The ride in Velma was hardly fun, Eddie thought to himself. His eyes flickered waveringly between Richie, then the needle, then back to Richie again. "Is that needle even sterile?" He asked pointedly, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
Richie hummed for a second, before he picked it up and plunged the needle right between his two lips, sucking on it for a few moments then removing it with a dazzling smile. "Now it is."
The urge to throw up was tempting. Eddie's shoulders shook in disgust as he dry heaved, as if doing that would help. "I can't believe you... want to," Eddie grumbled to himself, his reprimands lost on the Tozier boy.
Richie sighed a long sigh, exaggeratedly standing up from the floor, slowly moving all his limbs. "You know, Heather wasn't this reluctant..." he disclosed gently, back turned to Eddie's and moving as if he were in slow motion.
Fuck it. Eddie's not sure what he's about to start, but he thinks they call it war.
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SATURDAY 6th OCTOBER, 1993 11:03 AM — Richie Tozier's house
THE FIRE ALARMS in Eddie's head went off again. His eyes shone red but not without a tinge of green. He choked on his spit, the words lost in his throat, but managed to gain the confidence back. Richie was halfway to the door, still doing his gimmicky, slow motion walk.
"Stop— I... fuck, I'm going to regret this— Richie just do it!" Eddie spits out.
Richie sprints back to the bed, grasping Eddie's forearm in his hand, making sure he got a hold of him before he backed out.
"You sure, Eds? You don't really have to." Not that Eddie could back out, not when Richie fell to his knees in front of him, vice like grip on one arm, his free hand holding the ink stained needle. The older boy barely contained glee, mouth breaking into a shocking smile, considering the unnerved fear Eddie was emoting.
"Richie," Eddie said calmly, slower than before, "if you don't hurry the fuck up, I'm going to change my mind."
Richie giggled, much like downstairs, but this time it kind of made Eddie happy too. "So," Richie started, placing his forearms across Eddie's thighs to rest his chin on, "whaddya' want Eds?"
"Firstly, for you to stop calling me that." The words were easy for Eddie to say; he'd said them a million times in his life, but his voice nearly cracked as he tried to speak again. "I—I don't know, 'Chee, just... uh, do whatever?" Bad idea, terrible idea, never give Richie complete control of a situation.
