𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡.

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐞 & 𝐫

E

    Eddie, who had downed the entire large bottle, was starting to feel a bit sick, but mainly just lonely. He needed Richie to be back. He just needed him. Eddie layed down on his back and stared at the clock upside down, the sun hindering his vision. He'd been gone for a while. Almost too long. He started getting a bit paranoid, which was exactly what he didn't want to happen. However, it wasn't his normal type of paranoia. It was still prevalent, yes, but it was clouded by a haze of odd memories that Eddie didn't think would ever show up again. His times with the Losers. His days with his mom. All of the prescription names of medicine that he used to take, down to the exact spelling of them.

    The facts and thoughts ran through his mind countlessly as he lie there, but they didn't hurt him like they would before. They also didn't even feel like memories. They just felt like distant facts, slightly foggy. He didn't absorb or internalize them, they were just simply there. After a few minutes of pondering them, he felt them flow away like paper boats flowing away through a stream of water, undisturbed and seeming to slowly disappear, no matter how much you squinted at them to keep them in focus.

    He felt... good. It was a different type of good. Not consumed by thoughts or memories, or menial day to day tasks and stress. Just complete and utter bliss. As soon as Eddie was about to think about him, the boy of mention walked through the door.

R

    Richie was back at the cabin, the sun shining from above him as if it were looking down on him in disgust. Irrational, obviously, but it sure felt like it. It's heat was no longer subsided by the air, as the gentle breeze seemed to have retired for the day, much like Richie's previous positive outlook on life, which didn't last long as well.

    He felt like human garbage. Looking down at the golden door knob which reflected into his eyes brightly because of the luminosity of the sun, his fingers traced it. His rage and sadness was no longer keeping him completely captive, tied up to his cruel yet brutally honest words which's volume remained in the air even many minutes after they were said. The feelings were still there, but not as much as before. Another feeling which was beginning to take control was his embarrassment. He was ashamed. He'd totally freaked out on that girl, who didn't deserve it. 'She was innocent - just trying to help me. That was all she wanted to do.' he thought to himself, his subconscious now deciding to mentally abuse him even harsher after the matter was over. He knew it was true.

    This was all Richie ever did. Freak out and completely disregard people's feelings just because he didn't want to be the one visibly at fault. As much as he tried to get out of situations, he knew that he wasn't a victim deep down. He'd caused many of his accidents that happened. 'It's all my fucking fault.'. Richie inhaled, with a thought. He began to wonder what would happen if he just left Eddie. Left him in the cabin, without a word. He could disappear easily - they could live their lives without each other again, just like before. "I... need to go. I'm gonna get some help. Stay here." Richie's words from that night flashed through his mind. He slowly retracted his hand away from the door knob. The rest of the conversation came to the forefront of his mind. "What the fuck, Richie? You can't leave me here." he remembered. "You promised." No. He had to be strong. For Eddie. Richie felt a sharp pang in his chest, violently exhaling a wavering and anxious sigh. After a second, he put his hand on the doorknob, turning it with anticipation.

E

    As Richie walked in, Eddie looked at him. No, not at him, rather through him. He felt as if for the first time he truly saw Richie. He felt like he truly saw him without hesitation or any old memories and trauma fogging the once clear lens of his focus on him. Eddie, simultaneously, was not seeing Richie's outward appearance. He wasn't seeing his obviously red eyes, how pale and washed out his skin was. He wasn't seeing how his hands, which were holding the groceries, were still shaking, or his maladjusted behavior. Eddie stood up, looking at him almost as if he were an ever spinning spiral used to induce trances in hypnosis. He was enraptured by him. His feelings for him he'd tried to suppress felt as if they were shaken up in a can of soda, ready to be opened and overflowed.  All of his ink blots on his canvas felt like they were... fading, somehow. Eddie stepped even closer to him.