Eddie wanted to scream at them not to coddle him. Not to talk to him like he was a baby. He wanted to just scream, at no one at all. They were trying so hard to be calm, so reasonable and Eddie wanted to tear things apart.

Deep down, he knew Jamie felt the same. Bev, too. But he couldn't help but resent them, a little, just for a moment. He wanted to be selfish in his grief. It was his, and they were talking about headstones and funerals and doing something Richie would've wanted.

Richie would've wanted not to be fucking dead.

"Whatever," he sniffled wetly, wiping a hand miserably across his cheek. "Yeah, we can do that. There's some wood out behind the house, I think."