eddy takeli

mike takes care of eddie at hs parties (even though eddie can totally take care of himself) and he has an arm around him at all times and introduces eddie to all of his friends and grabs him extra drinks and makes sure no one pulls him on the dance floor or anything and when the crowd gets too crazy because parties aren’t really eddie’s thing, they sit in mike’s car parked outside and have silly conversations and mike shows eddie pictures of the farm animals on his phone and eddie comes up with names for them

just one more hit - part two

TW = drug abuse, familial abuse

It started out as something that just made him feel good. When Richie took a line, he would feel elevated, every sense would be heightened. He never expected that, after being introduced to it, to be doing whatever he could just to get another gram.

“Rich, I can’t go, I gotta study.” Eddie explains, gesturing to the textbooks arranged into a semi circle on the floor of his bedroom, Ben looks up from his position on the bed, nose buried in a study binder.

“Oh, come on. We’ll be there for two hours, you always have a good time.” Richie begs, taking Eddie’s hand in his, frowning with his bottom lip jutted out.

“No. If I fail this test I’ll scream, and Stan is coming over to study too so you can’t drag him along with you again.”

“You could always ask Bev, she’s not doing anything tonight ‘cause she refused to come to our, and I quote, ‘lame ass fucking study session’. She’ll be finishing her shift at the diner soon.” Ben chips in, brushing his hair back out of his face.

“Huh,” Richie grins that cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows, “thanks, Benny. Have fun, babe.” He pulls Eddie into a hug and kisses him on the forehead, taking a second too long to lean back.

“I’ll come back later, so leave the key under the plant pot, yeah? Bye Spaghetti, see you Ben.” And then he’s gone, bolting out of the door and strutting his way to the diner.

Three hours later, Richie and Beverly are linked arm in arm, bumping hips as they walk through the doors of the house party Thomas had invited him to. They’d been practically connected at the hip since they met, even more so when they reached their last couple years of high school. They were together most of the time, and it wasn’t any different at this party.

Richie and Bev were sat in a circle with some people from Beverly’s social studies class, and the people that were in the band with Richie. Most of them barely knew each other, but when you’re high and it’s 12AM, that doesn’t matter much. They were taking swigs from liquor bottles, passing blunts and sharing secrets into the early hours of the morning.

Beverly had decided to take a swim in the pool when Thomas pulled him aside, slipping a small ziploc bag of the white powder into his hand, patting him on the back before sending him on his way.

He exclusively took it at parties, for the first couple of months. Then, he was taking it after arguments with his parents, or more so interactions with his parents in general. Eventually he was taking it every time a point of stress showed itself, which in his case, was most days a week. And he thought it was okay, for a bit.

He manages to hide it from everyone, much to his surprise. Whenever they got curious about why he would scatter off and come back, he’d play it off as needing to speak to a teacher or find something he lost.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Richard.” His father remarks, spitting in his face, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “You’re a useless little fag, and you’re not welcome here anymore.” He hits him twice, two punches i the jaw and stomach before he drops him, scoffing as Richie drops to the floor with his shoulders shaking, stumbling his way into his bedroom and shutting the door with a hard thud that Richie feels in the palms of his hands.

When he forces himself to get up, he runs into his room, stuffing a bag with clothes off of the floor, grabbing his keys and then rummaging through his drawers. The panic sets in when he can’t find it, his stash, he searches underneath his bed, behind his desk, inside his wardrobe. Nothing. So he bolts out of the door, walking so fast his legs could barely keep up with him until he’s at Thomas’ house. He knocks two, four, six times. Then again, and again until Thomas yells something and opens the door.

“What the fuck man- oh, hey Richie. You good?” Richie is tired, out of breath and panting, holding up a twenty dollar bill between his bony fingers.

“I can get you the other twenty tomorrow, but I need a gram.”

“I gave you one yesterday, Richie. I think you need to slow it down dude-”

Look, Tom,” He’s leaning against the door, pushing the bill into Tom’s chest, “I just need a gram. Please, man.” Thomas looks puzzled, but he takes the money from Richie and he digs around into his pocket, handing the taller boy another baggie. He doesn’t mention the bruise forming on his lips, or how his eyes are puffy and bloodshot. Neither of them handle emotions too well.

“You wanna come in? I’ve got a spare bed if you wanna crash.”

“Nah, got somewhere to be. Thanks, though.” He lies through his teeth, this shit eating grin, the Richie smile, that nobody can see past. He salutes, turns and walks back down the lamp lit street.

He finds himself by the quarry cliff, sat on the edge, watching as the moon reflections dance across the water all gentle and cold. If he jumped now, he’d probably sink, this heavy feeling in his body is lurking, slithering to his chest and through his bloodstream, all the way up into his brain, and weighing him down, like he has lead tied to his ankles and wrists. Richie opens the packet, lifts a bit up on the edge of his nail and then he’s feeling calmer after a minute. He moves himself to the big tree, casting a shadow over everywhere past the rock, takes off his coat and lays himself down. The last thing he thinks of before he falls asleep that night is how his boys would feel knowing he’s doing this.

“Hey R-Richie, you look tuh-tired.” Bill says, Richie almost doesn’t hear him in the loud hallway, but he shrugs, closing the his locker and walking by Bill’s side.

“Yeah, I was busy with your mom.” He cheeses, and Bill rolls his eyes, bumps shoulders with him and mumbles a 'shut up’ under his breath. By the time they’re with the group, Richie had almost forgotten about the previous weekend. He sits himself between Eddie and Stan, tapping his fingers on each of their legs, bouncing his knee up and down like an agitated kid. He can hear Mike and Ben laughing about something but his mind is wandering off, it sounds like distant voices even though the two boys are sat opposite of him.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asks, leaning in slightly and talking lower. Richie hums, nods, and smiles at him. A very fake smile, but Eddie has learned not to push him to talk. Stan takes Richie’s hand in his, a simple gesture, squeezing it every now and again to remind him that he’s here, they’re both here, that it’s okay. He knows what they’d do if they found out, but the relief that came from taking it overpowered that anxiety most of the time, and so Richie does what he does best. He pushes it to the back of his head and cracks another joke.

After school, he doesn’t go home, nor to Eddie’s, or to Stan’s, he instead makes his way to the quarry and sits there until the sky takes on a pink hue, then he wipes his eyes, stuffs his shaking hands into his pocket and wanders his way through the woods until he can’t walk anymore.

@vintagebeverly @1tozier @muruchwitch @snapsnapmyturtleback @eddiebearr @homodenbrough @billybearr @wwinterfire  @mikestanlon @wyattspookeff @hanlonmike @beep-beep-gazebos @bxxpbxxprichie idk who else to tag but if u wanna b in the tag list just lmk!! 

Take Control

Eddie Kaspbrak disappeared every Thursday for at least three hours (often an hour or so more) after the end of the school day for no apparent reason whatsoever. All that Richie knew about it was that he took his bike to get there (which came as no surprise at all) and that he never bothered explaining where he was rushing off to or why he couldn’t see him and the other losers again until later that evening. Everyone else seemed to have accepted his mysterious weekly vanishing as one of Eddie’s many quirks and Richie had almost done the same – this had been going on ever since he’d met him, after all – until he decided he’d had enough of his Thursday afternoon boredom. Not being around Eddie always seemed to make his mind itch in anticipation and he blamed that for his frequent outbursts of irrational behaviour. While Eddie was with him, though his palms were often drenched in sweat and he could sometimes hear nothing but his own rapid heartbeat, he would always at least try not to do anything completely stupid, just so he could stay on Eddie’s good side. Without him, he simply lost control.

So on one particular Thursday in autumn, whilst the other losers all agreed to meet up at the barrens after dinner and then went their separate ways (Eddie having already rushed off to wherever he so desperately needed to go), Richie rushed off as well, just after Eddie and keeping him in sight, but making sure to remain at a safe distance from him to minimise the chances of him being seen. During the next forty minutes they rode through parts of the town Richie had never ventured into before, Eddie unknowingly leading the way.

He obviously knew the areas they crossed exceedingly well, weaving in and out of traffic and hurtling around countless street corners with ease. Richie did his best to keep up but almost lost him on more than occasion, not to mention the time he was sure he would have gotten caught because the only sounds that could be heard were the whir of his bicycle wheels and the crunch of dry, crisp reddened leaves as he rode over them. But Eddie didn’t even flinch or glance behind him. Maybe he’d known he was being followed all along, or maybe he was so focused on wherever he was headed that everything else was an irrelevant blur. Richie hoped it was the latter.

Eddie eventually came to a stop on a busy street paved with cracked concrete and lined with more shops, traffic and people than Richie was used to. He stood his bike next to a run-down building with peeling white and green paint, waited for the green door to open from the inside and walked in with his bag over his shoulder defensively. The sign above the door proclaimed, “Derry’s Dance Academy” in thick cursive lettering. Richie watched from around the nearest corner, eyes filled with curiosity and wonder. He waited for a minute before propping his bike up against the wall, pressing the buzzer by the door and heading inside once the door miraculously opened for him.

What hit him first was the smell. It wasn’t unpleasant and he contemplated it carefully as he breathed it in. It was like… shoes, mainly, but with a hint of some sort of lemon-scented air freshener as well. With a loose grip on the handrail beside him, he climbed up the pink-carpeted stairs and peered through the next door he came to, which seemed to lead out into a reception area that doubled up as a dance studio. He couldn’t see Eddie anywhere, so he turned the handle and wandered inside.

Relieved as he was to find that it wasn’t exactly packed with people (dance students or otherwise) he couldn’t help feeling alarmed that he seemed to have lost track of his friend. There were a few other places he could have gotten to, though – more specifically, through the door opposite him into another studio or into one of what he guessed were the changing rooms. Ignoring the stares from the handful of dancers stretching in front of wall-long mirror to his left, he crossed the room and gazed through into the other studio, hoping to find Eddie there doing something he could probably be blackmailed for. Instead he found himself disappointed, a stone-faced dance teacher glaring back at him through the glass. He grinned at her and excused himself, turning to the boys’ changing room. It was the only other place he could be.

And yet Eddie Kaspbrak was nowhere to be seen. All he found was a couple of other boys squabbling over whose tights were the cleanest and whitest. Richie couldn’t help thinking to himself that if Eddie did in fact have an identical pair of tights, his would obviously be the cleanest and so their argument would be rendered obsolete.

There was one place he still hadn’t checked (save for the girls’ changing room, a place he didn’t expect Eddie to have snuck into), which he hadn’t known existed until the moment he stepped into the changing room. There was a short, narrow hallway leading away from where he stood and he followed it to an archway, through which he found himself behind that stone-faced teacher he’d seen before. And passed her, holding onto a bar while he stretched his left leg out in front of him, toes perfectly pointed, was Eddie Kaspbrak.

His hair had been brushed neatly – far more neatly than Richie had ever seen – and his posture had somehow improved dramatically, his back impeccably straight as he turned and placed his other hand on the wooden bar beside him, preparing to begin stretching out his leg all over again. His usual scarlet shorts and cream t-shirt had been swapped for a navy-blue shirt and a pair of black shorts which he wore over a spotless pair of bright white tights, his trainers having been exchanged for delicate-looking peach-coloured ballet slippers.

A part of Richie wanted to laugh hysterically while the majority was too awestruck to properly form an opinion, leaving him to stand there vacantly in the doorway until he was caught and confronted by the dance teacher, who demanded in a surprising English accent (Richie had assumed she was either French or American) that if he wanted to join the class, his hair would need to be tied back and he’d need to get his hands on a uniform. He took one more glance at Eddie – who still hadn’t noticed him – before replying that he just wanted to watch, at which point Eddie recognised his voice and tripped over his own feet in the middle of what had until then been a very promising pirouette.

Richie’s trance was immediately broken, and his lips curled up into a smirk as he bit back his laughter while Eddie looked up at him from the floor. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Eds,” he commented with a mischievous grin, knowing full well Eddie was about to die of embarrassment.

“Shut up, Richie. You know I hate it when you call me that,” Eddie snapped, picking himself up from the tiled floor and dusting himself off, returning to the wooden bar that lined the room.

Several other dancers had joined him in the studio by then, but Richie only saw Eddie as they lined up at the bar. His grin still plastered on his face, he took a seat on the floor in the corner of the room, crossed his legs and kept his gaze glued to Eddie. In all the years he’d known him, he’d never seen him move so gracefully or so delicately – of course Eddie’s fragility was well-known amongst anyone who’d ever met him, but this was very different. He didn’t seem nervous or afraid as he so often did, but in fact almost confident in his ability – something Richie had only ever seen in him when he was spouting out medical facts or doing first aid. It was refreshing.

He sat there in awe for the next hour, managing to miraculously bite back every insensitive comment he felt like making (the dance teacher’s cold eyes did often wander over in his direction, quickly putting a stop to anything he felt an urge to blurt out). He did, however, find himself snickering a few times whenever Eddie happened to glance at him; he just couldn’t believe that this was what his best friend had hiding from him all this time.

When the class finally came to a close, Eddie walked over to him hesitantly and he eagerly jumped up from the floor, the countless jokes he’d wanted to make about his secret dance classes suddenly vanishing from his mind, dissolving into a pool of images of the elegance and poise he’d witnessed within the last hour. “You were good,” was all he managed to say and even Eddie didn’t seem to know how to accept such a compliment, muttering a barely audible “thanks” as he headed into the changing room.

“So, what the hell are you doing here?” he started as Richie followed him through the doorway, keeping his gaze fixed on anything that wasn’t his best friend.

“Isn’t that obvious? I followed you.” Eddie scowled at him in reply before bending down to pick up his bag and beginning to get changed. He kept quiet but soon realised that Richie’s eyes were boring holes into the back of his head and he glanced up at him, finding him leaning against the wall with a dazed look on his face. He snapped at him to stop staring, instantly dragging him out of whatever daydream he’d been trapped in. “What?” Richie grinned, gaze still fixated on him. “I just can’t get over the fact that you’re actually wearing tights!”

“Except that I’m not – not anymore, idiot. I took them off.” Richie blinked in response before scanning his friend’s body with his gaze, only to find that he’d changed back into his usual clothes without him noticing. He nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, picked up Eddie’s bag for him and opening the door, asking if he was ready to leave. Eddie nodded, took the bag from him and made his way out with Richie trailing after him like a lost puppy.

Quickly catching up with the younger boy (he did have much longer legs than Eddie, after all) Richie held onto him protectively as they headed through the busy dance studio and out the door to where they had left their bikes. He didn’t like the way the other dancers were watching them, as if Eddie belonged to them and he had no place there – which, of course, they must have gotten the wrong way around because Eddie belonged to him and only him, although the rest of the losers’ club probably would have been inclined to argue with him about that.

Eddie’s bike was outside waiting for him exactly where he’d left it. Richie’s, however, was not. The two of them looked around and scanned the area but it was nowhere to be seen and after exclaiming a string of profanities which the younger boy scolded him for, Richie turned to his best friend for guidance. “What the hell am I gonna do? It’s too far to walk and I have no idea where the fuck I am! I blame you for this, Eds.”

“Me?” Eddie scoffed, climbing onto his bike and looking as if he was about to leave his friend stranded in a strange part of town (well, the whole town of Derry was strange, but this part specifically was completely unknown to Richie). “I told you when we first met never to follow me after school on Thursdays. This is your fault!”

Richie didn’t say anything but secretly wondered how it had taken him this long to finally find out where he got to once a week after school. When it looked like Eddie was about to leave, he stepped in front of his bike and grabbed the handlebars, pointing out the bus stop across the street. “Get the bus back with me? I’ll make it worth your while.” His hand grazed against the younger’s as he spoke, and Eddie flinched like he’d been touched by a personified infection. He tried not to show his disappointment but ultimately failed, Eddie catching the hurt look in his eyes and apologising immediately.

“Fine, I’ll take the bus with you. I’m not sure what you mean by “making it worth my while” but as long as you’re paying, that’ll be enough.” He hopped down from his bike and with a sheepish looking Richie in tow, wheeled it across the road to sit under the bus stop while Richie read through the timetable.

There was a bus coming in ten minutes, but all that meant to Richie was ten minutes of awkward conversation while beads of nervous sweat clung to his forehead, his palms became clammy and a single question burnt a fiery chasm in the back of his mind. His tongue crept out to wet his lower lip, his throat drying up more feverishly with every passing moment. He was close enough to Eddie to touch him and all he wanted to do was entangle his fingers in his dark, chocolate-coloured curls and breathe in his scent the way he imagined doing in his dreams every night without fail, but knowing he would be given the same look as a disease-ridden corpse kept his compulsions at bay and he shuffled ever so slightly away from him, his gaze remaining on the road ahead as pretended to look out for the number twelve bus. But really his thoughts were consumed by the boy beside him because that’s how it always was and, as far as Richie could tell, how it always would be.

He loved and cared for each of the other losers equally, but for Eddie Kaspbrak it was a different kind of love. The kind where he was in every waking thought his mind produced and in every dream, every nightmare and every reverie too. The kind where he imagined them doing things he’d never thought about doing with anyone else, like how he imagined Eddie’s lips would taste of hot cocoa and candyfloss, or how he often pictured himself sleeping next to Eddie in a bed they owned together, legs intertwined and fingers locking them in place. In his mind, the two of them were inseparable.

It was only because Eddie nudged him in the stomach with his elbow that his contemplation dispersed, the sudden roar of an engine alerting him to the fact that the bus had arrived. He paid for their tickets with a ten-dollar bill and followed Eddie to their seats, his hands finding their way onto the bike as well, both of them holding it down so it wouldn’t fall during their journey.

That question was still there, calling to him and begging to be spoken aloud. It had been there in the back of his mind for quite some time, but the sight of Eddie pirouetting across a room in tights and executing a virtually perfect arabesque had practically set it on fire.

“Eds,” he started hesitantly, the glare that he met with prompting him to correct himself. “Eddie, are you… You can answer honestly, okay? It won’t mean anything if you are but… are you gay?”

“No!” Eddie exclaimed a little too quickly, almost dropping the bike in shock. “I mean, not all male ballet dancers are gay, you know? Like the other guys in my class… they’re probably not. I don’t know.” He breathed deeply into his inhaler, the blush creeping up onto his cheeks making Richie smirk ever so slightly. “Why are you asking, anyway? Are you?”

Richie shook his head but it was his turn to blush. “I guess not. I was just… wondering, that’s all.” But he didn’t get to say what he wanted to, not if he also wanted to keep their friendship intact. So for once in his life he shut himself up, only silently adding “But I’d kiss you if you asked” and praying to every god and deity he’d ever heard of that Eddie hadn’t at some point become telepathic.

My favorite things from It (2017) in no particular order:

  • Eddie’s 2nd fanny pack
  • Beverly Bad Ass Marsh jumping off a cliff in slow motion as Ritchie Tozier shouts “what the fuck”
  • every f bomb the kids dropped
  • “Derry started as a beaver trapping camp.” “Still is! Am I right, boys?”
  • Georgie’s savage death (that shit was brutal)
  • Bill’s love and dedication to Georgie (as an older sibling that shit had me emoaf)
  • “Go blow your dad, you mullet wearing asshole!”
  • that scene w/ Beverly and her dad, am I right?
  • L O S V E R
  • actual angel Ben
  • huge Pennywise (I was SHOOK)
  • “They’re gazebos! They’re bullshit!!”
  • Henry Bowers getting fucking Rekt!!!!!!! I stan Mike Hanlon
  • Stan setting his bike on the kickstand
  • Molly Ringwald
  • NOT SCARY AT ALL / SCARY / VERY SCARY
  • “No, Richie, she wasn’t hot!”
  • Richie and the horn thing (sorry idk musical instruments that well)
  • the rock war and the immediate head injury skdfkdfka
  • The NKOTB poster
  • “I hate you”….. *grins*
  • Pennywise unfolding himself from the fridge (Shook 2.0)
  • Pennywise’s full fucking offense to Bill saying “it’s not real”
  • the bathroom scene w/ Beverly
  • Richie never shutting up about his dick
  • idk man honestly everything Eddie and Richie said
  • all the jokes about Eddie’s mom
  • Eddie standing up to his mom
  • blood oaths and gentle kisses
  • Richie Mother Fucking Tozier and his baseball bat “I’m angry at you because now I have to kill this fucking clown.” HELL FUCKING YEAH!! DAS MY BOI!!!
eddie kaspbrak is not weak.

i’m tired of seeing this stereotype floating around that eddie can’t take care of himself because of his size or whatever. eddie is not a weak, fragile, defenseless boy. he isn’t delicate, he’s not a damsel in distress, and he doesn’t need richie, or anybody else for that matter, to come “save” him.

for starters; when pennywise traps eddie and is going to eat him in the neibolt house, eddie has a broken arm and is terrified for his life. he doesn’t have anywhere to go, he’s alone, and he’s about to die. instead of accepting his death, what does eddie do with his only good arm??

that’s right!!! he slaps the shit outta pennywise!!! and look at him! he’s scared out of his mind, yet he still does everything he can to stop pennywise from killing him. even with a broken arm (which must be excruciatingly painful) and the terror of possibly being killed any second, he still has the courage to PHYSICALLY FIGHT BACK. he doesn’t need richie to protect him!! he can do it himself!!!!

another note; after richie’s speech in the sewers when he grabs a bat and swings at pennywise. when the rest of the losers are taking shots at the clownfuck and fighting him, most of them all have some kind of weapon. all except one. and who’s that?? that’s right!!! my boy eddie kaspbrak. pennywise vomits on eddie, which would be one of the only physical contacts that pennywise makes during the fight, and instead of freaking out like a hypochondriac would, you know what he did??

thats RIGHT!!! he kicked the shit out of pennywise!!! RIGHT. IN. THE. FACE. instead of picking up a weapon, eddie swings at pennywise with all of his might. sure he’s tiny and cute and pocket-sized, but that does NOT mean that eddie is a “smol weak bean who must be protected uwu” eddie is a hotheaded, brave, independent boy and we shouldn’t be erasing that!! he doesn’t need a knight in shining armor to come rescue him, he is perfectly capable of protecting and standing up for himself!!

in conclusion; stop pretending that eddie is weak or fragile, just like his mother thought, because he is far from it. eddie physically defended himself against pennywise on multiple occasions, and he isn’t afraid to fight back when needed. he may be small, but he is fierce.

eddie kaspbrak is the exact opposite of weak and i will fight anybody who says otherwise.

how eddie’s death should be filmed

i mean realistically, eddie shouldn’t die, he was too precious

BUT

in the second movie if he does die like he does in the book, with richie holding him, i don’t want their final moments together to be them as adults, i want the camera to pan past the other losers, covering eddie and richie, and when it gets back to them, they’re kids again

richie is crying and holding eddie in his arms and they see each other as kids one last time, knowing that back then was the best part of their lives.

that’s when eddie says to tell him one last joke

i think finn and jack would nail that scene and it would bring the house down, the audience would be in tears seeing eddie die as a child, especially since the child actors were what ultimatley made the film what it is today

ALSO THEY ACTUALLY TAKE EDDIE’S BODY OUT OF THE FUCKING SEWER INSTEAD OF LEAVING HIM THERE, RICHIE WOULD FUCKING FIGHT TO GIVE EDDIE A PROPER BURIAL OKAY

okay im finished

The Losers Club as things my friends have said…(pt.1)

Bill: “I would be incredibly sad if my brother died…at first.”

Richie: “My mom counted how many times I said fuck in the past week. She lost count after 343…and that was just Tuesday.”

Eddie: “I take six allergy pills a day. My doctor told me that’s not safe but does she know what it’s like to be allergic to literally fucking everything? I don’t think so.”

Beverly: “I looked at my dad this morning and had the desire to punch him in the face. Is that normal?”

Stan: “Why am I even friends with all of you? You are all literally the worst influences anyone could have. I have a near death experience every time we hang out.”

Ben: “Remember when we took home economics and I cried every time we went to class because the teacher bullied me? Not even the cookies made me better…not even the fucking cookies.”

Mike: “Guys, I fucking hate my grandpa-”

“I know, your grandpa is racist and a drunk.”

“Don’t talk shit about my grandpa!”

“BUT YOU JUST SAID-”

“I SAID WHAT I SAID!”

in the movie pennywise only appeared as an actual personal person for two people (not counting the small moment with beverly at the end)

  1. for bill, he would appear as georgie, someone who bill loved and cared for very much and clearly meant the world to him.
  2. and for richie, he appeared as eddie.

NOW take that as you will folks.

Take My Breath Away

This is for the song ‘Take My Breath Away’ by Berlin that someone mentioned to me! this is for them! 

~Eddie hunched his body forward so that his elbow rested on his bouncing knee. The tip of his thumbnail dragged lightly across his lips with anticipation. His hand shook just as he slowly lifted his eyes to catch a glimpse of the look Ben was sending Beverly’s way. Eddie had never seen such a emotional look in the eyes of a twelve year old. It was as beautiful as it was traumatizing. It stuck in Eddie’s head and he supposed the memory would live on for as long as he’d remember his friends…which he hoped would be a long time. 

What was strange to Eddie was how the events of the summer had seemed to happen in the blink of the eye, ageing him prematurely, but some things had played in slow motion. Like someone had been unhappy with the speed of their television and banged right between the antennas until the screen went all salt and pepper and cut back to the same movie but slower. And maybe it kept glitching, constantly returning to the same scene in a secret place, The Barrens. In it, Eddie would find himself thinking about Ben’s look without quite realizing he was shadowing his own version of it across the way at Richie. Knowing the kid, Richie made it into some kind of game. He’d catch Eddie and either make it a staring contest or he’d see how long it took him to get Eddie to laugh. Maybe that was why Eddie couldn’t see the seriousness in it. But he found himself anticipating these moments. But he didn’t get his hopes up because that would be ridiculous. 

It happened the first time they’d shared one of these looks alone. They were flat against the brick wall of the drug store, neither one of them talking about the horror they were still in the midst of. No, Eddie was listing off all the statistics he knew about people catching diseases off of a public telephone. He’d been expecting Richie to crack some joke about public toilets but when he turned to him, Richie was giving him the look. He’d never initiated it before, that was always up to Eddie. Being on the receiving end didn’t take long to make Eddie flustered. The inevitable happened, the embarrassing inevitable. He worked himself up in nerves and had to pull out his aspirator and blast off, so to speak. Richie turned and laughed down at the ground for a second or two, making Eddie want to just split. but when Richie turned back to him, all he said was

“That’s ok Eds, you take my breath away too.” 

Eddie couldn’t stop blushing.