Pennywise is dead. In a physical sense, at least. Mentally, he's still there, haunting the Losers' dreams and emotionally crippling them.
Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier is, surprisingly, the first to crack under the suffocating pressure that the afterma...
The Losers were gathered together in Bill's house. They were sleeping over.
It had been mere hours since the horrific battle with the demon clown that had been terrorizing Derry for hundreds of years and none of them felt like sleeping alone tonight.
In fact, none of them felt like sleeping at all.
The silence in the room was like a warm, wet blanket, stifling the breathing of the Losers.
Finally, Richie broke the silence.
Of course it would be Trashmouth to break the silence.
"Well why the hell are we just sitting here like a bunch of bumps on a log?" He looked around at each member of the Losers Club individually. "Huh? I mean, we killed the damn thing. We should be happy. Celebrating."
Everyone fixed the dark haired boy with dazed looks.
Feeling a mild panic attack coming on, Eddie reached for his inhaler before remembering that his medications were, in fact, placebos ordered by his overbearing mother.
He frowned, pulling his hand away and refusing to use it unless he absolutely had to.
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Nobody responded to Richie, just stared at him glumly or averted their eyes, seeming to find a sudden interest in the ground, or in their shoes.
"Beep beep, Richie..." Stan murmured.
The motormouth of a boy sighed dejectedly.
"Fine." He muttered. "Be like that, if you want... I'm going to sleep."
And with that, Richie Tozier rolled over in his sleeping bag and promptly fell asleep.
The rest of the boys slowly drifted off to sleep as well, succumbing to the pure exhaustion from facing Pennywise in the sewers.
All of the boys, that is, except for Eddie Kaspbrak.
Eddie was sitting stone still, staring cautiously around the room. He turned on the lantern next to him and lay down, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to sleep.
He felt guilty. Guilty for leaving his mother, guilty for wanting to leave Bill with the killer clown, and guilty for not being strong enough.
A sigh escaped his lips.
He felt disgusting too.
Eddie sat up again and grabbed the lantern, making his way to the bathroom.
He hadn't showered since the battle in the sewers, and there were probably germs all over him.
Shit and piss. Millions of gallons of Derry pee.
He shuddered.
Once Eddie made it to the bathroom, he turned on the light and made sure to lock the door.
He turned on the shower and stripped quickly.
Before the young germaphobe stepped into the shower, he stared at himself in the mirror.
He was so skinny. So... frail. Useless.
Whatever.
He stepped into the shower.
Memories flooded his mind.
"Hot enough for ya up there, is it? This is a little inconvenient, Eddie. Just hold on while I make a few adjustments! Here I am, wheezie! Hey, you're gonna like it down here! Won't do any good to run, girly boy! See you in your dreams! Oh, come back anytime! Bring your friends!"
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Eddie shook his head frantically, trying to forget.
Trying to forget his horrifying experience with It. Just him and the clown. Alone. In a shower. In school.
A shower somewhat similar to this one.
Eddie began hyperventilating, the warm water suddenly too hot, and the relaxing steam suddenly too smothering. It reminded him all too well of the shower in which Pennywise burst through the tiles to mock him and terrify him, clearly basking in his horror.
Fear. He felt pure, raw fear as the clown's raspy giggling rang in his ears. A distant memory from not too long ago.
"Shit!" He dropped the soap in his hand and cringed as it smacked into the tiles of the shower, imagining all the germs that could be accumulating on the now dirtied bar of soap.
His breathing quickened. He had to get out of here.
Eddie turned off the shower quickly and stumbled out into the cool air of the bathroom, snatching a towel and drying himself off.
As he sat in the corner of the bathroom, shaking, he buried his face in his hands and cried softly.
He was always the crybaby of the group.
The weakest.
Girly boy.
"Oh, grow up you big baby... It's dead..." Eddie mumbled to himself and then he stood up, dried himself, and dressed into his pajamas before flicking off the light and stepping into the hallways, making his way back to Bill's room.
Girly boy.
What the hell did that even mean?
Frustrated, Eddie dropped down to his pile of blankets and burrowed in them, resting his head on his pillow.
Girly boy.
No matter how hard he tried, Eddie couldn't get Pennywise's taunting words out of his head.
Girly boy.
He was exhausted. The epitome of tiredness.
Dark circles had already begun to form under his eyes from the long nights leading up to the battle with Pennywise.
Now they had become more sunken and purple, looking like dark bruises on his skin that became paler and paler as the days passed.
