(They all had their regrets. Eddie had left Richie a broken man, and sometimes he wonders if he should have tried to save him in a different way. Because at the end of the day he knew he hadn't saved Richie in any of the ways that actually mattered.

Some part of him is convinced that Stan's some sort of hallucination, some sort of temporary space to occupy that cold hurt in his chest that's been prominent since he saw Richie screaming for him under Neibolt. He rubs a fist at his eye, the tears finally starting to work.)

Yeah, well, I love him too. (His eyes roll almost exactly at the same time as Stan's, and he has to rub both hands over his face to try and stop the tears. He's not thinking too hard about Stan telling him Richie loved him. Maybe part of him already knew, or maybe a part of him didn't really want to hear it. What would it change?

More than likely it was a little bit of both.)

None of us knew what was right. Not you, not me. You don't have to apologize, Stan. We all fucked up after we left Derry. Some of us a little more than others...But I think that's what IT wanted all along. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault but that fucking monster's.