THICK & THIN ✿ reddie

angel of small death.

There's a dull ache in Eddie's chest that he knows is from wearing his binder for what will be twelve hours straight in a few minutes. There was no volleyball practice this Sunday, meaning Eddie actually had to face reality instead of throwing himself into volleyball as a distraction.

Eddie absolutely refuses to acknowledge the fact that he struggles to deal with his dysphoria without Richie. He's fine without Richie; he's more than his fucked up ex. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

The silence is deafening. Eddie wonders if that's because Richie was always so loud. Fuck Richie. The asshole is probably off somewhere getting high and fucking one of the pretty, tall models that are always hanging off him in Instagram photos.

His phone buzzes, catching his attention and he easily accepts the distraction.

Bev♡: hey me and ben are going to a party tonight, wanna come? maybe some drinking and dancing will get your mind off things

Usually Eddie would decline and mope around his suffocating room feeling sorry for himself, but he agrees with Bev. Maybe he should take a page out of Richie's book and rely on a little substance abuse to fix his problems. After he replies saying he'll go, Beverly informs him to be ready within the hour.

Eddie turns to his tiny closet and rummages through his clothes. Most of his shit doesn't fit into the practically closet sized room he lives in now, but it's better than living with Richie. After they broke up he moved in with the trio, occupying their tiny guest room.

Eddie never dresses modestly when he goes to parties. As far as he's concerned, college is the perfect time to be a bit of a slut. When Eddie puts on a little more makeup than usual, picks out his shortest shorts and a sheer, tight-fitting crop top, he tells himself it's because he wants to look good—not because he wants to remind Richie what he's missing—when he meets Beverly at their apartment.

He gets an odd look from Stan when he shuffles out the door in skimpy clothing but he doesn't comment.

Eddie definitely isn't pleased when he finds Richie slumped on the couch when he enters the apartment across the hall. Richie's eyes go a bit wide when he notices Eddie's getup. Eddie simply sneers at him.

He has a joint in his left hand and for some reason it pisses Eddie off. He's not sure why. Bev smokes weed—hell, even Eddie's smoked weed plenty of times. Maybe it's the faraway look in Richie's eyes that's been there as of late or maybe it's the fact that weed's no longer the only drug Richie uses.

Eddie almost wants to scoff. He had been so naive in believing Richie when he promised he'd never take party drugs again.

"You promised! You promised that you wouldn't come home high again!" Eddie screamed.

Riche rolled his eyes as if Eddie was being the dramatic one. "Babe, it's just party drugs, you know—E and shrooms. Nothing serious."

Eddie sputters. "Nothing serious?! Richie, you can barely focus on this conversation! What's next, heroin? Meth?"

Richie laughs. "Take a chill pill, babe," he says, ignoring the seriousness of the conversation.

The clacking of Beverly's heels coming down the hall are what pulls Eddie from his thoughts. She easily notices the tension between the two of them and ushers Eddie out the door.

"We'll be home late, Rich, no parties!" she teases.

-

Eddie supposes the guy talking him up is cute. He's charming in a way that reminds him of Richie sans all the inappropriate jokes.