𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 / 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ᴅᴏꜱ

Nightmares are the new normal for the Losers, along with a heightened sense of wrongness in the people around them, and a keen eye for sudden movement and sharp ears for strange sounds. It's a recipe for paranoia- and they've all suffered their fair share.

Eddie's nightmares are his biggest problem, and they vary. He dreams of Pennywise and the putrid stench of it's breath, so close to tearing into his skin, filling up his nostrils and choking him. Sometimes he dreams of the leper, of falling through the ceiling and breaking his arm, the projector and Pennywise leaping impossibly out of the slides, the monstrous woman with her teeth drawing blood from Stan's skin, Henry Bowers' blood-stained smile, Mike's screams, Bill's eyes as the clown held him by the throat-

Eddie thrashes in his bed, shouting in the dark room as images of blood and death and rot linger from his dreams. They fade when he blinks his eyes open and he recognizes where he is, but his heart takes a longer time to stop racing, and his hands won't stop shaking. Though he can't recall what he dreamed of exactly, he knows it must have been really bad if he woke up shouting. He wishes he can stay in bed and huddle under the blankets, but it's Saturday, which means chores and grocery shopping, running errands for his mom, and meeting with his new tutor.

It takes all morning for Eddie to feel okay and stop jumping at every unexpected sound. He sweeps, dusts, and disinfects his room, strips the pale blue blankets and sheets from his bed to wash, and throws open his window to air out the non-existent stench. Downstairs, Eddie does the same in the kitchen, but mops the floor and only dusts the living room, seeing as his mom is in there, in her usual spot. Outside he mows the grass, sweeps the front and back porch, and mindlessly rakes all leaves and debris, flinching when some pests fly out at him.

Throughout his busy morning his dreams have taken a backseat to his worrying thoughts over school, and by the time his tutor knocks on the front door he's showered and eager to get going on his homework.

Eddie's tutor introduces himself as Sam Ellis, a student from the University a couple towns away. Sam tells him he is twenty-four, a psychology major focusing on substance abuse with a minor in English literature, and likes to tutor on the side for a little extra cash. Eddie's mother takes to him instantly, praising his manners and insisting that Eddie used to be just as polite as he is, until he hit puberty and high school and both made him crazy. Eddie ignores her mostly, observing his tutor and thinking that Sam holds an odd resemblance to Richie. He's got the same dark, messy hair, glasses with thick lenses, and he's tall and slim- like Richie. But where Richie is bony and barely closing in on six-feet, Sam is thicker and has passed that mark.

They start his homework up in his room and Eddie finds Sam to be awkward, like maybe he was oblivious and shy as a kid and never quite left his quirks behind. He holds eye contact too long, stares at Eddie as he's writing out sentences, and sits a little too closely where they are working at Eddie's desk. Some people are just weird, Eddie thinks. At least he's not an asshole so far.

"Do you understand the conclusion?" Sam asks him as Eddie puts his homework away in an evenly stacked pile on the corner of his desk. He is soft-spoken and unintimidating, a little spacey, but he seems harmless enough.

Eddie nods and smiles. "Yeah, I get it now. It was just a mess of words before."

Sam's smile is slow and seems a little forced, but his voice is kind as he says, "It takes a while to stop seeing a story as just a story." He gets up and follows Eddie out of his room, and when Eddie opens the front door to let him out, adds, "There's always some hidden, or not so hidden, message."

They agree to meet Thursdays at five in the evening and Eddie's Saturday winds down, uneventful. Richie calls him sometime around seven, asking if he wants to see a movie, but Eddie declines and locks himself in his bedroom.