pop || reddie

vingt

Notes: also unedited lmao

Eddie has no clue where to look.

He hasn't been in Derry for long, so he doesn't really know what a meaningful token of his time here would look like. He goes over the possibilities in his mind, where he hangs out. School, the library- which he just left- Richie's house... the barrens, even, though Eddie is hesitant to return to say the least.

He doesn't want to think about It. Because It scares the living shit out of him. Everytime someone brings It up, he feels this wave of anxiety crash into him. Eddie is able to deny Its existence just fine, and he's happy when he is (though there's still that cloud looming over him), but someone always has to bring It up. His friends are braver than he is, he guesses. Eddie doesn't think he's brave. He never has.

But sometimes, with Richie, he feels brave.

Richie, Richie, Richie. He must be obsessed. Eddie supposes his token would have something to do with that Trashmouth, but he's exhausted and ready to go home. So he does exactly that, entering his little house, kissing his mother on the cheek, heading up to his room. Eddie unpacks a box that's been laying there far too long, to take his mind off of It. His room is pretty much finished now, and Eddie lays down on his bed, exhaling. He's tired.

Though he really doesn't want to, he's thinking about It, of course. About the leper, about the mist, the pink light. Mostly about the words that had been said to him, because some of them are true, at least in his mind.

Eddie had been on the brink of self-discovery, finally feeling safe and comfortable somewhere (with Richie), feeling not judged, feeling like he could talk about his feelings and uncertainties. Yes, he had still been frightened of the discovery, and of himself. But he was facing those fears, brave with Richie, and then It had shown up and pushed all of that hard work back. He was at square one again, deeply, deeply repressed and in denial over anything negative.

You're sick of body and mind, Eddie Kaspbrak.
You can't even get off, not even by yourself.
Imagining girls never worked, did it?
You might be sicker than me.
Don't touch the other boys, Eddie. Don't or they'll know your secret.

The words cycle through Eddie's brain. He wishes he could just shut it off. He's sick and tired of thinking, thinking and thinking all day without making any progress, any breakthroughs, just letting the words wash over him. Sometimes Eddie really does get worried that his mother- and the voice- is right. That he is sick. It feels like it a lot of the time.

Eddie wants to change the subject of his thoughts, tearing them away from It. They automatically shift to the other thing constantly on his mind, that being Richie Tozier.

Eddie figures there's no harm in imagining things. So for the past few weeks, he's been imagining Richie all the time. Touching, kissing, just looking. All hazy in an orangey-pink glow, his smile as radiant as ever, his unruly curls as soft as ever, his big glasses as adorable as ever. It makes Eddie's heart swell with some emotion he can't quite place.

Eddie moves under the blankets of his bed, shivering in the cold air of his room, brought on by the winter weather. He's still chilly. Eddie wishes that Richie were here to warm him up, like he always does.

"Psst. Eds. Hey, let me in."

Eddie jumps, hearing a tapping and a whispering at his window. He smiles as he sees Richie there, perched on the roof outside his room, grinning in at him. Eddie opens the window to let him in.

"Oh, don't call me Eds. You scared the shit out of me, Richie." He chuckles lightly. Eddie scrunches up his nose. He smells Richie's normal scent- which is almost like pine, with a hint of coconut- but underneath that, there's something else, some awful stench that violates Eddie's nostrils. He figures maybe something died in the air vents and shakes his head, trying to clear it of the disgust he feels. "Found your token?"