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vingt-deux

Notes: I am no Stephen King. Have mercy

The turtle.

Richie and Eddie both have the exact same dream. They dream of a hazy vision, images of meteors and planets and stars phasing in and out of reality. And the turtle.

The mysterious turtle in their dream floats through space. It's huge, bigger than anything they've ever seen before. Bigger than the earth, than the universe, than everything. It stays in its shell most of the time, sleeping soundly. On occasion it will emerge. The turtle's stomach ached one day, and it stuck its head out of its shell to vomit the universe out- the universe where the Losers reside.

The visions are like some sort of drug-induced fever dream. The turtle passes overhead as both boys stand in space, looking up at it. Somehow, they realize that the turtle is merely a spectator, watching the ongoing battle in Derry. This goes beyond their little town.

Richie and Eddie both wake up at the exact same moment, breathing heavily, confused. What the hell had the dream meant? Who was the turtle?

The Losers Club meets up at the library again, after it closes, to discuss the tokens and their plans. Except they don't want to discuss, because Beverly Marsh brings a boombox from Richie's house.

As Richie walks in with Beverly, he sees Eddie sitting in the large window sill with his knees pressed to his chest, his shorts riding almost all the way up his thighs as he stares out the window. Thinking. Wearing a sweatshirt that strikes Richie as very familiar.

Richie joins him, sitting opposite of him, his legs stretching out on either side of Eddie's body. Eddie looks over at him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Richie smiles, but Eddie is frowning slightly.

"Oh, I just... it's been strange." Eddie looks back out the window. "I dreamed about a turtle last night. A turtle that puked out the-"

"-Universe." Richie finishes, nodding, and Eddie looks back at him. "I know. I guess we had the same dream."

Eddie's lips part as he tilts his head to the side slightly, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. He reaches out to touch Richie's cheek, where two band aids are stuck on. Richie places his hand over Eddie's, looking at him with starry eyes.

"What happened?" Eddie asks.

Richie lets out a small laugh. "Uh, I saw It. While I was looking for my token. I got a little scratch."

Eddie pauses. Then, he says exactly what Richie had been expecting him to say. "How'd you clean it?"

Richie drops his hand, not meeting Eddie's gaze. "Water." He answers, and in his mind's eye, he can see Eddie's eyes widen.

"If you don't clean it properly, it could be infected. Who knows where that thing's been? What if you have some crazy shit in your system now? You've got to clean it before it gets infected." Eddie says, speaking quickly as always as he lets his hand fall from Richie's face. "You'll clean it when you get home, right? With rubbing alcohol? Promise?" Eddie holds his pinkie out.

Richie shakes it, looking into Eddie's eyes. "Alright, I will."

"Good." Eddie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Then he bites his lip, his expression changing completely, from annoyed to... fearful, or something of that nature. He takes a breath, looking out the window, then back at Richie. The Rolling Stones start playing in the background, but they don't care.

Richie watches with wide eyes as Eddie Kaspbrak starts to cry.

"Oh, shit, Eds, are you okay?" Richie leans forward instantly, placing a hand on Eddie's shoulder. He's beginning to panic. What should he do?