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3rd Person POV

Not a single one of the losers had to look at a calendar to know what day it was. They could just feel it.

Feel that anxiety starting to boil over, remembering those clawed hands digging into their skin, smelling that awful mix of sewage and death.

They losers remembered all of it, clear as day, like it had happened yesterday and not five years ago. Which was why they had made the tradition of staying in and playing dumb games to distract themselves.

"All set for your house Ben?" Mike asked as the crew were sitting solemnly in the clubhouse.

Ben nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Yep, my parents are even out of town so it will be totally rad."

Stan scrunched up his face, "'totally rad'? Since when has slang been added to your vocabulary?"

"You're just jealous he's cooler than you," Richie said while hanging his head out of the hammock.

Stan just rolled his eyes and huffed.

Beverly returned from smoking, Eddie had insisted that she leave the clubhouse because his asthma was being extra sensitive. Richie had joked that it was because of all that pussy he was getting, Eddie wasn't amused.

"Sup losers?" she greeted and sat on the ladder.

Everyone shrugged aimlessly, lost in their own thoughts, but Richie groaned dramatically from the hammock.

"I'm just craving that sweet smoky taste," he whined, "oh nicotine, why did we let Eddie ever get between us?"

Eddie had convinced Richie to stop smoking after he found Richie with three in his mouth in the janitors closet and the moment Eddie stepped in there he had an asthma attack. Richie got so concerned and Eddie got so pissed off and screamed at him for about an hour on how disgusting smoking was and how it was not only killing Richie, but Eddie too.

And just like that, Richie dropped smoking. Cold turkey. Which was not a good idea and made Richie cranky all of the time.

"Boo hoo," Bev teased.

Richie glanced at Eddie. The asthmatic boy was shifting his weight and wiping his hands on his shorts every few seconds. When Eddie saw Richie staring, he glared.

"You've been sitting in there forever," he whined, "it's my turn now."

Richie scoffed, "nuh uh, you have separated me from my one true love. The least you can do it let your skinny little legs get tired as I lay in this fucking hammock with a migraine."

Eddie's jaw dropped.

"Sorry," Richie huffed, feeling bad for snapping, "fucking withdrawals."

Stan groaned from across the room, "you are so fucking dramatic Richie, just shut up and let us wallow in silence before we go an party at Ben's."

Bill raised his half empty water bottle as if to toast the idea.

Richie huffed again and glared at the wooden dusty roof. All of a sudden there was a frowning, booty short wearing, teen standing above him.

"Do you need something Eds?" Richie asked plainly, getting ready for another fight.

"Don't call me that," he glared, "it's dumb and ugly-"

"Like your mom," Richie cut off. Eddie glared harder.

Eddie moved on, "I was just going to tell you that your fly is open, dipshit, and it'd greatly appreciate it if you 'unslobbified'." Eddie raised a brow, waiting for Richie.

Richie grinned, "my wang too distracting for you Kaspbrak?" he winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed the hammock so that Richie tipped out of it and landed on the ground. Face first.

"I'll just sit here," Richie said and didn't move.

------

Woah. So get this.

I know there were a lot of ideas and suggestions for a reddie book and I know that this book is nothing like any of those suggestions (I'm not gonna kill Ben off, I promised no more death)

However, I came up with this idea before I completely zonked out in class and it took a lot of my brainpower so I'm going through with it.

Also, I have realized, I've pretty much written a book each month. So long as I finish this book close to the new year...

I might have a problem... I'm still writing my other book at the same time but fanfictions are a lot easier to write so this one will definitely be updated lots still. It's kinda hard cause my other book is so. fucking. descriptive. and like long paragraphs and actual planning and this book I kinda just rely on the personalities and dynamics Stephen King wrote into existence but with my own twist. And for some reason I decided I wasn't going to swear in my other book...like what the fuck?

Apparently the me eight months ago was 'too sophisticated' or some shit

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