Chapter Text
It's a calm day in Derry. Most of the town is outside, strolling on sidewalks and mingling in the park. The sun is out, and there's a pleasant breeze blowing through the window in Stanley Uris's bedroom, bringing with it the fresh smell of cut grass. Eddie Kaspbrak is nestled on the floor with his back to Stan's bed, thumbing through a Cosmo magazine Mrs. Uris left in the living room, while Stan himself is on his bed, flicking through one of his bird manuals.
As weekends go, this one been boring as hell. The Denbroughs were vacationing in the Poconos, which meant that Bill has been busy watching Georgie, and Richie was occupied with helping Beverly move into her aunt's new place in Castle Rock. This has lead to many an afternoon like this one, killing time in Stan's room, reading and occasionally watching TV. Hanging out with Mike and Ben was fine, but Eddie and Stan sort of...clicked. They understood each other's neuroses, and shared a wry, biting sense of humor.
Whereas Richie was a goddamn hurricane, relentlessly spewing jokes and Voices until he got some sort of reaction, even if it was Eddie shoving him away and screaming for him to SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE -
Stop. Stop thinking of him.
It's a bad habit, one Eddie needs to break. It's not healthy for him to be so obsessed with his best friend, and it's definitely not healthy for him to be so fixated on his (very male, very straight) best friend's legs, or his toothy smile, or the way his hair curls around his ears.
It was just a stupid crush. This weekend was just making him hyperfocus, that was all.
Eddie listens to Stan humming to himself and relaxes a bit. He's safe now, safe here with Stan. Maybe if he came out to one of his best friends, it would make things better, somehow.
I could tell him.
Eddie knows that Stanley Uris is many things - meticulous, blunt, focused - but close-minded isn't one of them. He'd be okay with it. It's 1991, and times are changing. The world is still a brutal place for a gay fifteen year old boy, especially one living in fucking Derry.
Still, Eddie knows that he could come out to Stan right now, and it would be okay.
He could just...say it.
Stan, I'm gay.
But, after that would come questions. That is how talking to Stanley Uris works. If something is presented to him, such as a previously unknown fact, there are going to be follow up questions.
"Are you serious?
When did you find this out?
How do you know for sure?"
Then, inevitably:
"Does Richie know?"
Stan sighs, interrupting Eddie's thoughts as he shifts around on his bed. "Is it possible to actually die of boredom?"
Eddie smirks at Stan's dry tone and flicks through the magazine. "Maybe."
"Fuck. I'm going to die then."
"Well, don't. I don't want to deal with your stinking corpse."
"How magnanimous of you."
"Mmhmm. Hey, you wanna take one of these quizzes?"
Stan scoffs. "Are you serious?"
"Why not? Could be funny. Looks like there's a few of them. Oh, holy shit, this one's actually called "'What Type of Bitch Are You?' Good god, this is what they're subjecting grown women to?"
"Charming." Stan snorts. "Bill actually called me 'catty' last week."
"...Catty?"
"Yeah, because Ben was going on and on about the differences between infrastructure versus architecture, and he asked a question that I didn't answer, so Ben asked if I heard him and I told him that he didn't have to repeat himself, I was ignoring him just fine the first time."
Eddie giggles and makes a mental note to use that one on Richie. "Good one."
"Right? Well, Bill accused me of being catty, so..." Stan rolls his eyes. "Ben didn't even care."
"Yeah, but you know Bill, he's gotta look out for everybody. Like he's everybody's white knight."
Stan smiles at that, and even seems to blush a bit. "Yeah, that's Bill."
"Yup." Eddie grabs a nearby pen. "Okay, here's the first question. 'Someone dares to call you a bitch to your face. Do you: A) Thank them, because it's totally a compliment, or B) Start plotting their destruction?'"
"Well, it depends on who's saying it," Stan replies. "But assuming one of the many idiots at Derry High says it, I guess I'd go with B."
Eddie gives his friend an incredulous look. "How would you destroy them?"
Stan shrugs. "Humiliate them, I guess?"
"Uh, how?"
"I don't know! Maybe wait until some big event, like prom or something. Then I'd arrange for them to become the center of attention, like getting crowned prom king or queen, you know? And just as they're having their golden moment, I'd go up to the stage and throw a bucket of pig blood on them. A nice little 'fuck you'."
Eddie stares at his friend with wide eyes. "Holy....holy shit, Stan."
Stan shrugs again. "I don't know, it seems like something that would shut someone up."
"Pig's blood? Where would you even acquire this sort of thing?"
"Mike would help me. He owes me a favor, I helped him with his essay on Faulkner back in October. Anyway, it's just an idea. What's the next question?"
"Um. Okay, wow, I guess we're just moving past psychotic revenge ideas...ah!" Eddie flinches as Stan leans forward to flick at the back of his neck. "Okay, okay! Here...'A co-worker steals your lunch. Do you: A) Leave them a message that they now owe you two lunches and money for gas, or B) Start labelling all of your items in the fridge with huge, bright post-it notes?'"
Stan picks A, while Eddie chooses with B. The test, once finished, concluded that Stan was an aggressive bitch, while Eddie was a passive-aggressive bitch.
"Nice." Stan nudges Eddie with his foot. "Got another? I'm still bored."
"Um..." Eddie flips the page to find another quiz. "Oh. Hmm."
"What is it?" Stan leans over to read the title. "Oh."
"It's okay," Eddie says quickly. "It'll be...funny." His eyes scanned over the quiz, suddenly feeling queasy.
What Kind of Guy Do You Really Want?
"So. Um." Eddie clears his throat. "Okay. Um. So, the first question is, would you want your... your dream man to think you were A) brave, B) charming, C) interesting, or D) beautiful?"
"C," Stan replies, leaning over Eddie's shoulder. "I pick C. I'd want him to...uh. I mean, her...to think I was interesting, that's more important than someone thinking that I'm brave."
"You think so?" Eddie chews on his lower lip. "I think I'd..."
"You're braver than you think, Eds."
He could remember being breathless in the Tozier kitchen after outrunning Henry Bowers, Eddie's hand still throbbing from the punch to Henry's jaw after he called Richie a four-eyed fairy and Eddie his little bitch boy. Richie had placed a bag of frozen peas over Eddie's knuckles, staring at the smaller boy in awe as Eddie hissed at the contact.
"So brave, Eddie."
Eddie had protested that it was stupid, since he was now marked for death, but Henry ended up going to juvie for trying to stab a teacher and therefore was no longer a threat to the Losers. Eddie had gotten away with it, miraculously.
And the way Richie had looked at him...
Eddie circles A. I'd want him to think that I was brave. "So. Uh, well, anyone who knows you will think that you're interesting, Stan."
Stan pauses. "You think so?"
"Duh. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met. Plus you're funny."
"Oh. Um, thanks." Stan scoots closer. "You are brave, by the way."
Eddie cranes his neck to look at his friend, who's giving him a rare, warm smile. "Wait, what?"
Stan chuckles. "I heard about Bowers. Richie wouldn't shut up about it for weeks. Stupid, yes, but also...brave. And you stopped taking the placebos your mom was giving you. It takes courage to stand up to your parents."
"...Thanks." Eddie suddenly feels a strange shyness and looks back at the quiz. "Okay, next one. 'What is your dream man's most prized possession? A) His car, B) his scars and tattoos, C) his unsent love letters, or D) his imagination?'"
"Ha. C is totally Ben. But I go with D."
"Me too."
According to the quiz, there were ultimately four types of men - The Status King, The Hopeless Romantic, The Sweet Nerd, and The Bad Boy. Both Stan and Eddie roll their eyes at the reductive reasoning.
"Well, joke's on them, because we're clearly meant to find fellow Losers who will actually agree to date us." Stan flops back on the bed with a grunt. "Like that will ever happen."
"Yeah." Eddie tosses the magazine aside. "Well, for me, anyway."
"What?"
Eddie shrugs, picking at the carpet. "It's fine. I mean, I know what's going to happen."
"Yeah, Nostradamus?"
"Fuck you. I'm serious."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You guys will all get girlfriends. And, you know, a boyfriend, in Bev's case, and I'll be...I won't..." Eddie's throat clenches up, unable to finish the sentence.
"Okay, that's bullshit." Stan sits up again, rolling on his stomach and resting his head on his arms to look at his friend. "You don't actually believe that you're never going to find anyone, do you?"
Eddie laughs, his face burning. "It's not like I'm a catch."
"You honestly think I'm going to get a b...get someone to like me and you won't? What the fuck, Eddie?"
"I'm a fucking disaster!" Eddie shouts, throwing his hands up. "Look at me, Stan."
"I am looking, that's my point."
"I'm...I'm a fucking hypochondriac because my mother told me that I had allergies that I never fucking had, and I didn't even know it until we did that allergy test in the clubhouse, and you and Bill got all that food and Richie was waiting with an Epipen and you were all just watching me eat and kept asking if my mouth was tingling and it wasn't, so I had all this food that I'm still afraid to eat and no one's ever going to put up with that because I am goddamn sure there's so much more going on in my fucked up head, but I won't get able to get a therapist until I'm way older and I just know I'm not getting much taller and everybody's got a thing, like Bill's a writer and Richie's actually funny when he wants to be and you're clever and intelligent, and I'm..." Eddie starts gasping again, his fingers itching for his inhaler. "I'm...Stan, I'm..."
"Whoa, whoa..." Stan puts his arm on Eddie's shoulder and gives him a gentle squeeze. "Eddie, breathe. You're okay."
"See? I don't even fucking have asthma, but I..." Eddie coughs and tries to breathe deeply as Stan starts rubbing his upper back. "Sorry...oh god, I'm sorry..."
"Shush. Just breathe." Stan continues rubbing his back, slow gentle circles in a steady rhythm. "Breathe, Eddie. You've got this."
Eddie breathes. His mind wants to collapse into itself, but he focuses on how safe he feels, and the easy comfort that he has with Stan. Eddie can relax with the others - even Richie, to a degree - but Stan is an anchor, always the voice of reason.
"There you go." Stan's moving on his bed, scooting to the side and patting the space next to him. "Hey, come up here."
It's a slightly alarming moment, getting into another boy's bed, but Eddie obeys. Stan is Stan, after all. He's safe, and he's a friend.
Stan scoots over far enough to give Eddie space, but he's close enough to let Eddie feel his presence. It's soothing, and sweet. Eddie wants to thank him, but isn't sure how without sounding creepy. They lay side by side, staring at the ceiling as Eddie's pulse slows down to something that seems normal. "Sorry."
"Stop apologizing, you're fine." Stan smiles at him, and Eddie can't help but look at him and realize with a jolt that Stan's, well, cute, and rapidly approaching handsome.
"Yup, okay." Eddie should look away, but he doesn't want to seem too weird. "Um, thanks."
"Don't mention it." Stan looks him over, a strange expression on his face, and turns to look at the ceiling again. He's quiet for a long time, resting his hands on his stomach while he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "You are a catch, by the way."
Eddie instinctively wants to scoff, but there's something in Stan's tone that gets his attention. "I'm not sure you..."
"You're brave, so there's that, right? You're a really good friend, I always know that I can talk to you and...tell you anything, and you're funny and insightful. You're a good guy, Eddie."
"Thanks, Stan," Eddie says softly, and smiles at his friend. "I just feel...you know."
"Like a Loser?" Stan smiles as Eddie laughs. "Well, that's not going away. But that doesn't mean we're all hopeless, right?"
"Right."
They're quiet for a long time after that. Eddie relaxes, listening to the sounds of passing cars, the occasional bird, and Stan's slow, steady breathing. He starts to wonder if the other boy has fallen asleep, until Stan clears his throat. "Um, Eddie?"
"Hmm?" Eddie keeps his eyes on the ceiling. Truth be told, he was getting fairly sleepy himself. Stan's bed was comfortable, and Eddie had been having trouble sleeping lately. When they were younger, Richie would climb the tree outside of his window and let himself into Eddie's bedroom, sometimes even crawling into bed with him and wrapping his long, lithe body around Eddie's until they fell asleep. Richie had declared that Eddie was his personal warming blanket, but he hadn't come by in months, so it was probably just something that Richie grew out of.
Soon he was probably going to outgrow his need to be Eddie's friend, too. The thought was too horrible to fully comprehend.
"Eddie." Stan's voice is soft, fragile. "Eddie, I um. Need to tell you something."
"Hmm?" Eddie turns to see Stan's face turning a soft pink. "Are you okay? Do you need me to..."
"I'm gay."
Outside, a car drives by, birds chirp, and someone is pushing a lawnmower around. The world didn't end, but Eddie feels like his entire body is frozen. "What?"
"I'm gay." Stan furrows his brow. "Is that...is that a problem for you?"
"A problem?" Eddie huffs a laugh. "No, Stan. Not at all."
Stan purses his lips. "Okay. You're not just saying that, are you?"
"No, I swear it..."
"...Because if you're not comfortable with it, I deserve to know."
"I'm not just saying it." Eddie turns to him, his heart racing. "Stan...I'm gay too."
Stan returns his stare. "You're..."
"Gay. Yes."
"I was going to say kidding, but..."
"Not kidding. Gay."
"Holy shit." Stan huffs out a laugh. "Wow. And here I was torturing myself, thinking I'm the only gay guy in Derry."
Eddie grins at him. "We could start a club."
"The Gay Losers Club. A club within a club."
"Very, very exclusive. We could come up with a codeword..."
Stan raises an eyebrow. "Like a speakeasy?"
"Oh yes." Eddie giggles. "Maybe a secret handshake, too."
"Ohhh, classy."
The shared relief is palpable. Eddie feels like he could reach out and stretch it, wrap it around them like a protective blanket. He's reminded of all the times he and Stan would hover to the side as Richie and Bill would do something crazy, like wander into the sewers or jump off a fucking cliff.
Stan was Richie's friend first. Eddie can remember Richie excitedly pulling Stan over to Eddie's desk in second grade, yelling "This is the guy I've been telling you about!" and the two of them looking each other over while Richie bounced around like a broken spring. It didn't take long for Eddie to warm up to Stan, since it seemed like they had a lot in common, and now...
"Hey, Eddie?" Stan is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt again. "Um. Question for you. Well. More of a general thought, than a question, actually."
"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice soft and fragile as spun sugar.
"We could, you know. We could...go out. You and me. Together."
Eddie stares at him. "Are you being serious? You'd want to...go out with me?"
"Well, yeah."
"Why?"
Stan rolls his eyes but smiles. "C'mon. We're friends, we obviously like to spend time together. You're smart, unlike most of the idiots around here, and you're funny, even though you get loud sometimes, and you're...you know. Cute."
"You...you think I'm cute?" Eddie asks, sure he'd misheard him.
"Yeah." Stan blushes, actually blushes, and Eddie feels a weird rush of sympathy for him. "You're really cute, Eddie."
"Oh." Eddie feels like someone just shoved him into a warm bath. It's shocking, but strangely pleasant. "That's kind of weird."
"Weird?" Stan's mouth flattens.
"Kinda. I was thinking earlier that you were, um. Are. Really cute too. Handsome, actually."
Stan's features soften, and Eddie fights the urge to look at his lips. Richie is definitely the main character in Eddie's fantasies, but it's not like Stan isn't attractive as well; Eddie's noticed his adorably curly hair, his sharp cheekbones, and knowing smile.
"You really think so?" Stan asks softly, and blushes when Eddie takes his hand in his.
"Yeah," he whispers, and inhales sharply when Stan squeezes his hand.
Stan's his friend, but he's also more graceful than Richie is, and he's cunning and sarcastic rather than goofy and dramatic.
Maybe it was time to let his crush on Richie go. It was hopeless, after all; the boy was painfully straight. And here was Stan - intelligent, funny, attractive Stan - and he's here, actually holding Eddie's hand.
This could work.
"Okay," Stan says, and squeezes Eddie's hand again. "So... boyfriends?"
"Boyfriends," Eddie agrees.
It's not like Richie would care anyway.