared for the big night.

Stan was probably off somewhere around here with the lights people, even though he shouldn't be. Because no matter the circumstance, even if he hadn't signed up to volunteer in the first place, he always manages to nudge his way in with no questions asked. Considering he's experienced in one way or another, and everyone trusts him to carry things out accordingly, he's always around for these kinds of things.

"Jeez, sorry man" Jason says defensively, slightly taken aback by Richie's suddenly snarky attitude. Although nobody can blame him. Richie tends to get like this before shows, but just not extremely like... this.

And it's different than other times, because Eddie still isn't here. No only that, but Jason hasn't come up either. They are so fucking fucked if neither of them show. And it will literally be all Richie's fault if this goes south. Aside from Jason's responsibility to be here on time, because let's be honest, he's always got some reason to be sick at the worst times.

They've got an hour or two till showtime, at least they got that going for them. But it still shakes Richie to the core. Is Eddie okay?? Or what?! Did he kill him? Okay maybe not that, but he did something, and that's why Eddie hasn't shown up, right?

Just as that thought crosses his mind for the hundredth time, the double doors burst open, and THANK FUCK! There he is, in the flesh.

Eddie stands as a golden silhouette in the bright light that pours into the dark auditorium from the double doors, an angel having come down to the rescue.

The entire cast, though scattered throughout the auditorium, had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of our Romeo. Jared, specifically. So when all heads shot over to the blinding light ahead, collective sighs of relief washed over the room.

Richie, though he wasn't sure why, rose from his seat immediately at the sight of Eddie there. He looked fine, seemed fine all in all, and Richie couldn't help but feel the weight lift off his shoulders, knowing he's okay.

But what surprised him most was that when Richie lifted his hand to wave, a small polite gesture to the petite boy, Eddie gave a small smile back in return.

Why it surprised him? No idea. Maybe it shouldn't, but at this point Richie couldn't care less about why they may not be ignoring each other anymore. As long as they're on somewhat good terms.

"Where's Jared!" someone from the far back of the auditorium shouted.

Eddie didn't respond, simply gazed back at the crowd before him curiously.

There was silence for a second, awkwardness, when suddenly the door behind Eddie burst open a second time and THANK FUCK! (#2) there was Jared.

The cast immediately burst into a cheering fit, crowding over to Jared exaggeratedly and nagging him with questions and words of relief.

Eddie was quickly pushed out of the way as cast mates and crew surged to the front doors. Richie watched how he rolled his eyes and settled his backpack on a seat nearby.

Richie remembers yesterday morning, how he nervously placed Eddie's backpack on the Kaspbrak doorstep, unsure, and ended up anonymously ringing the doorbell before making a run for it. He he honestly wouldn't last another second as Todd in front of Eddie's mom.

Now, as Eddie pulls out his perfectly color-coded script from his backpack and rearranges a few post-its, Richie admires him from afar. He wonders if it'd be weird for them to act normal all over again. As much as he meant what he said on Monday, Richie could bend the rules a bit, considering it's Eddie.

Without thinking, and with a jump of hope in his step, Richie hops over to where Eddie is seated and snatches one of the journals from his lap. He leans his frame on the chair beside him, not yet pulling it down to sit, but pushing it in the opposite way with his weight (which the director always warns not to do).

"So, you're not even going on stage, and you've got a whole encyclopedia of notes" Richie clicks his tongue, flipping through pages and pages of blocking and lines.

Eddie's smile is already there when Richie turns to give him a questioning look. "Fuck you, it's called being prepared"

"I'll say. Rocket science is maybe what you're making it" Richie jokes, plucking a bright blue post-it and examining closely, seeing a jumble of phrases he barely understands.

"The fuck does this mean?" Richie stares at the piece of paper in confusion, turning it to Eddie for him to see.

Eddie scoffs, "You taught me that, idiot" he says, snatching back the post-it and sticking it back to the journal. "It's a tongue twister."

Richie halts, processing this information. Oh. "Well then," he says blankly.

Eddie snickers with a slight shake of his head, and gets back to looking over something in his script.

Richie represses a heavy sigh of relief in front of him. Thank god they're back to normal. It's not exactly what Richie had in mind at first, but as of this morning, is what he'd hoped to happen. It's better than not having Eddie at all.

(Yes, obviously that goes against everything Richie told Eddie on Monday, but Richie is a stubborn, indecisive person. A stubborn, indecisive person who says the wrong type of truth at all the wrong times. He meant what he said, but he can't possibly mean it anymore. If he can't have Eddie the way he wants to, he can settle for less. He has to. Can't imagine a life without him otherwise.)

"20 minutes till I want you guys dressed!" the director announces loudly from the stage, before quickly scurrying by in a rush.

A mantra of "Got it"s and "Thank you, 20"s rang throughout the auditorium, and things started moving again, (rather than everyone continuing to smother Jared). That shook a nerve in Richie's body. Oh god. It's happening.

"Hey, Eddie!" the two of them heard, quickly whipping their heads around to be met with none other than Myra.

Richie grimaced, and turned to face forward again instead as she approached them.

"Oh, hey Myra" Eddie smiled politely as she sat in the chair a row behind him, leaning forward so her arms crossed over the seat next to Eddie's.

"I was worried you wouldn't show," she said, leaning her head into her palm. "Guess you got out of it this time, huh? Jared tends to give a scare every now and then" she laughs, and Eddie forces a surprisingly persuasive chuckle in response.

Richie only knows it's fake because he knows what Eddie's real laugh sounds like, courtesy of his own amazing humor (not to brag). And wow, Richie is starting to consider his teaching skills after all. Eddie has turned out a fine actor, at great one at that, and Richie can hardly believe he helped with that.

Richie was about to walk away, already having had enough of Myra's shit, when Eddie swiftly takes hold of his wrist before he can get away.

"Wait!" Eddie yelps, and for a second Richie internally panics at the warm feel of Eddie's hand on him, but then looks around confusedly.

"Uhm, what do ya need, Eds?" Richie shrugs curiously.

Eddie quickly retracts his hand, a hint of embarrassment clear on his face with the way his cheeks flush slightly in the darkness of the auditorium.

"Oh nothing, I just- well, you know... I wanted to know how you're doing!" Eddie says, clutching his books tight on his thighs. "Because, well, you know how you get before a performance" Eddie chuckles lightly, shrugging.

Richie perks up immediately, "Huh? Whaddya mean, Eds? I don't get like anything before anything, what are you talking about? Ha! That's funny!" Richie babbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Richie, with the sheer talent of his eyes, and the luckily strong communication between him and Eddie, signals to "Cut the shit! Myra, 12:00!"

Eddie, after a bewildered second of watching Richie blink and gape sporadically, gets the message and laughs. It sounds much more genuine this time.

"Hah! Yeah, I'm kidding. You wanna go over your lines a bit? That side of the auditorium is free, I think" Eddie says casually, and Richie wants to kiss him, what the fuck.

(Fuck, nope. Bad idea. Stop that. Not gonna happen.)

So Eddie, his fucking saviour, hums out a stupid tune and scoots out of the seat, happily waving Myra goodbye and pulling Richie by the wrist with him. Richie follows closely behind like a puppy in awe. What the hell has he created? A compulsive liar? An even scarier version of Eddie? Whatever it is, Richie can't deny he's loving it.

When they get far enough so that Myra's suspicious glare is a blur from sight, Richie sighs in relief.

"I'm going to be absolutely honest with you, Eds, I cannot stand her" he huffs, leaning on the wall they've reached.

Eddie snorts, leaning beside him. "I never would've guessed."

"You knew?!" Richie gasps dramatically, a hand flying up to his chest. "Oh, you asshole! You're sick, you know that" he groans, smacking a hand on his forehead.

Of course Eddie would know something like that. As much of a great actor Richie is, he really is horrible at hiding his passionate hatred for Myra. (Cut to every time Richie has gritted his teeth with a smile when he looks her way, or has passive aggressively said something nice [definitely not nice] to fuck with her.)

"Well, aside from whatever stupid shit you've grudged her on, she's not a horrible person" Eddie shrugs innocently, idly picking at the pages of the journal in his grasp. "When I'd sit with her and the girls in class, she was... nice to me" he explained as though it might as well have been the most surprising thing he's said. "Like, actually nice to me."

Richie purses his lips, caught in conflict. Myra? Nice?? Sorry, but try again another time. Another reality, more like it. I don't know about this.

"But- Eddie, have you ever considered that she might be doing all that just to get back at me?" Richie persisted, almost as though he were whining. He couldn't have Eddie getting the wrong message from her.

Eddie scoffs in offence, turning his body to fully face Richie now. "Are you fucking kidding? Well, asshole, have you ever considered that maybe I could have other friends that aren't yours, and that the entire world does not revolve around you?" he huffs, shaking his head.

Richie pauses, a guilty expression clear on his face as he's stuck deep in thought. Oh fuck. He's mad. Okay okay, maybe I misjudged... for the past three years. Maybe Myra isn't all that bad.

"Uhh no, hold on a sec" he jokes, which is the worst thing to do right now but.. it's Richie. He spins around on his heel, counting two seconds before spinning again to be met with Eddie's stubborn frown.

"Okay yes, I'm sorry Eds, maybe she's not a terrifying... vicious.. girl-beast. You're right, she might be nice! ...To anyone but me" he shrugs thoughtfully, then quickly waves it off.

"I'm an asshole" he points out in agreement. "Are you mad at me?" he asks, eyes wide and apologetic, like a child to his mother when they've broken a glass.

Eddie rolls his eyes with another huff. "No, we don't have time for that" he says, eyes straying away from Richie. Then he points to the stage, where people are trickling into the wings to backstage rowdily.

"Okay, fuck, you are right. I should get going then" Richie nods, eyes glued worriedly on the stage, currently being prepared for Act I. He hadn't noticed how fast his heartbeat was getting, his palms were sweating, that he was rocking subconsciously on the heels of his shoes until Eddie placed a hand on his. "Hey."

Eddie must have some secret powers within him, because the second Richie feels his warm palm wrap around Richie's clenched fist, everything bad just stops and he's okay again. The fog clears and Eddie is giving him a worried look up and down.

"Richie, you'll be fine" Eddie assures, fixing their hand position so their fingers are intertwining. Richie assumes maybe Eddie thinks it's disgusting how he's holding Richie's sweaty hand in his own, but in fact, Eddie barely seems to mind as he gives a loving squeeze and one last encouraging grin before letting him go.

Richie stumbles through the auditorium awkwardly and hops onto the stage with minimal grace. "Go kick some ass, or else!" Eddie shouts as Richie disappears into the wings.

Fast forward an hour or so later; Richie is backstage in his Mercutio outfit, fiddling nervously with the fake sword tied to his belt. He can hear them introducing the show, and the audience's cheer of excitement. Richie is far from excited, very very far.

The lingering warmth of a hand on his is enough to allow him a deep breath, though,  and he forces himself to calm the fuck down. For Eddie, y'know?

The play had begun as fast as it ended, and, well... Richie more or less kicked fucking ass.

"Hell yeah!" Beverly shouted at a hardly audible whisper when Richie returned backstage after his death scene. They high fived quietly, and suddenly, Richie felt good about his odds with the or else of Eddie's threat. He's probably in the audience, in fact, reciting Romeo's lines under his breath and on the edge of his seat, despite knowing the entirety of the plot.

The audience laughed at nearly everything that Mercutio had said. Triumph! Thank god he got to pull that off. Mercutio is the central jokester of the play, and when he dies, the story grows sad, and more into a tragedy than it had ever been before.

And the death scene? Fucking sick! Richie has always wanted to die before. Well, you know what I mean.

There's still a lot left to the story from here on, and thank god he gets to sit back for the rest of the show. He can feel his hand is still shaking, but he grins at the reminder this time, content with feeling, the rush of adrenaline theatre brings him.

"You were fucking amazing!" Stan exclaims as the halls of the school empty out. Richie grins and hugs Stan in response.

The Losers all of course came to the show, but considering the occasion ended around ten o'clock (which included the meeting up afterwards and chatting up a storm in the lobby), most of them needed to rush home by the end of the night anyways.

He had embraced Eddie in a huge

hug the second he saw him again after the show, nearly lifting him off the ground in the process. The Losers had plenty of time to fuck Richie over about his costume, but thankfully Beverly had shushed them all before they could get a single negative word out.

Now, Richie is changed back into his average clothing, and he feels invincible. As though he were a superhero, having to return to his secret identity now. It's a sucky one, he can't lie. But tonight was amazing. He did amazing. Wow. It shouldn't surprise him, after all the praise he's received from all kinds of different projects, including this one, but it always still does send a shock wave of wow really? through him.

"Thanks for helping out, by the way" Richie tells Stan in the silence of the hallway, nodding to him appreciatively.

"'Course, Richie. I love doing that sort of thing anyways, as much as I'd hate to admit, so it's nothing" Stan shakes his head with a sheepish shrug, and Richie can't help but give him another short hug from the side.

The auditorium doors behind them burst open. "Hey guys!" Jason calls out to them with a wide grin, along with Jared, another lighting person, and a few others following out behind him. "I think this is the last of us. Director is just in there picking up a few things now" he says with a shrug.

"It's fucking freezing in here," Jared comments with a grimace, folding his arms over himself in a hug. He sees Stan rolling his eyes with a smile, and flips him off kindly.

"We did great tonight, guys!!" one of the townsperson says, and Richie laughs with a nod. All of them exchange high fives around in a circle, not coordinated in the slightest.

"Well, I'm heading out! Mom's here!" one of them says, and Richie and Stan wave

them goodbye.

"Me too, see you guys tomorrow! Where we do it all over again!" another one laughs, hopping out of the building with a smile.

"Yup, I'm sure it'll all go perfectly just like today, to be honest" Stan shrugs, nodding  genuinely and slowly walking toward the exit with the rest of them, prepared to wait outside for the rest of them. "I mean, after tonight, what could go wrong?"

Richie nods with a satisfied grin, and holds the door open for the others to come out.

Jared thanks him as he steps out -and with a wavering hand, pauses for a second before sneezing into the crook of his elbow.

HEYY :D TOTALLY NOTHING GOING ON HERE HAHHAHA :)

jk y'all know what's about to go down.

this is not exactly my fav chapter tbh :/ but anyways WOAH WE'RE ALMOST TO 1k READS?!?!?! you guys are so amazing oh my gOODNESS WTF. love you all sm, i'm sure you're expecting me to say what i always say about the next chapter, but do i even have to

lol

- author