❝︎ 𝙈𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 . ❞︎ ━︎━︎ 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

『︎ 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝑺𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑶𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒎 』︎

ship: reddie

by honeyvenom on ao3

angst (?)

"I told you not to call me anymore, Richie. I told you I needed space."

On a quiet evening in a sleepy California town, an unexpected phone call from an ex-lover rattles Eddie.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️
heavily implied that Richie is a sadist and a murderer in this fic!!!

Eddie's just finished tucking his daughter into bed when he hears his cell phone ring.

He doesn't think anything of it at first. It's probably just Bev calling for their weekly catch-up a little earlier than usual, or the electrician calling to confirm the appointment Eddie had booked online that afternoon. Whatever it is, Eddie knows it can wait, so he takes his time stroking his daughter's hair back from her face, and making sure her stuffed bunny Sir Alonso is tucked in next to her.

Finally, Eddie steps away, keeping Penelope's night light on and keeping the door slightly ajar as he steps outside. Penelope sometimes had bad nightmares, and she needed the door open to make sure monsters weren't going to creep out from beneath her bed and snatch her in the middle of the night. Eddie could relate with those fears. The night still spooked him sometimes, even on the other side of the country to Derry.

Out in the hallway, he can hear Myra humming to herself in the kitchen as she wraps up the rest of the casserole from dinner. The air smells like fresh herbs - the rosemary, sage and thyme that Eddie had plucked from their herb garden that afternoon - and outside the sky was starting to bleed into an indigo blue at the edges.

The Kaspbraks had lived in California for almost two years now, and Eddie was still in awe at the way day turned to night. How warm the air felt. The sound of cicadas, and the smell of the orange trees in bloom. They were so different to nights in New York, or even Derry. It was like everything out here was made of a different fabric.

In his bedroom, his phone is still vibrating where it had been discarded against the bed covers earlier that evening. Buzzing angrily like a bee trapped in a jar. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed and grabs it, ready to flick it on and answer.

But for some reason Eddie pauses. Unease trickles down his spine when he looks at his phone. When he doesn't recognise the number, and realises just how long the person has been calling. Wouldn't they have hung up by now? Left a voicemail? 

Don't do it, Eddie, a small voice whispers to him. It tells him to turn the phone off and put it away. But he quickly tells himself to stop being ridiculous. He was enough of a hermit without also ignoring his phone calls. There was no reason to be this paranoid.

Before Eddie can talk himself out of it again, he answers.

"Hello?"

A wall of silence greets Eddie on the other end. He shifts, his anxiety ratcheting up a couple more levels.

"Er, hello? Is anyone there?"

In the black hole that emerges that paranoid little voice pipes up again, telling Eddie in a harried tone to hang up. To go to the kitchen and help Myra put away the leftovers. This didn't feel right. It wasn't the electrician and it definitely wasn't Bev. So hang up, Eddie, hang up right now.