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skeletonscribbles · 6 years

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At Least It’s Not Sports (Part Four - Senior Year, Second Semester)

and here’s the grand finale! thanks for hanging out, theatre nerds, and happy Richie Tozier’s birthday!

Title: At Least It’s Not Sports (High School Drama Club AU)

Pairings: Reddie, Stanlon, Benverly, Bill x Audra

Rating: less explicit than last time but still a quick sexy moment

Summary: Richie interrupted his thoughts. “So. You wanna talk?” Eddie didn’t want to talk. He wanted to kiss Richie so hard that they both forgot everything about what had happened between them, and then he wanted to start over from there. He reined back his imagination and nodded slowly. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Warnings: excessive sappiness, straightforward Stan

Freshman Year / Sophomore Year / Junior Year / Senior Year First Semester

Read on Ao3!

They didn’t talk to each other for a little while after The Incident.

Everything else was normal. They both ate at the same lunch table, both continued to socialize with their friends, both went through the motions of school. They just...didn’t talk to each other.

It fucking sucked.

Eddie missed Richie with everything in him, to the point where it was physically painful to even look at him most days. He knew he was the one that had fucked up - if he hadn’t had so much to drink, then things wouldn’t have escalated in the first place - but for the first time, it really, truly felt like Richie hated him, and that was almost unbearable.

More than that, it meant that Eddie didn’t have anyone he could talk to. Richie had morphed, over the summer, into not only friend and crush but confidante. Eddie trusted him implicitly - always had, even when things were rocky - and though he loved the rest of his friends, his relationship with them wasn't the same. Even Bev didn’t get him like Richie did - didn’t listen and understand like Richie could.

He found himself on the phone with Stan a lot.

“I don't know if you should talk to him, Eddie, I really don’t.” Stan sounded tired. He always sounded tired. College seemed exhausting. “You probably really freaked him out. I can’t imagine hooking up with someone only to realize after the fact that they weren't really in any position to consent.”

“I did consent,” Eddie insisted, cradling his cellphone to his ear and willing his mother to stay out of his room. “I wanted it. All of it.”

“Did you tell him that?”

Eddie sighed. “No. But he won’t even look at me.”

“If you tell him that, he might.”

“But--”

“Don’t call me if you don’t want my advice, Eddie,” Stan said, and hung up.

“I applied to NYU--” Eddie tried, hoping that a subject change would keep Stan on the phone, but he was already gone.

The winter play rolled around much like it always did - too quickly. Bill was absolutely beside himself with making sure that everything was running smoothly...no matter how many times Eddie assured him that yes, everything was running smoothly. Bev’s costumes were sublime, Ben’s set design was sophisticated and easy to work with and around (which Eddie very much appreciated, as SM), and Richie was brilliant in a part that had literally been written for him.

In short, it was perfect, and Eddie absolutely hated it.

He hated that every single thing on stage was a visual reminder of the fact that they were leaving; that it was their last straight play together. He hated Bill’s obsessing, and Bev’s incessant swatching, and Ben’s need to focus and refocus the lights.

Most of all, he hated having to watch Richie. The stage was where Richie belonged; where Eddie had fallen in love with him, and now, it was where Eddie came back to have his heart sliced open again and again and again.

Sometimes, Richie would catch him looking. Those were probably the moments that sucked the worst. Neither of them had any idea what to do, so Eddie would end up angrily returning to his clipboard and Richie would shove his hands in his pockets and look down.

Stan was still on winter break through their final dress rehearsal, and so decided to come in to assess the play’s progress. (Eddie was pretty sure he was actually there to check out attractive, older Bill, but that was apparently neither here nor there...and besides, Stan and Mike were still going strong.) When he saw what was going on between Richie and Eddie, he all but ripped out his curls.

“Why didn’t you tell me that things were this bad,” he hissed once Eddie had given his end of show notes. Eddie had been careful not to include Richie in them for the last couple of runs because he didn’t want to seem vindictive...but there were some major prop switches that Richie needed to make, and Eddie knew that Stan had noticed each and every one. “It’s impacting the show.”

Eddie sighed. “I did tell you. Obviously you’re not listening to the shit I tell you over the phone.”

“No, I’m not,” Stan acquiesced. “Well, shit, Eddie.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie agreed, pulling the strings of his black hoodie tight enough that his face was enveloped in his hood.

“So let’s fix it.” Stan was not in the mood for pity parties (not now, and really not ever). He stood up once Ms. Starrett was finished giving acting notes, and crossed down through the sea of departing actors. Eddie watched him, frozen with panic.

“You mean right now?!”

“Right now,” Stan confirmed. “If the audience has to watch Richie Tozier walk onstage tomorrow with a dagger that looks like it came out of a Polly Pocket set, it will be your fault, and I will be sure to murder you personally. We are talking to him right now.”

“Tyrant,” Eddie moaned, shuffling reluctantly after him.

Richie’s face lit up when he saw Stan, and Eddie felt an ugly pang of jealousy - it had been weeks since Richie had looked at him with anywhere near that kind of excitement.

“O Stanny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling!” Richie pulled Stan into a hug, which Stan returned with minimal enthusiasm and mild disgust. “What brings you back to hang with us lowly folk?”

“First and most importantly, I hate you,” Stan began, counting off on his fingers. “Second, grab a different knife from the prop table at the beginning of act two, for the love of God.”

Richie’s face fell. “I like the pink one, though.”

“Third,” Stan continued, plowing through at a rate that was making Eddie’s heart hammer, “I’ve got someone here who’d like to talk to you.”

“Mike?” Richie looked around with interest.

“I wish.” Stan took a moment to look wistful, and then reached back to pull Eddie forward. “Ta-da.”

Eddie swallowed hard and willed himself to sink through the floor.

Richie was pretending to look pleasantly surprised, but his switch to a shitty Russian accent betrayed the fact that Stan had actually put him off of his game. “Zees eeez...veddy unexpected, Comrade.”

“That’s me,” Stan said, purely monotone, “Mr. Unexpected.”

Richie and Eddie blinked back at him.

“Well, okay.” Stan ran a hand through his hair matter-of-factly. “My work here should never have started, but it did, and now it’s done, and I’m gonna go to Mike’s. Use protection if it comes to that, please.”

Neither of them felt like they were in a position to respond to Stan’s insult, so he was met with silence. This was clearly very satisfying for him; he walked away with a smile on his face. Richie and Eddie watched him until he reached the door.

Eddie didn’t want to be the first one to break the silence, so he turned back and looked at Richie’s hands instead. They were way bigger than his, and obviously not paid much mind to (there was a callous on the inside of his right pointer finger from his pencil, and there were pen scribbles up and down his arms from when he was bored in class), but Eddie had always thought that they were kind of beautiful.

Richie interrupted his thoughts. “So. You wanna talk?”

Eddie didn’t want to talk. He wanted to kiss Richie so hard that they both forgot everything about what had happened between them, and then he wanted to start over from there.

He reined back his imagination and nodded slowly. “I think that would be a good idea.”

“I think so, too.” Richie took a deep breath, and gestured to one of the rows of auditorium seats. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.” Eddie sat in the space that Richie had gestured to, feeling awkward about how formal this all suddenly felt. Richie looked like he felt the same way, which was a small comfort.

Once they were both situated, Eddie geared himself up, and began.

“I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said, picking at his shoelaces.

Richie crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. “I’m not super sure what you’re sorry about. I’m the one that did the fucked up thing, remember?”

“No.” Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look at Richie. “No, Rich. I, uh, planned the getting drunk and talking to you thing. I planned it.”

“Okay, what.” Eddie knew that Richie’s eyes were on him; could almost feel them, like they were laser beams. “I don’t think I get it.”

“I wanted to be with you, and I didn’t think I was going to be brave enough to be honest about that if I was sober,” Eddie said, so quickly that it was basically incomprehensible. He forcibly jerked his head up to look at Richie - he didn’t want to know how much Richie was going to hate him, but he had to deal with the repercussions of all this properly or he’d be kicking himself for years, probably.

Eddie could practically see Richie deciphering and then processing the information he’d been given. His eyebrows went up, and he knitted his brow in concentration. “Okay. I mean - am I really that scary?”

“Sometimes,” Eddie admitted, feeling the tips of his ears go scarlet. “Mostly, I think I’m scared of myself.”

“And why is that?” Richie started to bounce his leg. Eddie was starting to feel anxious by proxy.

This crazy, stupid dancing around each other shit needed to stop. Eddie was going to put an end to it, right this instant.

“Because I want you so much,” Eddie breathed, looking Richie directly in the eyes. “I know you’re gonna break my heart, and I want you anyway.”

Richie inhaled softly and flexed his fingers, seemingly debating whether or not to touch Eddie. He ultimately withheld his hands, but he kept his eyes on Eddie, combing up and down.

“I didn’t date April because I liked her,” Richie finally said, tapping on his leg. “You know that, right?”

Eddie thought about it - remembered the sick, churning jealousy he used to feel when he saw Richie and April together. “I didn’t at the time.”

“And I didn’t leave you at the cast party because I didn’t want you,” he continued, closing his eyes. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since that first fucking day, when you sassed me back at the Workshop.”

“Oh.” Eddie didn’t know how to respond to that. His stomach was tied in so many knots that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to eat for weeks. He’d always assumed that Richie was joking - at least in the early days. “Why, um...why didn’t you tell me?”

Richie turned a little bit so that his upper body was facing Eddie. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re scary, too. And it’s hard, you know...when you’re a little shit who can’t fucking hold it together when his crush starts flirting back.”

Eddie didn’t know what he was talking about...and then suddenly, he did.

“Is that what happened sophomore year?” Eddie asked, genuinely curious. Richie chuckled.

“Yeah. My feelings were kicking my ass, and I saw something happening that I felt like I didn’t deserve, so I...bailed.”

“Are you gonna bail this time?”

Eddie didn’t know what prompted him to say that, but he was a little mortified that he had. He buried his head in his hands, face burning red.

Before he had a chance to cool down, one of his hands was being tugged away from his face. Richie took it and held it between both of his own, like it was something precious.

“I’m gonna do my best,” Richie said softly.

This time, when he leaned in for a kiss, Eddie didn’t pull away.

----

“So are you guys like, dating?” Ben squinted at the two of them, confused.

It was the next day at lunch, and Richie had just finished recounting their post-rehearsal conversation to their friends...which was embarrassing as fuck, especially because Richie kept trying to embellish the things that he said to make it sound more badass...but it felt like stuff that everyone else needed to know. The group had put up with their shit for a long, long time.

Eddie shrugged. “Something like that.”

Bev stared between the two of them with murderous eyes.

“Something like that?! I listened to both of you asshats whine about your feelings for years! You’re dating, and that’s final! I deserve this!”

Richie sipped at his water bottle. “Yeah, okay.”

Still fuming, Bev pushed herself up and over to the hot lunch line. Richie and Eddie watched her go, and as soon as she was gone, put their joined hands on the lunch table.

“You know, me and Bev are dating,” Ben said, trying to add relevant information to the conversation.

“We know,” Richie, Eddie, Bill, and Audra chorused.

“Oh.” Ben thought about that. “Shit.”

“We’re all coupled off, now,” Bill said, giving Richie and Eddie a warm smile. “Fucking gross.”

“Fucking gross,” Eddie agreed, feeling almost serene for the first time in his whole adolescence.

----

Sonia took the news considerably less well.

Eddie had turned eighteen back in September, and so was an adult and legally able to leave Sonia’s house should the need arise. This was the primary reason he decided to tell Sonia that he’d been actively disobeying her all year - if she tried anything, he could leave, and Richie had already offered his house as a sanctuary of sorts. Richie’s parents knew and understood the circumstances, and seconded Richie’s offer enthusiastically. (They’d met Eddie at cast events before, and when Richie brought him back to his house for the first time, Maggie Tozier had taken one look at the two of them, thrown her head back, and let out a big, hearty laugh - Richie’s laugh - and said “Oh, FINALLY, Richard.”)

Eddie would have loved to have had Richie there for the big reveal, but that would only have made things worse, guaranteed.

“Mama,” he said, on one otherwise unremarkable night in mid-March, “I have news.”

“If it’s to say that you got into that New York school, put the thought out of your head,” Sonia said irritably, “you’ll catch something awful in those disgusting subways.”

Eddie had, in fact, gotten into NYU’s College of Arts and Sciences for prehealth, but that wasn’t the conversation he was looking to have at the moment.

“It’s about Richie Tozier,” he said, bracing himself.

Sure enough, she whipped around, eyes glinting. “What about Richard Tozier, Edward?”

Eddie took a deep breath, looked her dead in the eyes, and bit the bullet. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Sonia genuinely didn’t know what to do with herself at that. Her face changed colors several times before settling on an unattractive purple, and she gestured wildly with her hands. It would have been funny if Eddie weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I knew he’d lure you back in,” she finally hissed. “Boys that...evocative...are nothing if they’re not preying on younger, nicer--”

“I’m older than Richie,” Eddie said, anger bubbling up in his throat, “it was his birthday last week...and he’s a good person, mama. I’m with Richie because he’s a good person.”

“He’s corrupted you.” Sonia reached for the landline, which was on the table next to her chair. “I’m calling the doctor.”

“I won’t go.” Eddie stood firm, even though his nerves were all but begging him to buckle. “I’m eighteen now, mom. I won’t go.”

They glared at each other for an uncomfortably long time. Eddie could see the fear in her eyes - the lack of understanding, the hatred - and he wondered, not for the first time, how he could have possibly grown up to be the person he was while living in her household.

“Go to your room,” she said once the silence became unbearable. “Don’t come back down.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie muttered, climbing the stairs with great relief.

She stopped acknowledging him after that, for the most part. Eddie counted it as a win.

----

The musical was a joyous experience, especially compared to the icy treatment Eddie was getting at home.

Ms. Starrett had picked a comedy for Richie, and he was absolutely thriving in his role. Every time he got to pratfall or do an exaggerated voice, his eyes would flick over to Eddie for a split second, and Eddie lived for those moments - lived to bask in that joy.

Well, really, actually, Eddie was living for every single moment he spent in Richie’s company. Eddie had quietly loved his time stage managing for the drama club since his freshman year. Losing himself in cues and notes and schedules was so easy, and he loved seeing the finished product and knowing that he’d played a central role in making things come to be.

There had only been one piece missing, and now that he had it, Eddie was loudly loving his time stage managing. Mrs. Starrett couldn’t believe how drastically his mood had changed, and was being really nosy about trying to figure out the reason. (Eddie was pretty sure she already know and just wanted to hear him say it, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction after last year’s ‘Richie and Eddie bit’ debacle.)

The rest of the cast found it...extremely annoying.

“You know, I thought I wanted this,” Bev said after she caught Richie with his hands down Eddie’s pants in the costume closet for the fourth time, “but so help me God, if this happens again, I will castrate you both.”

“Does Ben know about your interest in our dicks?” Richie asked, not removing his hands from the bare skin of Eddie’s ass. Eddie closed his eyes and prepared for swift death by way of Beverly Marsh.

“Just make it quick this time, dumbass.” Beverly turned on her heel and left, obviously disgusted. “But then, it’s always quick for you.”

Eddie giggled against Richie’s lips as they listened to her leave. “She got you.”

“You got me,” Richie mumbled, groping Eddie’s ass with renewed interest. “You got all of me.”

“I did,” Eddie said, in wonder and amazement, kissing him fiercely. “Holy shit, I did.”

Like all joyous things, though, the musical was over far too soon. Before Eddie knew it, he was watching Richie, Bill, and Bev take their final bows, wearing matching togas and crying. (Eddie may also have been crying, but nobody needed to know that.) Richie looked offstage for a moment and blew him a kiss, eyes sparkling with tears and emotion, and Eddie flipped him off in return, heart full.

“You okay down there, Eddie?” Ben’s voice came cautiously over the headset. He was a junior and there was no need for him to shed any tears yet, so he was rather alarmed by his friends’ emotional outbursts.

“I’m not crying, Ben, shut up,” Eddie hissed into his headset.

“I didn’t say--”

“Shut up,” Eddie repeated, switching off his headset and turning back to the stage, trying to memorize the way Richie’s curls haloed in the stage lights.

Eddie skipped out on the final part of crew cleanup (he’d been in this program for four whole years; he deserved a little bit of leeway, and besides, Stan had done the same thing his senior year) to go greet Richie in the lobby after the show. He had pretty much stopped crying by then, so he figured he was safe to appear in public without anyone questioning his red eyes.

He was so wrong. As soon as he saw Richie standing with his parents, looking gleeful and absolutely wrecked, his eyes immediately started to burn with happy tears.

“Richie,” he called, reaching into his bag to grab the comic books and candy he’d bought as a congratulatory present. (Richie always killed flowers, so that was out.) “C’mere!”

It took Richie a moment to locate him, but once he did, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He bounded over to Eddie in four neat strides, reached out, and swooped him up in his arms, spinning him crazily. “Eds, Eds, Eds!”

“Oh my fuck--put me down, idiot!” Eddie banged on his shoulder, trying and failing to pretend to be upset. “I’ve got stuff for you, and you just made me drop it.”

“So sweet,” Richie cooed, getting in one more good spin before putting Eddie back down, “Spaghetti Kaspbrak really thinks that I’d want any gift but a date with his mo--”

“Shut UP,” Eddie groaned, pulling himself up on his tiptoes, “shut up, shut up.”

“With pleasure,” Richie agreed, pulling him in for a terrible (wonderful) kiss with too much teeth and Richie’s glasses pressed uncomfortably into Eddie’s face. Eddie heard Ms. Starrett give a little excited cheer behind him, and couldn’t help but giggle into Richie’s mouth. For all of her poking around, it was nice to know that they had her support.

“Edward.” Eddie jumped back at the sound of a second, uncomfortably familiar voice. Richie opened his eyes and peered out through his glasses, looking confused and a little hurt, but his expression morphed into extreme concern when he saw who was behind Eddie.

With a shudder, Eddie turned around to face his mother.

“Mom?”

Sonia looked uncharacteristically pensive. She wasn’t dressed as fancily as she usually did to leave the house - she was wearing a tracksuit and no garish jewelry - and her eyes were trained on the ground.

“I wanted to say,” she began, “that--”

“Mama don’t,” Eddie pleaded softly, looking anxiously between her and Richie.

“That I thought the show was very amusing,” she finished, looking up - not at him, but at Richie. “You performed very well, Richard.”

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets, stunned. “Uh. Thanks, Mrs. K.”

“I hope you’re proud, Edward.” Her eyes fell on Eddie, now, and it was all Eddie could do not to cry. He’d never imagined she’d make an effort - never in a million years thought that she’d be nice to Richie, or appreciate any of the things that Eddie enjoyed.

For all of the shit she’d put him through - and all of the shit she’d put him through in the future, because this wasn’t totally fixed yet, not by a long shot - she did love him, at the end of the day.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispered.

She straightened up. “I expect you back home by ten.”

“Yes,” he said numbly. “Okay.”

“Have a nice night, boys,” she said, turning to leave. “Be appropriate, and Eddie-bear...take your medicine.”

“Okay!” Eddie said, at the same time that Richie said, “You’re one in a million, Mrs. K!”

After she exited the door of the lobby, Eddie turned back to Richie. “Am I dreaming?”

“Fuck if I know.” Richie smiled, soft and sweet. “All dreams are good dreams when both me and your mother are involved, though--”

“Choke on a thousand dicks,” Eddie laughed, and kissed him again, dizzy with hope and disbelief.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect closing night.

----

By the time the drama awards happened, they all knew where they were going off to college - except for Richie.

Eddie had sent in his paperwork to NYU, and was incredibly excited to be able to start fresh in a place that was so...not Derry. His mother wasn’t thrilled about his decision, and was, alarmingly, looking for apartments just outside of the city so as to be nearer to him, but Eddie was handling that. It was nice to feel like he could handle that, now.

(Stan was kind of upset that Eddie hadn’t chosen to join he and Mike in Boston, but given that Bill was enrolled in Boston University’s playwriting program, he couldn’t complain.)

Bev was headed to the city, too - she was going to study fashion at Parsons, which Eddie thought was just perfect. Ben wasn’t graduating until the year after, but he was already looking into NYU (or Columbia, as a reach) for architecture and design.

Richie had gotten into some schools - SUNY Pace and Purchase for acting, as well as Emerson in Boston (Stan had voiced some concerns about having Richie in Boston, but Eddie was pretty sure he was secretly hoping for it to happen), but he was still waiting to hear back from his first choice, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. He and Eddie were both going a little crazy over the lack of response - Richie because it was his future, and Eddie because he felt like they deserved to be in the same place for the next four years, after all the shit they’d gone through to be together.

The letter came on the day of the awards, and Richie all but had a nervous breakdown.

“I was already terrified of not getting anything tonight, but now this?” Richie brandished the letter at Eddie like it was on fire. “This?!?”

The letter was tellingly large. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“They don’t send all this shit to people who don’t get in, you absolute nerd,” Eddie sighed, taking the offending object from Richie’s hands. “You want me to open it?”

“Please,” Richie mumbled, bouncing on the soles of his feet. “Just...rip off the bandaid.”

Eddie tore open the white paper and extracted a folder. He opened it, and felt his own nerves melt away.

“Congratulations, Richard Tozier,” Eddie read triumphantly, “you’re gonna act at NYU!”

Richie leapt at Eddie so ferociously that the two of them went toppling down onto the grass of Richie’s front lawn. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care about the inevitable grass stains on the back of his polo - instead, he reached for Richie and kissed every inch of space on his face that he could reach. Finally, finally, finally, the universe was giving them a go-ahead.

“This is the best day of my fucking life,” Richie crowed, grabbing Eddie’s face and kissing him back firmly. “Which program did they put me in?”

Eddie re-opened the folder. “Uh. Experimental theatre wing?”

“Yesssss,” Richie breathed, “the weird shit. Oh, Eds, the future’s gonna kick ass for us, isn’t it?”

“It better,” Eddie said, curling himself against Richie and burying his face in his shoulder. “No, it will. We’ll be together, so it will.”

“Cute, cute, cute.” Richie snaked his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Hey, do you think you’ll pick back up with stage management when you’re there? You know...for me?”

“Don’t ruin it,” Eddie warned, words half-muffled by Richie’s shoulder.

Richie laughed. “Just a thought. You know...for youherrrrr considehrrratiohnnnn,” he finished, moving into an unplaceable accent.

“We’ll figure shit out when we get there,” Eddie said, giving Richie a halfhearted shove for using a stupid voice.

Whatever happened, it would be okay. They’d figure it out together.

----

And if Eddie was considering continuing to stage manage, well...Richie didn’t have to know that until later.

----

Eddie Kaspbrak loved theatre.

There were a lot of things about him that he wasn’t super sure about, but that much he knew was unequivocally true. He loved the lights, the sets, the way the mood changed when the lights went down. He loved knowing that everything was in its place; he loved being the person that called the shots to make the magic happen. He even loved the people - he knew that all of the friends he’d made there over the years were friends that he’d keep forever.

Most of all, though, Eddie loved watching Richie Tozier do theatre. He loved seeing Richie perform, he loved watching him win the award for ‘Best Overall Acting’ at their senior drama awards, and he loved the fact that Richie was going to be able to move on and do the thing that he was so absolutely tremendous at.

Eddie Kaspbrak loved theatre...and Richie Tozier, and that was that.

End scene, blackout.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanlon #stanley uris #mike hanlon #benverly #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #audra phillips #bill x audra #the losers club #it 2017 #it movie #stephen king's it #theatre au #it's done and it's gross rip

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