“Richie,” Eddie calls, as he gets close enough for Richie to hear him. His head lifts, and he grins, shoving his glasses back up his face as he waves at Eddie with the paperback in his other hand.

“Hey, Eds!” Richie shouts. He hops to his feet and dog-ears the page in his book. Eddie barely has any warning before Richie’s sprinting at him and sweeping him off his feet, spinning him around in a circle, but Richie does that every single day — Eddie doesn’t need warning anymore, it’s just a ritual.