(It had been a month. A month that wasn't awful, but with the memories, with how they had come and gone, it had been bad. And Eddie hadn't known if he'd ever see any of his friends ever again. The gasp he sucks down is wheezing and sharp, and Eddie closes his hands over his face to try and collect himself. (What if he hadn't made it?)
He splits open his fingers, wet eyes peeking out from between. Richie with his stupid glasses and Goddamn insistence on calling him Eds. He was here. In the flesh. Real. Not a memory, not a dream, not some fragment of some fucked up nightmare.
Eddie pulls his hands away from his face and he's grabbing Richie again, but this time it's to hold on and hug fiercely. He's not very strong, but that doesn't mean he can't grip something tight. He was not crying. Absolutely not. If Richie noticed a slight dampness on the shoulder of his shirt, that was purely sweat from anxiety.)
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He splits open his fingers, wet eyes peeking out from between. Richie with his stupid glasses and Goddamn insistence on calling him Eds. He was here. In the flesh. Real. Not a memory, not a dream, not some fragment of some fucked up nightmare.
Eddie pulls his hands away from his face and he's grabbing Richie again, but this time it's to hold on and hug fiercely. He's not very strong, but that doesn't mean he can't grip something tight. He was not crying. Absolutely not. If Richie noticed a slight dampness on the shoulder of his shirt, that was purely sweat from anxiety.)
Don't- Don't call me that.