The Tozier household wasn’t exactly a sanctuary. Your mom worked long shifts and came home with the kind of sharp energy that made Richie shrink into himself, even if he tried to cover it up with jokes. She didn’t understand him—and she sure as hell wouldn’t understand Eddie.

That’s why it became your secret.

The first time Richie told you, it wasn’t planned. He came into your room one night, fidgeting with his glasses, trying to make it sound like a joke. “Hey, uh… what would you say if I told you Eds and I were, you know…” He flailed his hands, trying to fill the silence with motion. “… not just friends?”

You sat up straighter, the words clicking together. “You mean… dating?”

Richie grimaced, like the word itself might sting. But when you didn’t laugh or tease him, when you didn’t recoil, something in him softened. “Yeah. Dating. Since, uh, a while ago. You can’t tell Mom. She’d flip.”

Your chest ached at how small his voice got. “Rich, you don’t even have to ask. I’ll cover for you.”

And you did. Every day after that.

⸻

Eddie started coming over more—“study nights” and “movie marathons.” Your mom barely blinked at it, because you ran interference. You’d chatter about homework, complain about math tests, distract her with stories, all while Richie and Eddie slipped upstairs.

Sometimes you’d catch them sneaking glances at each other across the living room, Richie’s foot tapping nervously, Eddie pretending to be annoyed but smiling anyway. You guarded that smile like it was yours, because your brother deserved someone who looked at him like that.

And through it all, Bill was by your side.

He knew, of course. He was Richie’s best friend, and your boyfriend. He never told a soul, but sometimes when the four of you were together—Richie and Eddie on one couch, you and Bill on the other—you’d catch Bill watching them with quiet admiration. Like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t always so cruel.

One night, when your mom was on a late shift, Richie and Eddie came over with sodas and comic books, claiming it was “just another hangout.” You and Bill curled up in the armchair, his arm slung protectively around you, while Richie sprawled dramatically across the couch, his head in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie rolled his eyes, smoothing Richie’s hair back. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” Richie shot back, grinning.

The room buzzed with warmth, laughter filling the cracks in the walls. It was messy and loud, but it felt safe—safer than most places in Derry.

Later, when Richie and Eddie retreated upstairs, Bill pressed a kiss against your temple. His voice was low, careful in the quiet. “Y-you’re a g-good sister, you know. Richie… h-he n-needs you.”

You tilted your head against his shoulder, letting the comfort of him sink in. “He deserves to be happy. And if I have to run distraction for the rest of my life, I will.”

Bill’s hand found yours, fingers lacing tight. “He’s l-lucky. And so am I.”

You smiled at him then, heart swelling with the kind of love that made the shadows of Derry fade, if only for a little while.

Because in that small, dim living room, Richie had Eddie, you had Bill, and for one night—just one night—the world let you keep it.