Chapter Text
Life in the Denbrough-Hanlon-Hanscom-Kaspbrak-Marsh-Tozier-Uris residence was good. Well as good as it could be in their sophomore year of college. As good as it could be living off of strict budgets alongside a bunch of stressed people Richie considered to be family.
They found the house over the summer, eager to be free of expensive dorms and confined living. The house was just about as cheap as they come, but it had just about everything they needed. Their landlord was nice, and it was close to their college in Maine, far enough from Derry and closer to their freedom of adult living. The house had four bedrooms and a basement that they assigned to be a fifth. The room Richie chose was small and on the second floor, Eddie’s was next door and a mirror image of Richie’s, they were the same size and had the same placement of the window and furniture, reversed in each room. Stan’s was across the hall and a bit bigger than Richie and Eddie’s rooms, next to Stan’s room had been a bathroom that the three of them shared. Bev and Ben, as high school sweethearts decided to share the master bedroom that was on the main floor of the house, with a master bath attached. This left Bill and Mike to share the basement, it was relatively spacious with a bathroom there for them to share. The side of the room that didn’t situate their beds, was set up with a ping pong table, that they rarely used.
One of Richie’s favorite parts of the house was the back porch in which he and Bev would sit and smoke their Marlborough’s. Watching the sun set and listening to music through Richie’s opened bedroom window. Sometimes one of them were able to get their hands-on some marijuana and would smoke that instead, usually they were able to get Ben, Mike, and Bill to join them. Stan and Eddie however, outright refused, and their refusal was usually followed by a ramble train from Eddie about how their brains weren’t even developed completely yet and that the weed will kill their brain cells before living up to their potential. Richie doubted any of it was even true, but respected his decision anyway.
The kitchen was normal, linoleum was the first word that came to mind upon entering. Off of the kitchen, however, was what was meant to be the dining room. However, in the context of the Losers in college, the room had been deemed by Richie to be the ‘Loser Library’ because of how often the table had been littered with open textbooks, papers, notebooks, and general office supplies. The room even had a bookshelf fitted against the back wall of the room that housed their textbooks.
Richie loved the house, not because it had stunning eclectic features or because of its magnificent location, or whatever the reason may be that people normally loved their house, he loved it because it was home. Wherever he was with the rest of the Losers was home. They could live in a dumpster and Richie would be more than happy as long as they were all together.
They all slotted into the dynamic of each other in the house, there were rarely fights about house chores because they all kind of worked together, understanding everyone’s needs and situations. Stan was usually the one to devise the routine of Sunday morning laundry trips, driving himself and whoever else had laundry to do to their local laundromat. Eddie and Stan had trained Richie into cleaning up after himself in their shared bathroom. They all washed their dishes when they were finished with them, leaving them on a drying rack instead of dirty in the sink. And whenever the whole house needed attention Stan and Eddie rallied everyone and they all worked diligently to clean it, with only a little bit of a disruption from Richie.
Life in Derry had been hard for all of them, growing up in a homophobic town with bullies yielding knives sure had its downsides. But they all found refuge with each other, clinging to each other and becoming stronger as a unit. None of them were put off by each other’s sexual orientation, all of which were pretty diverse from the norm of society in the nineties. Richie and Bill were positive of their bisexuality, Mike and Stan have never come out and said that they were, but they acknowledged it when an attractive man or woman crossed their paths. Eddie had told them he was gay during the summer before their freshman year of college. Bev had told them she was bisexual shortly after Richie came out in their junior year of high school. Ben was the odd one out, as straight as an arrow but quick to retort and defend when someone attacked one of his friends with a slur or glare.
None of their sex lives were really exciting, except maybe Richie who would occasionally find someone to go home with at a party or flirt with someone in his class until the inevitable happened. He was surprisingly cautious when going for someone of the same gender, very much residually terrified from his childhood in Derry. Slurs and insults jabbed his way for simply walking down the hall with his arm strung around the shoulders of his friends. He was always careful to not lead the short-lived relationships anywhere, eager to leave his relationship availability wide open for the one he knew he loved.
He’s known about his love for Eddie since puberty, the way he reacted differently around him coming clear now. His need to fuck with him greater compared to the rest of his friends, begging for the individualized attention from him. Melting with each graze of his arm or phrase of encouragement or support. He was in deep for Eddie, he loved him with all of his being, but he knew Eddie didn’t feel the same.
He knew this because of the glances that Eddie flashed boys at parties or his confident flirting with said boys. He couldn’t help but envy those boys, he couldn’t help but hate the way they caught Eddie’s glance and melt to a puddle on the floor like he knew he would if he had been the one to receive it. He felt hate boil low in his stomach when they would touch him like it was nothing, when they would put a hand to the small of his back as Eddie lined up his shot for beer pong and act as if they weren’t touching a Greek God. If he could touch Eddie the way that they did with the knowledge that Eddie was interested in pursuing something, he would cherish each moment, he would take the time to make him feel like he was everything.
Though Eddie grows flirty with alcohol, his routine of singling out a guy to lead on for the evening never lead anywhere. They usually left the party separately, Eddie with the losers, and whatever lucky guy that Eddie swooned for the evening with his own group. Never exchanging phone numbers or plans for a meet-up or date in the future. This always comforted Richie, he was satisfied with the idea that none of them were good enough for Eddie. Hell, if it was up to Richie no one would be good enough for Eddie because Eddie deserved the world, and there was no one on earth that could give it to him.
Bev was the only one who knew about Richie’s feelings for Eddie, he confided with her towards the end of their junior year in High School. He told her just about everything, between how hard he had fallen for Eddie and how much time he spends counting the freckles painting his nose and cheeks. She told him back then to simply tell him, but he just couldn’t. Hell, he still can’t.
He couldn’t taint their group dynamic like that. He couldn’t share his feelings with Eddie because then he would fucking know, and everything would be different. He couldn’t share his feelings because then when Eddie said he didn’t feel the same, things would be weird, and their dynamic would be fucked. Richie would be pushed farther from Eddie and he wouldn’t be able to call him his best friend anymore. Richie’s love for Eddie hadn’t grown weaker over the years, if anything it’s grown stronger. He was quite literally head over heels for the man he’s known since they were six years old.
They were in their fifth week of fall semester in their sophomore year of college and Richie was starting to realize how fucking much he hated his Biology degree. He had somehow let himself be convinced by his parents that Pre-Med was the way to go, and repulsed the idea now that he was balls deep in his Chemistry course.
College had been hard for all of them, obviously the workload and dedication had been a shift compared to high school. However, in Richie and Bev’s books the need to destress and have fun had been increased as well. They were usually the ones to go out on the weekends and convince others to come as well. The most frequent to agree attendance had been Ben, Bill and Eddie. Stan and Mike felt that they would rather relax at home or even get a head start on the following week’s workload.
This weekend had been no different. Richie was informed of a party by a girl in his Chemistry lab who he suspects invited him with intention to pursue something, which he wasn’t at all interested in. Not only was he not interested because she was not at all his type and had only had maybe three good conversations with her, but because Eddie would be there, and he just couldn’t do that. He had relayed the information to Bev and they together convinced Bill, Ben, and Eddie to attend the party with them that night.
The party itself was a few blocks down the road so they decided it was best to walk, Richie and Bev openly smoked a joint as they walked, passing it back and forth.
“You have like four braincells left Richie you shouldn’t be fucking doing that.” Eddie said, dramatically making a big deal of their drug use.
“Oh, I have five and you fucking know it.” Richie said, taking a particularly long drag on the joint.
“Well after that joint it’s going to be four.” Eddie said. “Also, why would you smoke that and then plan to drink, you know how dangerous cross fading can be Richie? Do I have to remind you what happened last year? You could have fucking died.” Eddie referred to the night last fall when Richie had admittedly gotten way too fucked up and threw up on the front lawn of the house party they were at.
“Oh, come on, Bev is doing it too! Plus, I wasn’t going to die… it was just vomit I didn’t even pass out or anything.”
“Yeah but she knows how to pace herself! And you would have if me and Ben didn’t practically carry you home.”
“Plus, I have a whopping ten braincells left.” Bev giggled and took the joint from Richie.
“Whatever Spaghetti-Man, if you want to put me on a leash be my guest, I’ve been dying for our sex life to get kinkier anyway.” Richie said as if it meant nothing.
“Don’t fucking call me that and we don’t have a fucking sex life dumb ass. Plus, that’s fucking weird anyway.”
“What the leash, or a sex life with Richie?” Bev asked.
“Both I guess!” Eddie’s cheeks reddened in the dim lighting of the streetlights. “Are we almost there I feel like we’ve been walking forever.”
“I think it’s that one…” Ben said, pointing to a house across the street, then lead the way to the front door.
Richie tossed the butt of the joint into a storm drain as they walked to the porch. He felt almost nothing from the joint, his tolerance had grown immensely over the years and now that he was bordering the line of becoming a full on stoner he needed a lot more than half of a joint to really start considering the meaning of life and wallow in the groggy feeling of a good high.
The party seemed to have been going for long enough for a few people to get wasted. The girl that invited Richie to the party was seated on the stairs leading to the second floor of the house just in front of the front door when they entered. She had to have been five drinks in already, greeting Richie with slurred speech and an overly comfortable arm threaded through his own. He couldn’t help but feel weird about it. Having no feelings towards her in the way that she had obviously hoped and them being in such close proximity to Eddie.
He couldn’t even recall her name, she had maybe told him once at the beginning of the semester, and he’s never really had a reason to remember it until now. He’s never really flocked to her for conversation or to get her attention.
“Richieee… I’m so glad you made it…” She said, tugging on his arm.
Bev flashed him a look reading, ‘good luck with that’ before leading the way to the kitchen.
“Yeah… me too.” Richie said, awkwardly. He tried to pull his arm free of her grasp as he turned to follow Bev, Bill, Ben and Eddie deeper into the house, in search of alcohol.
“Oh my God I have been dying to hang out with you outside of class! Just dying…” The girl said, still holding Richie’s arm and slurring her speech loudly, leaning closer to the side of his head as she spoke.
Richie felt that not replying was the best option. The whole situation was very much annoying and inconvenient, he had been looking forward to a night of partying with those he referred to as his family but now he had a drunken girl leeching his arm.
They made it to the kitchen and the girl had made no indications that she was prepared to drop her hold on Richie.
“You have to catch up with me Richie… we have to be the same amount of drunk…” She spoke close to his ear now.
“Why is that?” Richie asked, eyebrows raised with a hint of amusement but voice relatively monotone, to indicate to his friends and hopefully her that he was uninterested.
“So that we both are drunk as fuck when we get busy later.” She said, thinking she was whispering.
Bill turned and laughed openly at the situation, Bev laughed too, and Eddie shot him a look of disgust mixed with anger.
“Busy with what? I finished my lab report already and I don’t think I’ll be much of a help writing yours…” Richie joked, embarrassed by the situation.
“No… silly you know with what… stop playing dumb.”
Richie watched as Eddie angrily poured himself a drink and left the room, Richie was immediately pissed about the situation. Eager to squash whatever ideas this girl had before he joked his way into her getting him alone.
Even if he liked her he would never pursue anything with a someone this drunk. His moral code was in check and he was super on board with the idea of consensual and sober sex.
“Listen uh… I think we both interpreted this whole… thing differently.” He motioned between them with his free hand. “I am not interested in having sex with you or anything…” He said awkwardly.
She appeared super offended and dropped his arm. Muttering something that none of them could hear before storming out of the room, and hopefully out of the party.
“That was fucking brutal to watch…” Bev said.
“Brutal but funny.” Bill commented.
“Fuck off you two…” Richie said, grateful that Ben had been there to be the silent mediator, feeling worse for Richie than amused about the situation.
Richie reached into the sink, filled with cold water and ice, to grab a beer, he opened the can and dramatically drank about half of it before taking a breath.
“Christ Richie, Eddie had a point you know. I don’t want to see puke tonight…” Bev commented.
Richie ignored her comment and left the room. He wasn’t very angry about the girl’s misinterpretation of their relationship. Second and firsthand embarrassment were two things that Richie was very familiar with and therefore he felt almost no reaction to the feelings. He was however angry at the fact that Eddie had seen the whole thing. Angry that Eddie was now angry at him or the situation. Either one sucked because now Eddie thinks that Richie has spent the semester flirting with this fucking girl and the situation couldn’t have been more different. He didn’t even know her fucking name let alone had any urge to sleep with her.
He stalked around the house, looking for familiar faces or someone to talk to. He sipped his beer more casually now, happy with the buzz that his initial swig left him with. When he arrived in the living room he was met with a sight that he wished he hadn’t stumbled into.
Eddie was seated on the love seat across the room, sipping his drink with his shoulders squared and his legs crossed, there was a guy seated next to him. The guy was fucking attractive, and it didn’t take much for Richie to know that the guy was for sure digging Eddie and vice versa. This guy was leaned close to Eddie, who held a smirk on his lips as they maintained conversation. This guy’s head bobbed closer with each word and Richie saw a blush creep over Eddie’s cheeks.
‘Just fucking kill me know…’ Richie couldn’t help but think to himself.
This guy was clean, his face was shaved without a nick in sight. His hair was more than done, it was perfect, styled securely in a neat quaff that shined in the low light of the party. His clothes were ironed, and he took the time to match them. Compared to Richie it was no question. Based on looks alone he felt that this guy won ten times over. They were about the same height, but this guy was fit, he looked as if he could probably lift a ten-year-old kid with one arm alone. Richie, though toned, sure, was nothing compared to this guy.
He was buff and sexy and well… Richie just wasn’t…
He downed the rest of his beer and retreated back to the kitchen, trying his best not to notice how captivated Eddie seemed to be by their conversation. He caught Bev’s eyes as he walked past towards the sink again. Dropping his empty can somewhere on the floor that was already littered with cups and cans. She flashed him a questioned scowl from her spot perched on the counter in front of Ben and Richie just shook his head.
All he wanted in that moment was to get completely shit faced so he could pay no mind to the happenings in the next room over. As he opened his second beer he tried his best to avoid Bev’s piercing gaze and instead searched the room for the one person who wouldn’t pick up on his mood shift. When he didn’t see him, he directed his question to the next best.
“Where’s Bill?” He asked Ben.
“Basement I think, someone recognized him and pulled him away… is everything okay?” Ben spoke slow and questioning.
“Yeah I’m great.” Richie tried his best to flash a smile before walking away to try to find the basement.
He hoped and prayed to whatever higher being that existed that the door to the basement wasn’t in the fucking living room. The last thing he needed was a visual refresher of the love of his life absolutely hitting it off with some fucking Brazilian Soccer player.
He started in what his mother might refer to as ‘the parlor’ trying the door in there and finding a closet. He then walked to the entrance of the house, and saw a line streaming down a hall, he didn’t have to try the door to understand that that was the bathroom. He tried the door next to the front door and found another closet, then finally struck gold with the door under the stairs in the foyer. He heard talking and whooping and decided that even if Bill wasn’t down here, that’s where he’d like to stay.
The distinct skunk-like stench of marijuana was like music to his fucking nostrils as he struck ground in the basement.
“Richie!” Bill cheered obviously balls deep in a good fucking high.
“Where’s the fucking weed at Big Bill!” Richie cheered back, triggering finger guns at him as if he was a cop busting the party.
“Over here come on, sit!” Bill said, shifting on the couch to make room for him to sit down.
Richie guzzled down a good amount of his beer as he walked over to sit next to him.
“Alright… so this is Corey, we had college writing two l-last semester together.” Bill smacked the shoulder of some blond kid sitting on the armchair next to him, of whom was holding a massive bong with a fresh bowl ready to go. “And these are his friends… uh David, and uh… Carter.”
The two other boys gave a nod and a wave, one of which was slumped on the floor and the other blinking desperately at his reddening eyes reclined on the chair.
“They just smoked a shit ton of weed while we were catching up.” Corey explained, acknowledging Richie’s gaze.
“Damn I wish that were me…” Richie laughed.
“And it could be, here you go man, start us off…” Corey passed the bong to Richie.
“Don’t mind if I fucking do, we’re blasting off boys!” He cheered as he pressed the bong to his lips and lit the bowl with his lighter.
He inhaled as much as he physically could, he felt his back fucking crack at how deep of a breath he took. He felt his lungs and throat burn at the sensation begging him to stop and exhale the smoke. He held it in and passed the bong to Bill before exhaling. He felt lighter almost immediately. Like his consciousness and being was becoming too big or almost out of sync with his physical body. He was thankful as fuck to this guy Corey for having the good shit.
“Holy shit…” Bill said through his exhale, resulting in a coughing fit.
Richie laughed at him as Corey took the bong from him.
“Come back to us Big Bill!” Richie yelled as he pounded his back.
Bill only laughed which caused his cough attack to become more violent.
Richie laughed and pounded on his back more and Bill slapped at his thigh. Eventually his cough attack was over, and Richie passed him his can of beer to wash it down.
“Wow…” Bill said as he handed the beer back to Richie. “That’s some good fucking weed.”
Corey laughed and nodded enthusiastically and leaned to pass the bong back to Richie. Who proceeded with the same routine, inhaling as deep as physically possible before passing the bong to Bill.
David or Carter on the reclining chair fell asleep and the other went upstairs, in the time it took for them to get through the whole bowl, which was a fucking lot of weed. Richie felt insanely high, a feeling he didn’t necessarily enjoy, but felt secure in his inability to hold onto a string of thought long enough to dwell on Eddie upstairs. He lazily guzzled the rest of his, now disgustingly warm beer, and announced that he was going upstairs for another.
“I’m… coming too…” Bill said next to him. Richie lolled his head to the side and saw that Bill, like himself was appearing to actively trying to become part of the couch.
Neither of them said anything or moved for the good part of a minute before Richie wiggled himself into an upright position. Bill next to him did the same and they stood together. Richie felt like his feet had a mind of their own as he headed towards the stairs. A thought crossed his mind about a consideration about the weed having been laced with something, but that was the extent of his thought about it.
They barreled through the door at the top of the stairs, spooking a group of girls nearby who were in line for the bathroom. They both fell into a fit of laughter at that, and the girls scoffed and rolled their eyes, in a better state of mind, Richie would have apologized for laughing or felt bad for scaring them, but right now it was the peak of comedy. They laughed so hard that Richie slung his arm around Bill for stability as they walked towards the kitchen. The way Bill lead them was through the living room, and Richie didn’t even notice when Eddie and his guy were no longer there.
They walked into the kitchen and were met with the faces of Eddie, Bev, and Ben. Ben was now seated next to Bev on the counter and Eddie was standing nearby leaning against it.
“What’s up fuckers!” Richie said, louder than he expected.
Bill laughed under his arm and slunk out of his grasp to walk to the sink, fishing a beer out if it with Richie close behind. They both struck open their cans and crashed them together dramatically before chugging until they couldn’t, Richie felt his throat and nostrils burn at the sensation but kept going anyway until he felt a hand at his elbow, tugging his arm away.
“Richie what the fuck!” Eddie yelled; his voice shrill. “What did I fucking tell you!? I told you not to fucking do this!”
Richie could barely register his words, he blinked hard and raised his eyebrows as he tried to register Eddie’s face in front of him.
“Jesus Christ, do you even know what I’m saying right now!?” Eddie yelled again, shaking Richie’s shoulders now.
“Yes…” Richie responded, nodding his head up and down.
“What were you guys even doing down there!? It’s been like an hour and a half!” Eddie said, hands waving furiously in front of him now.
“Why don’t you yell at Bill, why are you singling me out!?” Richie said, paying no mind do how slurred his speech was.
“Because I’m mad at you not Bill!”
That somehow struck a chord in Richie’s brain. Why does Eddie get to be mad at him, how is that fucking fair? Eddie goes and gets all dressed up in his adorable fucking sweater and does his hair all nice only to talk to some hot guy all night. Effectively shattering Richie’s heart all over the floor.
“Jesus, where’s your new boy toy when we need him. Why don’t you go home with him, cool off a bit, get your fucking dick wet, and come and talk to me tomorrow…” Richie said, waving his hand in front of Eddies face and drinking more of his beer.
Eddie wretched the can out of Richie’s hand and threw it into the sink before taking a furious deep breath.
“Shut the fuck up Richie!” Eddie screeched, with no hint of amusement or sarcasm that the phrase usually accompanied.
“Oh, so you can get the last fucking word!? I don’t think so pal.” Richie spat the words, he felt a pain twinge against his tongue, having bit it in his rage of slurred speech. “Go run off with your fucking dude, get back to me, tell me how big his fucking dick is and how there’s a six pack down the shaft.” He laughed hatefully along with his words; tears prickled his eyes.
“Okay Richie, that’s enough… come on.” Ben said hopping off the counter now and grabbing his arm, trying to lead him out of the room.
“Richie I fucking hate you right now!” Eddie screamed.
“I wish I could fucking say the same Eds!” Richie yelled back, laughing almost hysterically at the whole ordeal as he let himself be led out of the house by Ben.
He wretched his arm out of Ben’s firm grasp when they reached the sidewalk, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. They walked in silence for a few minutes, of which Richie was grateful for, it gave him a moment to suppress his need to cry or scream or both. The ordeal was sobering enough for Richie to realize he had been out of line and he was frustrated about it. He felt his stomach churn with anger and hatred, not for Eddie, never for Eddie, but for the situation and that fucking guy… that he didn’t even know. He didn’t have to meet the guy to understand how much fucking jealousy and envy he felt already.
He quickly realized that people’s stomachs don’t churn when their angry and realized he was going to throw up, dangerously soon. He smacked Bens arm before pointing to a nearby bush on someone’s front lawn then followed the point of his finger to his destination. In the haze of his high he tripped a bit over his feet as he walked.
He crouched and spewed his guts all over the fucking shrubbery, as his stomach wretched its contents he felt Ben’s kind hand on his back. Richie nodded as if to indicate that it was helping and spewed the rest of his vomit before standing upright and wiping his mouth on the inside of his shirt.
Tears burned down his cheeks mostly from vomiting, but also because of whatever the fuck just happened at that party, and for Richie, once he started to cry he couldn’t stop. This only frustrated him more as he roughly wiped the tears away with his finger’s, digging against the delicate skin of his under eye.
“Fuck!” Richie yelled, stomping his foot as he did so.
“It’s okay Rich…” Ben tried.
“No, it’s fucking not Ben…” Richie snapped back, a little too aggressive for his own liking, he felt immediate regret with the force of the retort.
“Why is it fucking not Richie?” Ben shot back, the cadence of his voice emphasizing the ‘fucking not’ that sent alarms off in Richie’s ears, having almost never heard Ben swear before.
Richie shook his head and scoffed at the ground, stumped with how he wanted to reply.
“Richie, why did you get so mad back there?” Ben asked, in his usual kind tone of voice.
Richie shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at the houses across the street. As if they were the most interesting thing in the world, so interesting that he didn’t hear a word that Ben had said.
“You can talk to me Richie; you know that right?” Ben said, all comforting and kind, bringing more tears to Richie’s eyes, which frustrated him more.
Richie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and tensing his shoulders.
“Richie… I—”
“I just…” Richie interrupted. He took a deep breath before admitting his confession. “I just, love…him…” He slumped into his words as they walked, a defeated sigh escaped his lips. “I love him, okay?”
“Well, I could have told you that…” An edge of amusement carried through his voice.
“Fuck you man.” Richie said, there wasn’t an ounce of negative energy in his tone.
“Sorry Richie. I just mean, I see the way you look at him and stuff. You’ve got it bad man.” Ben said, a comforting hand pressed into the back of Richie’s shoulder.
“I know and it’s fucking shitty.” Richie sighed. “I don’t know, I just can’t fucking take it when he talks to guys like, that…” Images flashed through his eyes of Eddie’s honest smile gleaming, directed towards the man, whose hand rested on Eddie’s shoulder as they spoke.
“Well you know, they never really lead to anything, he’ll probably never see that guy again.” Ben comforted.
“Yeah… I know…”
“Maybe you should finally shoot your shot man, tell him how you feel.”
“I can’t do that, you know I cant.” Richie huffed.
“Well, why not?”
“Because everything would be fucked up! Like the whole dynamic of us will be shifted and everything would be weird.”
“That’s not true at all and you know that.” Ben laughed a little. “Look at Bev and I, nothing really changed for everyone else and well Bev and I are just closer now obviously.”
“Well yeah because she loved you back. Eddie doesn’t like me like that, I don’t think he ever will if I’m being honest.”
“You don’t know that. You’re a great guy Rich… your charming and funny, and if I’m being honest, you’re a good-looking guy too.”
“Thanks haystack, means a lot coming from a hunk like you.” Richie laughed now, an honest laughter, made wobbly and weird with the tears still streaming down his face.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, shoot your shot Richie, just tell him how you feel.” Ben elbowed his arm as they walked.
“Yeah, maybe I will…” but he knew he wouldn’t.
He’d keep living his lonely life, riddled with the fear that Eddie Kaspbrak will someday say ‘no.’