so this fic is a sad one, but please READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. It has themes relating to cancer and death, big ones, so if that upsets you or could possibly be a trigger, please read at your own risk.
also ive been very fortunate to never experience someone that has cancer close to me, but i have dealt with death close to me. so i apologize if its off or not right, let me know if it is so i can fix it
i did a bit of research so i hope that was enough
love u all also this is based off the mcr song
i hope u cry
summary: richie has cancer
pairing: richie and eddie
Richie knew something was wrong. He woke up every day this week with a headache, which usually got to be unbearable to the point where it made him feel sick. He had thrown up multiple times and he knew he had to get to the hospital. Richie approached the tall building on his bike, feeling his stomach becoming sour. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s not just sick.
He approached the desk at the front of the room, practically falling against it. Richie was sweating and he could feel his energy draining. “I need… I need to see a doctor… It’s… It’s an emergency..” He barely managed to slur out. The room started to spin and his stomach cramped into knots. The nurse managed to catch the boy before he hit the floor, picking him up and taking him to an ER doctor. As soon as Richie’s head hit the gurney, he was out cold.
Richie awoke with a start, breathing in sharply and sitting up quickly. His arm stung lightly and he realized he had tugged the IV poked into his arm. The room he was in was white all over, baby blue curtains surrounded the room and shielded him from seeing what was beyond them. A doctor pushed aside the paper curtain, holding a metal clipboard. The doctor looked up and saw Richie was awake, offering him a kind smile.
“Hello, Mr. Tozier, is it?”
Richie nodded slowly, a dull throbbing in his head.
“We did a couple tests while you were out and… We seem to have some terrible news,” The doctor spoke slowly, solemnly. Richie could tell he wasn’t faking it, the guy was genuinely upset. A sigh left his lips as he made eye contact with Richie, sitting down in a chair opposite him. “Richie, I’m sorry, you have leukemia.”
Richie couldn’t process what was happening anymore. The doctor’s lips were moving, presumably explaining his condition, but he couldn’t hear anything. The world around him blurred. He was crying.His hands were shaking, reaching up to cover his face. His glasses weren’t there anymore, he didn’t know where they went. His entire body was trembling violently with sobs. He was going to die and he knew it. There was no way to pay for the treatment, nor did his parents even care regardless, even if his condition was terminal. It was bound to be and Richie couldn’t do anything to save himself.
The doctor wrote a small note and laid it on the bedside table, leaving Richie alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there in a ball, crying. It could’ve been half an hour, or maybe even two hours. Richie didn’t know. He felt numb as he sat there, his cheeks stained with tears. He grabbed his glasses from off the blanket where they had fallen off. Reaching over, he grabbed the small note that the doctor had left there prior to him leaving. ‘I know your home and financial situation (as I used to be friends with your mother) and I’ll pay for as many chemo treatments as I can for you’ it read, signed ‘Doctor Bryson.’
Richie was thankful, truly he was. He sat there with the note in his shaky hands, debating internally on one subject. Do I tell the losers?
He eventually settled on a no. Richie wasn’t going to subject his friends to that kind of turmoil. He could handle it alone, he always did anyway. It’s what he did best, ever since he was 9 years old. He crumpled up the note, letting out a sharp breath. It really hit him then, in that moment, that he was going to die.
Richie was acting weird as of late. Everyone in the Loser’s club had acknowledged it, some more than others. Beverly noticed first, though. Bev always picked up on changes in her friends before anyone else’s. It was her secret talent, you could say.
Richie came in one day pale and frail looking. He had been for the past week. Beverly glanced at him, wondering what was wrong. Maybe he was really sick. She decided, sliding into the seat next to him. “Hey, Rich, are you feeling alright?” She asked, leaning forward on the table and resting her head in her hand.
Richie nodded his curls bouncing from the motion. “Yeah, just sick.” He said confidently, giving her a smile.
Beverly didn’t buy it, narrowing her eyes to study him. “What going on, really?” She questioned, sitting up.
Richie shook his head, leaning back in the hard plastic chair. “Nothing. My lack of dick is making me sick.” He chuckled, glancing over at his best friend (and possible crush) Eddie Kaspbrak. “Hey, Eds!” He sang, dragging out the ‘s’ sound.
“Don’t call me that!” Eddie yelled from across the room.
Mike was the second to notice something was up with the Trashmouth. During one of their weekly movie night sleepovers, he noticed Richie had missed out on at least two dick joke opportunities. That never happened, ever, especially with Richie Tozier. That kid never lets a joke that could be made go by unsaid. It was odd, watching Richie stare off into space for minutes at a time before he snapped himself back into reality.
Mike didn’t say anything as he watched Richie lull off again, his brown eyes seemingly clouding over. Something was wrong.
He watched for a few more moments when Richie finally snapped back into reality. Richie shook his head a bit as if trying to get whatever was bothering him off of him. He settled back into the couch, his eyes trained on the television screen. Mike made a mental note of this behavior before doing the same as Richie.
Bill, Stan, Ben, and Eddie all noticed when Richie didn’t come to school for a week. He never missed school, even when he had the stomach flu. He puked on the history teacher when they were kids, but even so, he came to school with that sickness. No one knew where he was. The Loser’s went to the office to ask and they said no one had called or given an explanation to his whereabouts that week. All of them were confused and Bill even tried to go to Richie’s house but no one answered the door.
Richie came back to school the next week, even more, sick looking than he had the previous weeks. A black beanie atop his head, he still strode in with his usual confidence even if he didn’t look the part. Eddie practically pounced on him when he walked through the double doors that Monday. “Where were you?” He demanded, hitting Richie in the arm in an attempt to show his ‘anger.’
Richie chuckled. “I was sick. I was throwing up and everything, it was really gross. But I’m sure you’d love to hear every last detail about it, huh?”
Eddie made a face of disgust, nearly gagging at the thought of throw up. “I’m good.” He said, turning off the alarm on his watch that started to go off. He had abandoned his fanny pack years ago after he found out his mother had been making him take placebos ever since he was a kid. His mother had a serious case of Munchausen by proxy that he hoped would die down now that he had realized. Regardless of this, Eddie still hated germs. It was embedded in him since he was a child and he didn’t think it was ever going to change.
Eddie finally noticed the dark gray beanie sitting atop Richie’s head. This was odd. He never wore hats, he said it ‘fucked up his perfect hair.’
“What’s with the hat, Tozier?” Eddie asked, getting on his tiptoes to remove the beanie to inspect it closer. Richie flinched, taking two small steps backward. The smaller boy furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion, silently asking what was wrong.
“You don’t wanna see my hair, toots, trust me.” Richie joked, seemingly regaining whatever it was he had lost a few seconds prior. “It is terrible.” He added, faking a Spanish accent on the last word.
Eddie scoffed. “Okay, whatever.” He blew it off, watching Richie walk up to Stan and start to annoy him as per usual. But Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.
“Eddie, is there something wrong?” Beverly asked, hoisting herself onto the hood of Richie’s beat-up car. They were waiting for him to come back from the gas station’s convenience store with snacks. Eddie glanced up at her, staring at her expression for a little before shaking his head slowly. “What’s up?” She responded, taking a long drag from the cigarette between her lips.
“I think something’s wrong with Richie.” He admitted, rubbing his arm gently.
Beverly hopped off the hood, instead leaning against it. “Me too. I noticed it a week or so ago, but I thought he was just sick.”
Eddie shrugged. “It’s making me nervous. I mean, since when did Richie wear hats?”
“He doesn’t,” Beverly stated, throwing the butt of the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it with her boot. Richie approached them with a plastic bag filled with chips and soda, holding it up triumphantly.
“Richie once again is the hero.” He smiled, setting the bag on the car’s hood. Beverly reached in, grabbing the sleeve of licorice and eating one.
Eddie watched Richie glance at his beat-up shoes and grimace, before looking up with a smile. “C’mon, Eds, I got your favorite. You know you love Reese’s.” Richie teased, throwing the small package at Eddie. It hit his chest and fell to the ground, Eddie not even bothering to attempt to catch it. “What the hell? Your arms made of spaghetti, Eddie Spaghetti?” He joked, reaching down and picking up the orange package. “Here.”
Richie placed it in Eddie’s hand, smiling a bit. Eddie gave him a smile back hoping neither of them saw his cheeks growing red.
Richie stopped showing up to school. A week turned into two weeks and two weeks turned into a month with still no sign of Richie.
Eddie approached his house slowly, knocking on the wooden door. The door creaked open, his hand still raised in the air. He dropped his hand down and slowly stepped inside, quietly praying his parents weren’t home. Music was quietly playing from upstairs mixed with the sound of running water. Eddie slowly walked up the stairs, peeking through the crack in the door. Steam filled the room, coming from the bathroom attached to Richie’s room.
Eddie felt like such a creep, but he was concerned. He glanced around the room before he noticed the water had turned off. Richie walked out of the bathroom wearing pajamas and Eddie nearly audibly gasped. Richie’s hair was missing in multiple places. He was nearly bald on the back of his head. He pushed the door open, stumbling into the room.
Richie turned on his heel. “What the fuck, Eddie? Why are you here?” He demanded, angrily.
Eddie was shocked into silence. He couldn’t process what was going through his mind. “Richie. What happened?” He asked softly, going to approach Richie. He stepped towards him, but Richie stepped backward. “Richie…”
“You need to leave,” Richie said, looking down at the floor.
“No, you need to tell me what the hell is going on!” Eddie spat. “You don’t show up to school for a month and you expect me to leave?”
Richie let out a long sigh, kicking an old shoebox across the floor. “I have leukemia, Eds. I can’t… I can barely stand anymore… I have to…” He started to chuckle, tears welling up in his eyes. “I shower sitting down, Eddie! It’s like I’m a sad 80-year-old man.”
Eddie couldn’t breathe. “W-What? Richie- You- Why didn’t you tell us? Tell me?”
Richie shook his head, sitting down on his bed. “You think I was gonna tell everyone I was dying? No way in hell.”
Eddie frowned. “You’re not dying-”
“Really?” Richie yelled, trying to stand but falling back down. “You really believe that? I can barely stand! My parents don’t give two shits! The only reason I’m not dead yet is that Dr. Bryson’s paid for two chemo treatments! This third one is the last he can pay for and after that, Eds, I’m gonna die.” His voice cracked, a tear falling down his cheek. Eddie had been Richie’s friend since they were 13 and he’d never seen him cry. He knew Richie cried he just never thought he’d see him actually cry.
“Richie, we can try and get you help.” Eddie offered.
Richie shook his head, taking off his glasses and covering his face. Eddie sat down next to him, wrapping his arm around Richie’s frame. He leaned into Eddie’s touch, tears still streaming down his face. Richie was broken and Eddie was breaking, he knew it.
Three months later, every Loser sat in the waiting room. Every Loser except Eddie, who they wanted to let say goodbye to Richie alone. They knew of their special bond. Eddie sat on a chair next to Richie’s hospital bed, holding his frail hand in his own. Eddie was on the verge of tears and his breaths were shaky.
Richie wasn’t breathing very well, but he still tried his best to talk to everyone who visited him, even his parents. The doctor informed him he had just about two months left and that was three months ago. Richie had pushed through an extra month but he lost his fight.
“I can’t believe I killed a… fucking clown and… cancer beat me…” He chuckled, starting to cough. Eddie let out a laugh, a tear falling down his face and landing on their intertwined hands.
“Eds…” Richie gasped, squeezing Eddie’s hand as tight as he could. “I want you… I want you to know… that… that… I love… love you… Eddie…”
As he finished his thought, Richie’s head fell back onto the pillow. Eddie sat up quickly. “Richie? Richie!” He tried to shake him but he wasn’t waking up. The monitor was beeping wildly. “Rich! Richie!” The beeping stopped and it was replaced by a constant whine. “Richie…” He sobbed, hot tears rolling down his red cheeks. He squeezed Richie’s still warm hand, bringing it up to his lips shakily, kissing it lightly.
“Richie…” Eddie whispered, his voice cracking halfway through.
A doctor walked him out of the room, giving his condolences. Eddie walked out into the waiting room, all of the Loser’s standing upon his entry. “He’s..” He started, but in that moment it really hit Eddie that his best friend, his best friend that he loved, was truly gone. He started to sob again, falling to the tile floor. He curled up into a ball, feeling his friends surround him. Bill even wrapped his arms around Eddie tightly as he cried. Not one Loser’s eye was dry. Everyone in that room loved Richard Tozier, no matter how annoying he could get sometimes. In that instant, all of their world’s came crashing down. The Loser’s would never- could never- truly be the Losers without Richie.
“He’s gone…” Eddie cried, his eyes burning from tears. “Richie… He… I didn’t tell him.. I didn’t tell him I… I loved him back! I loved him back! I didn’t tell him!” Eddie became erratic, thrashing to get out of their arms. “I have to tell him I love him!”
“Eddie-” Bill grabbed him, holding him in place.
“Bill, I have to tell him! I love him! Bill, I love him! I didn’t say it back, I have to tell him!” Eddie was shaking violently, trying to escape Bill’s grasp. He was crying too.
“Eddie… Eddie, he’s gone… Please…” Bill was trying to get him to calm down but it wasn’t working.
Eddie Kaspbrak was officially broken.
did you cry? cause i did
i hope you guys enjoyed, thank you so much for reading
PSA: i love richie and this hurt me a lot
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