𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 / 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ᴅɪᴇᴄɪᴏᴄʜᴏ

The elation of the kiss is completely gone.

There are bruises that will hurt for days on Eddie's hands, and he presses his fingers against them, seated at the kitchen table between Mike and Stan as Richie and Bev clean up his room. He wants to do it himself, but Richie already instructed Mike to keep him downstairs, so he knows it's useless to try and get up and help. If he does, Mike can physically lift him up and make him stay, so what's the point? Besides, he's not even sure he can look at the mess without losing it again.

Stan called the police, even though Richie told him, repeatedly, that it's not a good idea. Eddie doesn't want to deal with them, but he appreciates Stan's concern and good intentions. They are on their way, but it's been a while- nearly an hour, maybe. Stan, Mike and Bev arrived quickly after Richie called each of them, and Eddie hasn't exactly been watching the clock.

They already looked around the house, and Eddie was shocked to find the backdoor open, when he knows that he locked it. Between his paranoia and Richie, there's no possible way it would have been missed. Mike is the one who looked it over thoroughly, and he confirmed that there was no sign of force, which means Sam must have picked the lock, or maybe something else. Eddie's not sure, and he doesn't want to think about it.

He's not speaking, just listening as Stan and Mike talk about things they can do to help secure the house better, and whether or not they can get it all past Eddie's mom. It's probably impossible, but Eddie doesn't want to stay here another night without any kind of extra protection.

"We can get some boards to put in the windows," Mike says, one arm resting over the back of Eddie's chair, a comfort he needs more than he wants to admit. "I can cut them down at my house. Maybe get a deadbolt, and a chain."

"And we can put a lock on your bedroom door," Stan adds. "A stronger one. Or two, even. A bolt on the inside, and one on the outside, for when you're not home."

The police arrive, and Eddie is immediately wary when they start to question him and his answers only seem to make them raise their brows doubtfully. Richie stands beside him, one hand low on his back, as he tells them about Sam's phone calls, and the tape, and the mess of his clothing earlier in the week- he doesn't tell them about the theater, though. Judging by the looks they keep shooting him, he's sure it's not going to help anything.

"And you're sure it was this guy..." one of the officers, the shorter one, glances down at his notepad, tracing his pen over something Eddie can't see. "Sam- Sam Ellis?"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"And how do you know him?"

"He was my tutor," Eddie says, hesitantly, glancing up at Richie beside him.

"Your tutor?" The taller one asks, hands on his hips as he takes a sweeping look around the front yard.

"Yeah," Eddie replies, and he shifts a little closer to Richie, holding back the urge to take his hand. "Not for very long, maybe a month."

The two glance at each other, and Eddie is no mind-reader, but he doesn't need to be to see that there's something he said that they aren't buying. After a short pause, the shorter one says, "We'll talk to him. Do you have a phone number where we can reach him?"

After they leave, Eddie feels incredibly ignorant- what was the point of them even showing up? They barely even checked the house. Mike and Stan did a better job of checking everything. All he wants is to be left alone; to cower in solitude as he always does, curl up and forget about everything. He won't get a chance to, anyway, because he's not staying here- he'll be staying the night at Richie's, and Richie already has an overnight bag packed for him and ready to go.