⚠ Alcoholism, mention of self harm and suicide ⚠

rEdDiE fLuFf??

ReDdIe aNgSt??

bOtH?!

•°•One week later•°•

*Richie's POV*

Eddie walked into our apartment after another day visiting Stan.

"Eddie Spaghetti!" I slurred, finishing my third beer. "My man!"

"Richie..." he sighed. "I thought we talked about this..."

"Well, yeah. But then I got all these memories, so I was like 'Fuck it!' and now I'mma drink again!"

I stumbled past him and towards the fridge, quickly grabbing and opening another beer.

"That's not good, Rich," Eddie said calmly and took the bottle from me. "You gotta stop doing this."

"I don't give a fuck, Eds!" I furrowed my brows and reached out for the bottle. I grabbed it quickly and downed half of it in one sip.

"Richie, please-"

"Shut up, Edward! I can do whatever the fuck I want, ok?!" I snapped at him.

He froze and looked at me with scared eyes before quickly looking at the floor.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly. "Pl-please don't hurt me."

My heart stopped. This was all wrong. He's not supposed to be scared of me. I'm not supposed to be the "New Dan". I'm not going to hurt him, but he doesn't trust me.

Because I went back on a promise.

Because I hurt him.

•°•back to the present•°•

"Richie, we have to talk." Eddie sighed after Bev, Emily and Ruby left our apartment. "You have to stop drinking."

"I know, Eddie-" I grumbled before he cut me off.

"I'm serious. It's a problem. When I was with Dan, I was always waking up to drunken phone calls from you at 2 in the morning. And I never said anything because, well, I thought you would leave me if I ever stepped out of line. But now that we're dating, I have a right to say this. You need to stop drinking. It's a problem, Richie. I'm not saying you're...alcoholic, but it's definitely getting there."

No... I can't be alcoholic. That's what my dad was, that's why he starting beating me. He got way too drunk one time, that's when it all started. I can't do that to myself and the rest of the Losers.

And Eddie. From what I've heard, Dan drinks a lot. Eddie can't be in a relationship with an alcoholic again, it'll hurt him too much. There's too many memories...

"E-Eds...I'm such a douche," I muttered and walked over to him. "I'm so sorry. I'm gonna try, ok?"

"Ok," Eddie smiled at me softly. "Thanks, Trashmouth."

"No problem, Spaghetti." I ruffled his hair and grinned down at him.

•°•

*Eddie's POV*

"R-Rich?" I muttered, shaking. I had a bad dream, and I would never tell him this, but Richie triggered it. He's drinking a lot again, and it's bringing up a lot of bad memories.

Richie didn't answer me, he's still asleep. I looked over at the clock next to me. 2:38 am.

I sighed and rolled over on the bed, facing away from Richie. I tried to ignore the blaring pain in my sides. Bev told me about this, it's phantom pains. It's not really happening, but since I'm thinking about Dan, I'm also thinking about all the times he would cut up my stomach and sides.

I sat up, restless. My hands drifted over my scarred stomach, tracing each line. I starting crying silently, trying not to wake Richie up.

"Fucknuts," he whispered in his sleep. "Eat the battery acid, you fucknuts."

I smiled, but still felt horrible. I moved out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. I splashed some water in my face and looked into the mirror.

"Get it together, Kaspbrak..." I mumbled.

A glint of something in the shower flickered in the mirror. I turned around and looked in.

Richie's razor. He still hasn't gotten rid of it. It's right there...right there for me to take. I could just grab it and smash it on the ground. Take a blade from the broken plastic and slide it across my skin. Bleed out before Richie even wakes up.

But that's not the plan. That's not what I'm doing to kill myself. And I'm not doing it yet, I still need time with Richie and the Losers before I go.

I sigh heavily and turn away from the shower. I'm not cutting myself, not yet. Unfortunately, that meant I'm still having a bad panic attack.

I looked down at my shaking hands, my breathing steadily picking up. Screw it I thought. If Richie gets mad at me for waking him up, it doesn't matter. I won't be alive for too much longer anyways.

I slowly walked back into our room and towards our bed. Richie was still peacefully fast asleep. I felt bad for waking him, but I don't care anymore. I need him.

"R-Rich..." I whispered and nudged him. "Richie, w-wake up..."

He groaned and moved over. Typical Richie.

"C'mon, wake up..." I said louder and pushed him harder. His eyes fluttered open and he turned to me.

As soon as he saw my tear-stained face and red eyes, he looked at me closer, panicked.

"Eds, what happened?! Are you ok?"

"B-bad dream...D-Dan..." I huffed and climbed into bed next to him. His lanky arm moved to my waist and pulled me closer to him. I put my head against his chest and he kissed my forehead.

"You're ok Eddie, I'm here for you now," Richie sighed into my ear. "Panic attack?"

I nodded and looked down at my knees, which I had tucked into my chest. Richie ran his hand up and down my back and whispered words of praise to me.

"You're so amazing, you know that? And you're incredibly brave and I'm so proud to be your boyfriend. You, Eddie Kaspbrak, are the baddest of badasses."

I grinned and looked up at him.

"M-music?" I whimpered, my throat quite sore after crying for so long. I didn't realize how long I was in the bathroom, but when Richie moved over, I could see the clock. 4:41 am.

Richie grabbed his MPMan and handed it to me.

"Track 8, Eds," he smiled softly at me. "I made sure to have our song on here."

"You didn't..." I gasped and flipped it to the song.

"Oooh, oooh ooh! Put your head on my shoulder..."

"Richie," I sighed and put the MP3 player down.

"I knew you'd like it, Eddie Spaghetti." Richie grinned at me and wrapped his hands around me again. We swayed in tune to the song.

"Hold me in your arms, baby
Squeeze me oh-so-tight
Show me that you love me too

Put your lips next to mine, dear
Won't you kiss me once, baby?
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe
You and I will fall in love"

That year when Richie and I were going to date, he had me over at his house for our first date. He made an entire playlist of all of Paul Anka's songs.

It was so romantic. He made me a candlelit dinner and we listened to all of Paul's hits. Most of them were old, from the sixties, but we didn't care. They were our songs.

"People say that love's a game
A game you just can't win
If there's a way
I'll find it someday
And then this fool will rush in

Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear
Tell me, tell me that you love me too"

He told me he loved me, I said it back. But his parents came home early and saw us dancing and kissing to this song. He made me run away from them, and the next day, he wouldn't tell me what happened.

"Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear, baby
Put your head on my shoulder"

We never talked about it again. School started up again, and we never went on another date, never told the Losers, nothing.

"Things are different now Eddie," Richie said as the song ended. "I'm not leaving you. We can finally be ourselves."

But I'm not going to enjoy it for long. I wish I could, but that's not the plan. I wish we could stay like this for forever, just the two of us.

But I have to die, I just have to.