pop || reddie

quinze

Notes: This is a day late I'm so sorry I completely forgot!!! I had a Thanksgiving thing

Eddie has been avoiding Richie, and it's awful.

Well, not full-on avoiding. But he feels so awkward around him, after everything that's happened... especially after the meeting with the Losers. God, Richie had looked at him like he had him all figured out. Like he knew the secret that It keeps taunting him with in his dreams. Eddie didn't like it. It scared him, so he tries to keep his distance now.

Eddie doesn't know it (for certain), but Richie does actually have him mostly figured out. All the clues add up. Richie thinks he's gay and repressed about it, and he's pretty spot on. He looks at Eddie differently now, trying to crack the code in his mind, trying to see how he can make something happen.

He really does like Eddie, or at least he thinks so, and he wants to ask him out. But Richie knows that if he were to do that now, it would ruin their whole friendship. Plus, he hates thinking about all those feelings. Why can't he just kiss and cuddle (and maybe fuck) Eddie without having to confess his emotions? Such a predicament, truly. And it's drama they don't need right now.

Besides all that, things are the same. Mike is doing his research, everyone eats lunch together and hangs out. Just not Eddie and Richie, alone.

Eddie walks up to Center Street Drug. He has to get a refill on his medicine- or, at least, that's what his mother told him. Eddie isn't sure that his medicine is doing anything. He doesn't feel any different after taking the pills. And Richie, with his ever-blunt attitude, thinks they're sugar pills, and he tells Eddie so every time the boy swallows them.

Still, he approaches the familiar counter. There's a girl sitting behind it, reading a magazine, who Eddie recognizes as Greta Bowie. Beverly had pointed her out at school. Blonde, frizzy hair and big earrings, with a torn denim jacket. She's wearing heavy eyeliner and cheap lip gloss, chewing loudly on her bubblegum. Eddie swallows nervously.

"Here for the refills, Eddie?" The pharmacist asks, standing a little farther back behind the counter.

"Yeah." Eddie confirms. The man walks away, and Eddie takes a breath, hating the awkward silence.

Greta puts her magazine down. "You know it's all bullshit, right?"

"What is?" Eddie asks, a little nervously. He hates talking to strangers, especially to a girl who seems so rude. Who apparently used to bully Beverly every day.

"Your medication. They're placebos." Greta answers, her face deadpan as she blows a large bubble, letting it pop.

"What does placebo mean?" Eddie says, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Placebo means bullshit." Greta replies, narrowing her eyes at him a little.

Eddie breaks eye contact, instead looking at the clock on the wall as he shrugs. "Um, I figured maybe. But I just... take them anyway, I guess."

"Why?" Greta says rudely, standing up and walking to the counter.

"My mom wants me to. It's easier." Eddie shrugs, intimidated.

"That's dumb. Don't be so spineless." Greta rolls her eyes, popping another bubble close to Eddie's face. He flinches back from it.

"Alright, Eddie, you're all set." Greta's father walks back out with Eddie's pills, and the girl goes back to her seat, picking her magazine up.

"Thanks." Eddie mutters, taking the bottle and walking quickly out of the store.

Eddie kneels in the alleyway by Center Street Drug, taking his pillbox out of his hoodie pocket. Eddie picks up the bottle of pills without really looking at them, his expression turning mildly horrified as he feels something moving in there.

Eddie looks down at the bottle he's holding. There's definitely something alive in there, something that isn't the medication he had gotten. He can't really see it through the orange plastic, so he hesitantly takes the cap off.

Eddie lets out a cry of fear, dropping the bottle to the ground. There are bugs, dozens of filthy beetles crawling out of the container. He scrambles back to avoid them.

The beetles scatter away, and Eddie lets out a breath. A voice floats into his ears, seemingly from the bottle.

"You're sick, you're so sick..."

"What the hell?" Eddie whispers. He looks around him, but the streets are empty. He's alone.

"You're deathly sick, Eddie. You'll never recover. You're diseased and repressed." The voice whispers, and Eddie looks at the bottle suspiciously. "You're far behind the other boys. You'll never catch up. You can't even get off, not even by yourself..."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again, his breathing irregular. He pulls out his aspirator and takes a puff, feeling his throat loosen. The hard truths of the voice hit his ears like punches. Eddie wishes It would just shut up. He doesn't want to think about what it's talking about.

"Imagining girls never worked, did it? Because you're sick of body and mind, Eddie Kaspbrak. You know what happens to boys like you in Derry, right?"

"Shut up, shut up..." Eddie whispers to himself, shutting his eyes again. If he can't see it, maybe it's not real.

"You might be sicker than me." The voice is suddenly raspy and broken, and Eddie opens his eyes to see someone standing by him, towards the closed-in side of the alleyway.

Eddie's eyes slowly move up the figure as his mouth falls open. He scrambles back, gagging.

The man's skin is rotting, and Eddie can see it falling off in places. His fingers are black and withered, and one of his nostrils had been eaten away entirely. You can see straight into the red, scabby channel. His skin is like ice, his mouth dry. He wears old, tattered pants and an old, tattered shirt, yellow puke staining the clothes. His face morphs into a sickening sort of grin, though it looks more like a grimace, and Eddie gasps, scrambling back again in horror, as part of the man's lip falls right off onto the ground.

"Hey, kid." He rasps. "I'll blow you for a quarter."

A strangled cry bubbles up in Eddie's throat as he continues to back away. "I don't have a quarter." He squeaks, watching as the man drags a rotting foot towards him.

"I'll blow you for a dime." The man says next, and Eddie shakes his head. He gags again as the figure slides a hand- one that's missing a finger- down his stained pants. It's sickening, and Eddie feels like he might really vomit.

"I-I don't have a dime, either." Eddie shoves his aspirator into his pocket, stumbling over his pillbox. He grabs that, too, tucking it away.

Suddenly, his fear-driven control snaps. He's a leper, Eddie realizes. Oh, god, he's got leprosy, if he touches me, I'll have it too!

Eddie scrambles to his feet, running as fast as he can down Center Street, away from the horrific figure behind him.

"Come back here, kid! I'll blow you for free. Come back here!"

Eddie hears the thing yelling after him. He doesn't turn around.