Chapter Text
“How bad is it?”
Richie shrugs, trying not to wince at the way the simple movement makes his shoulder ache. His legs are dangling over the edge of the counter, his jeans damp from the rain they had to wait in until Bill had finally managed to figure out how to buzz them into his apartment building using the intercom. “It’s not that bad,” he tries to reassure, but the strain in his voice gives him away.
An alarmed noise comes from the back of Eddie’s throat, who’s standing between Richie’s legs with his hands cupping Richie’s face, eyes wide and concerned. “Not only is that already an obvious lie,” he says, frowning, “but I would have seen your eyebrow twitch if it wasn’t. Be honest. What hurts?”
Sighing, Richie admits, “My eye and my lip, mostly, but my shoulder’s kinda sore from hitting the wall.” Eddie hums, his brows drawn together slightly as he gently swipes his thumb under Richie’s right eye, where the bruising is just beginning to show. Richie flinches at the pressure, offering a wobbly smile as he murmurs, “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”
“Are you kidding me?” Eddie asks, an incredulous look on his face as he shakes his head, pulling away slightly to meet Richie’s gaze. “It went better than I expected, honestly. I mean, yeah, I would have preferred no violence, but...” he trails off, expression fond as he leans in to give Richie a quick (and extremely careful, due to his busted lip) kiss.
Richie hesitates. “You’re not upset?”
“I’m mad at him for hitting you before really listening to us,” Eddie tells him, tilting his head up to examine his lip a bit more closely. “But I think he’s coming to his senses, which is exactly what I wanted.”
There’s a look of awe on Richie’s face again, the same look that he’s worn time and time again over the last four months, as if he can’t really believe that Eddie’s real. With the awe, though, is worry. “What if he isn’t?” he asks.
“Then he loses you,” Eddie says, running a hand through Richie’s hair before picking up the damp rag off the kitchen counter and dabbing at his lip, trying to get rid of the blood smeared across his chin. “You told me a few months ago, and you told him today. If he doesn’t get his shit together, he loses you.”
Genuine fear takes over Richie’s face, making his lower lip tremble and his eyes water. “What if that’s not enough? What if... what if he’s okay with losing me?”
Instantly, Eddie drops the rag back onto the counter, taking Richie’s face in his hands once more and meeting his gaze sternly. “Listen to me, love,” he breathes, wiping gingerly at Richie’s cheeks as a few stray tears fall. “If he’s okay with losing you, then he’s the dumbest man to ever exist, okay? You’re the textbook definition of the person son, and anyone else would have given up on him by now, but you’re still here trying to get him back. Do you realize how incredible that is, Richie? You’re still willing to fight for him, even though he doesn’t deserve it after everything he’s done.”
“It’s not his fault,” Richie defends weakly, his features scrunching up slightly. “After losing Mom- he- he lost himself when he lost her–”
“I know, baby,” Eddie soothes, bringing back one hand to run through Richie’s hair again, knowing that it helps calm him down. “I know, but that doesn’t make it okay. You know that doesn’t make it okay.”
Richie exhales slowly, shaking his head to himself as his shoulders sag. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “This isn’t how your birthday should have gone.”
With a snort, Eddie points out, “I almost burned the house down on your birthday.”
This makes Richie chuckle, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. “Yeah,” he shrugs, “but it was a cute idea. Besides, the candles looked beautiful before you knocked one over and caught the curtain on fire.”
“And they say romance is dead,” Stan fake swoons as he walks into the kitchen, an ice pack in hand. He gives it to Eddie, who instantly wraps it in a paper towel before carefully pressing it against Richie’s eye. “So, do we get to know what happened yet?”
Eddie looks at Richie, who offers a stiff nod, before answering, “Yeah, but can you bring everyone in here? It’s a lot easier to look at his wounds like this and I want to make sure the bleeding stops.”
Stan agrees with a, “You got it, boss,” before leaving, coming back mere moments later with the rest of the losers trailing behind him. Richie looks around at them anxiously, already feeling overwhelmed by the amount of people in the room, but Eddie places a hand on his knee and reminds him to breathe. It’s been a few months since they started working on this, and it’s a slow process, but he’s getting better. After everyone settles into chairs at the dining table, they look at Eddie expectantly, knowing that Richie won’t be ready to speak for himself until he fully relaxes, which usually takes a few minutes to do.
“So,” Eddie starts, taking a moment to pull the ice pack away from Richie’s eyes, pleasantly surprised to see that the swelling is already going down. It’s still gonna bruise, no doubt about that, but still. “Richie tried to talk to Went about how he’s been a shitty dad for the past few years. It went pretty well, actually.”
Beverly snorts. “Really? ‘Cause from here it looks like Richie got a black eye.”
“And a busted lip,” Eddie nods, “but yeah, I’m being serious. He was kind of out of it, so he decided to throw punches instead of listening, but after a few minutes he calmed down. I don’t know if this’ll actually change anything, but we told him that we got an apartment here and that we’re moving out next week. Richie said that it’s up to him after that if he wants to stay in his life, and that if he does then he has to get his shit together and be a real parent again.”
Richie still isn’t ready to talk yet, but his lips twitch into a smile at the grin that Eddie gives him. Mike whistles, his eyebrows raised, and asks, “How’d he take it?”
Humming, Eddie waits until after he’s cleaned the rest of the blood off of Richie’s lip before answering, “Like I said, I don’t know if this’ll change anything, but I got the feeling that he was really listening. He started crying before we left.”
“Holy shit,” Bill breathes, looking both impressed and proud. “You really said all of that, Rich?”
All eyes turn to Richie, who fidgets slightly but manages to keep himself calm as he nods and says, “I mean- not as elegant, obviously, but yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“It was definitely the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Eddie jokes, but there’s a glint in his eyes that shows he means it. Seeing Richie standing there, no longer afraid of his father, defending himself and demanding that he deserves better... it was a gift that Eddie got to witness such a groundbreaking moment, even more so because he knows he helped get Richie to this point. He knows that, throughout the past eight months that they’ve known each other, and especially in the past four months that they’ve been dating, he has helped Richie and Richie has helped him.
Even in such a short amount of time, they’ve managed to strengthen one another.
He’s never been more grateful for anything in his life.
Richie rolls his eyes, his smile widening as he shakes his head. “Fuck off, Kaspbrak. And I got you a real present, by the way.”
“We all did,” Ben says, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a wrapped box that seems to appear out of thin air. Suddenly, the other four pull out presents of their own, also seemingly out of no where, and extend them out in his direction.
Richie blinks, looking just as surprised by this as Eddie is. “Okay, I wasn’t involved in this plan,” he mumbles, eyes wide. “I left your present at home.”
Grinning, Eddie shakes his head, going back to examining Richie’s face — there’s a second bruise high in his cheek, Eddie notices, that’s just beginning to appear in a light-yellow discoloration. “Presents later,” he instructs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of Richie’s nose, giggling as Richie crosses his eyes to look down at him. “I know there’s a cake around here somewhere, and I’m fucking starving.”
As the rest of the losers move around them, piling the gifts onto the dining table before pulling out the food they had prepared beforehand, Richie ducks his head to look Eddie in the eyes. Still doubtful and anxious, he asks, “You really aren’t upset about how today went? I mean- I had so much more planned, and I wanted to make it amazing–”
”Richie,” Eddie interrupts, his face melting into a fond look as he shakes his head once. “All I really wanted was to spend the day with you and the losers, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Eyes full of an intense sincerity that makes Richie’s heart skip a beat, Eddie softly promises, “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had, bruises and all.”