Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-x-

His childhood, if he thought about it, was his mother crying. It was the pressure on his chest from his father's death, his mother nosediving into depression. He answered the phone when his school called, asking why he had been absent for a week— he answered that he couldn’t get to school and they told him to ride a bike. But he didn’t have money for a bike, he only had a handful of coins.

When he did go back to school, however, he was corned by his teacher who gasped upon seeing him, her hands covering his mouth. “You look so sick, Eddie!” She cried as the kids ran out to recess. He wasn’t going to lie, he felt sick. He felt dizzy and he couldn’t stay awake. He only came to school because his mother was threatened.

His teacher sat down with him in one of the empty desks. “Eddie, what happened?”

“My dad died. And my mom is sad.” He says, his voice flat and emotionless. His teacher frowns and touches his arm.

“Is she taking care of you?”

Eddie shrugs. “I can do it myself, I let her sleep. She says she’s tired. I don’t want to make her upset.”

“Has she been feeding you? Have you had anything you eat?”

“Kinda. But we ran out of stuff. Mommy says she’ll go to the store soon.”

His principal went home with him that day, knocking on his mothers front door. His mother answered in a crumpled nightgown, her hair in tangles around her head, and dark circles beneath her eyes. She glanced down at Eddie and then up at the principal. “Wha’d he do?”

“Nothing, ma’am. I just wanted to check in on his wellbeing, yours as well. How are you?” He asks and Eddie shuffles his feet, avoiding his mother's gaze. He didn’t want to wake her up. He never wakes her up.

“Fine. Fine. Everything is fine. We’re well taken care of-“Eddie's mother reaches forward and yanks Eddie’s hand, pulling him inside. “We don’t need anything.”

“That's fine, Ms. Kaspbrak. Like I said, I just wanted to check on you. The Sheriff's office can confirm this.”

“Sheriffs office?”

“Just for a wellness check. They’re going to make sure you guys have everything you need and be on their way.”

“But we do!”

“Then it will be quick, Ms. Kaspbrak. Have a nice day, see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

-x-

He’s never seen his mother move faster than she had before. She used to take him along for grocery shopping all the time, holding his hand as they moved up and down the aisles. She was practically running. Grabbing everything that was affordable or had a coupon and throwing it in the cart. Their haul was a lot of junk food. Chips, Cookies, Eggos, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Microwave Meals. To Eddie, it was heaven seeing all of these things going home with them, and he stared with gluttony as his mother put them away in their home.

She wouldn’t look at him, and he didn’t speak to her, figuring she didn’t want to be bothered right then. But she took out a package of Oreos and dropped it in front of him— “Eat, you look too skinny.” — and ran off to her bathroom to clean up before the wellness check.

The results turned up fine, proving that Eddie Kaspbrak was living in a good home with sustainable meals and working appliances. But after they left his mother curled on the couch, devouring bags of chips, ice cream, and cookies. Crying into the empty bowls as the glow of the TV reflected in her tears.

He gained weight, eventually. Reaching a healthy weight the next year as middle school begun, and he maintained it throughout seventh grade. Then in eighth grade, his mother made a comment he never heard before, calling him chubby.

He stepped on the scale that night, dust-covered from years being shoved inside the linen closet, and weighed himself. 137.2 And that's when it became a problem. When he noticed his stomach and his cheeks, the skin under his chin. He let his fingers trace his jawline and frowned.

He went to school the next day dressed in an oversized sweater, ashamed of his body and everything he saw last night in the mirror. He couldn’t stop staring at Richie, he couldn’t before. But now, seeing his jawline, and how perfect he was, Eddie was brimming with jealousy.

He stood over the scale again the next morning, wondering how much Richie weighed. He looked in the mirror again, touching his jawline and sticking out his bottom lip, watching it move underneath his skin. He knows his height is a factor in his weight, or how weight distributes. He read it somewhere. But he couldn’t change him being short.

He stepped on the scale again. 136.8

And this was the beginning… of the silent battle through the eighth-grade year with his weight that could never get low enough, skyrocketing after he had enough of the hunger and ate everything he could lay his eyes on. All he could see was his imperfections, how fat he was, "chubby" kept repeating in his head. So much it was all he heard.

When the first day of summer arrived, he didn’t join his friends for ice cream. He went home and ran, he ran until he could no longer feel the slice of pizza he had at Ben’s house. He fainted as he stood in the bathroom afterward and his mother didn’t come to help him.

Then he ate again, so much that his stomach felt like it could burst open at any moment. He cried in his room until he fell asleep and they world ticked by as Eddie laid in his bed, hand pressed to his stomach as he dreamt of being weightless. Perfect in the eyes of others.

It’s been three days. He hasn’t eaten since.

-x-

His mouth feels dry and foamy when he finally wakes up, blinking heavily as the morning sun cracks through his blinds, rays falling horizontally across his bedroom. He pulls his warm blankets to his chin, snuggling under them, pressing his ear against his pillow and muffling the sound of his mother's car driving off to her work.

With a loud yawn, he falls into his everyday ritual. He slips out of bed, changing out of his warm pajamas and into running shorts and his shoes, throwing a discarded t-shirt over his head and stepping out into the blazing summer heat. It was one of the hottest days Maine has seen in 10 years, but the heat didn’t stop Eddie. It couldn’t. Running in the morning was apart of him if he didn’t run he didn’t lose weight that day— it was simple. But so difficult. Especially when the thoughts of cold ice cream in his freezer came to him. Ice cream that he couldn’t have.

He runs in the unbearable weather, his throat dry and his eyes pinched from the bright sun. He battles internally, always pushing himself to go around the block just one more time. One more time, you’ll look so good, you’ll lose weight.

Each time it leaves him breathless, pressed against the trunk of a tree, head buried into his hands, chest heaving. It's a routine. Just some healthy routine. To get in shape.

By the time he’s home, his legs are shaky and he feels like collapsing on the couch, but he forces himself to stand in the shower, crying as the lukewarm water washes over his body, the one he hates. He’s too exhausted to weigh himself and hide the scale again, so he doesn’t. He places a hand on his stomach and only cries more.

-x-

The first time Eddie hears his name being called from the lawn, he thinks its just a trick of his mind. Hunger does that to you sometimes. The second time Eddie hears his name, he tugs on his blinds above his bed, sending them flying upwards, giving him a view of Richie standing in his front yard. His hands are wrapped around his mouth as he hollers into the air. “Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-deeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Eddie huffs, jumping off his bed and opening his front door.

“You do know normal people would just ring the doorbell.”

Richie’s lips stretch into a smile and his eyes crinkle with happiness beneath his glasses. He walks to Eddie with his hands in his pocket, clicking his tongue. “I wanted your mom to be surprised, Ed’s! She loves surprises.” Richie leans down above Eddie’s ear. “But she loves me more.”

“Beep Beep, Richie.” Eddie scoffs as Richie pushes past him into his house.

“She’s not even here! Damn. You shoulda’ told me! Ben’s mom is next on my to-do list.” Richie winks in his direction and Eddie closes the door behind him, eyeing Richie who blows a raspberry and hangs his head back, looking at the dusty lamp above him.

“I’m bored, Spaghetti Man. Very, very bored.”

“That seems like a personal problem if you ask me.” Eddie says, following Richie into his bedroom. Richie sits down on the edge of Eddie’s bed and smirks. “You act like you’re not flattered by my presence. I know it’s bullshit— I can see it in your eyes.”

Eddie blushes and sits next to Richie.

“Quarry?” Richie suggests.

“Nah.”

“Arcade?”

“Nah.”

“How about… ice cream?”

And just like that, the mention of the word has him panicking. Gaining weight. Chubby. Chunky. Fat. He knows it is entirely unreasonable. And deep inside, he knows he can’t gain weight from an ice cream cone, but he can’t get over the fear of what if I do?

“I don’t really want to go out.” Eddie says, swinging his legs. Richie smiles. “Me neither.”

They both fall back against the bed. staring up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan that hasn’t worked since he was a child. Richie reaches an arm out and grabs one of Eddie’s comic books, holding above his face.

“X-men 134…” Richie brings it closer to his glasses, looking at the glossy artwork on the front cover. “Is this what you’ve been doing for three days, Ed’s? Spending the dog days of summer reading comics without me?”

“I had no clue you wanted to read comics with me.” Eddie says, butterflies hitting the sides of his stomach as he feels Richie move closer to him, shoulders touching, the sides of their bodies touching, legs touching. The fan is slow, and they both feel lazy, escaping one of the hottest days of summer in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie wants to curl around Richie and press their bodies together, fall asleep while Richie reads to him and strokes his hair.

It’s safe to say that Eddie is enamored. He feels his heart burst with love whenever he sees Richie, as much as he tries to hide it. He wants to kiss his perfect jawline suck on his neck. He wants Richie to wrap his hands around his waist and hold him tightly, Eddie being so light that he can pick him up. He wants to be Richie’s baby.

And laying here with him, it's all he thinks about.

Being Richie’s perfect, skinny, baby.

-x-

Richie turns on the radio sometime after noon, still returning to lay on the bed with Eddie who’s eyes are heavy with sleep. “It will begin to cool off around 3:30 today, dropping 10 degrees and a gust of wind will finally break this heat. It’s a good night for a bonfire or to go camping.”

Richie has his hands behind his head, eyes closed and little pieces of hair moving with the turn of the fan. He’s covered in pale gold and his face is dotted with millions of light brown freckles. His glasses lay on the nightstand beside him, giving salience to the appealing skin details. Eddie mindlessly places his finger over them, tracing.

Richie’s eyes open and his long eyelashes beat against his cheeks, turning his head to look at Eddie. “You’re awake. Good nap?”

“Yeah.” Eddie says, continuing to drag his fingers across Richie’s freckles seeing as the boy doesn’t protest or stop him. Richie closes his eyes again, in fact, smiling in contentment. “Nobody has ever been so captivated by my freckles.” Richie laughs.

“There's so many.”

“A freckle for every female I fuck.”

“Ugh. Richie. You ruined the moment.”

Richie lets out a long laugh and sits up, putting his glasses back on his face. “That's ma’ job Ed’s Spaged’s.” Richie turns to Eddie who stays reclined in his bed. Insecurity washes over Eddie and he feels disgusting. He doesn’t want Richie to see him like this. He probably looks fat. Like a fat, lazy, slob laying in his bed with messy hair and chubby cheeks.

“Aren’t you going to correct me? Eddddddsss?”

“I’ve given up. You enjoy it too much.”

Richie cracks a grin. “Damn right I do. It’s my favorite word. Ed’s.”

“It’s not even a word.”

“Well in the Richie Tozier Dictionary, it is.”

“Seems like an inaccurate dictionary if you ask me.”

Richie pinches Eddie's cheeks, placing his knees on both sides of his hips, pressing Eddie down as he wriggles around beneath him. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie says and Eddie groans, trying to conceal the smile that wants to shine through. “You adorable little munchkin! So cute! You need sunshine, little plant!” Richie stops pinching his cheeks, holding Eddie’s wrists before he can push Richie off.

“Let’s go see what Big Bill and the rest of the losers are doing.” Richie says, clapping Eddie’s hands together and cracking a high pitched voice. “Okay, Richie! I would love to go out in the sunshine with you and go see what everybody else is doing!”

“That doesn’t sound like me!”

“That doesn’t sound like me!”

“Get offffffff. I’ll go! Just get off me!”

“Wooo!” Richie exclaims, rolling over to the other side of the bed and putting on his converse. “Let's go Ed’s! Times’ a’ wastin’”

Chapter Text

-x-

He’s standing on the edge of the cliff looking down into the black water. He turns to Beverly. “Are we really going to do this?” He asks and Beverly pulls her sundress over her head.

“Happy summer, Eddie.” She smiles before jumping over.

Richie looks over the cliff with him. “She always does that, making us look like such pussies.”

“You would’ve realized by now Richie, that Beverly gets joy out of making us look like pussies.”

“Shut up, Ben.”

“B-B-Besides Richie, y-y-you h-haven’t e-even-n jumped i-in y-y-yet.” Richie rolls his eyes and flips Bill off before throwing off his shirt and taking Eddie’s hand.

“Jump with me.”

Mike steps behind them ruffling Eddie’s hair. “You’ll juke on him, Rich. You can’t treat the baby like that.”

“I won’t juke baby out! You’re not my baby so I juked you out last time.” Richie explains and Eddie’s heart grows warm. Richie just called me his baby, in a way. Eddie realizes how stupid he must look, frozen standing on the edge of a cliff, holding onto Richie’s hand, so he jumps.

Richie falls with him, “EDDIE WHAT THE FUCK?”, and they submerge into the cold. His vision is met with darkness and Richie’s hand is tighter around him as he feels himself sinking into the water. His head is light and his eyes widen upon realizing he feels like fainting. The cold shocks his body and now, as he stares up at the moon— gleaming down at him through rippling water, he realizes he might have taken this fast a little too far with strenuous exercise every morning and no food to give him any energy.

Then as his lungs fill up with water, he feels stupid. He’s only fasted for 96 hours. He’s pathetic. His head breaks the surface and he takes a large gulp of breath, noticing Richie’s hands on his shoulders.

“Forgot how to swim Ed’s?” He laughs it off and Eddie joins in, pretending that he didn’t have a long dizzy spell underwater.

The moon is their only source of light as they laugh and play-fight in the cool, slick water. Beverly floats on her back as the others chicken fight, Stan tickling her so that she turns over, swallowing the water and choking on it. “YOU DICK!” She yells after she stops retching on the water.

Eddie smiles as he hangs onto Mike’s neck, draped over his back. He lays his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes, slowly falling asleep watching Richie push Beverly off Ben’s shoulders. He feels okay. He feels good. And he smiles at the anticipation of what the scale will say tomorrow.

-x-

132.5lbs.

He tries not to scream for joy but he can’t help himself seeing the digital numbers flashing at him. It’s the lightest he’s been since- well he doesn’t know. Then the numbers aren’t as bright and his smile fades.

He’s 132.5lbs.

It’s not good enough.

-x-

He decides to just walk today. He’s on day 5 of his fast and he sees black spots in his vision. You need to eat soon. He knows this. But he’s not going to break his fast with cartons of ice cream, pizza, and cookies, throwing everything he’s worked for away. Hunger isn’t an excuse anymore.

So he walks 4 and a half miles, stopping when he sways in the middle of the street, then he walks back home, head pounding and heart thumping in his ears. I need to eat. I don’t feel good. I deserve to eat.

He breaks his fast with a popsicle, the only thing in his house that isn’t over 400 calories or fattening. He looks on the back of the box and reads 17 calories. He sits at the dining room table, making the most of his flavored ice on a stick until the red dye dribbles down his hand, melting slowly. Eddie licks the dye around his hand then bites the top of the popsicle and closes his eyes as his mouth fills with cherry flavoring.

When he’s done he looks at the time noting that it took him thirty minutes to eat a popsicle. He sucks on the stick then and before he throws it out he reads the faded black letters typed into the stick.

Knock Knock! Who’s there? Celery. Celery who?
Celery some lunch! I’m hungry!

He chuckles and throws the stick away.

-x-

Beverly knocks on his door while Richie screams. Eddie opens it and she grins. “I don’t know him.” Eddie laughs, stepping back and letting them in.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight? I’m recruiting all of you losers to take advantage of my empty house.”

“C’mon Ed’s! We can be little rebels, staying in an empty house.”

“Richie. Just— no. Eddie, we’re not doing anything bad. We’ll probably just order pizza and play games.” Beverly says and Richie hangs an arm around Eddie’s shoulders.

“I’m only in if we’re playing spin the bottle.”

“Of course you would be. Eddie?”

Eddie grins and leans into Richie, pressing his ear against his shoulder. “Let me go get my clothes and we can go.” He packs quickly and stares at himself in the mirror, running a hand over his stomach and arms, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and smiling when they touch.

Then he remembers what Beverly said “order pizza." He closes his eyes and holds his wrist tighter. How many calories is pizza? He thinks of the thick cheese and how when he bites into the pizza, his teeth sink into the warm cheese then the crust. He dreams about how it tastes and when he picks up the pizza and the cheese stretches between the slices, his fingers glistening with grease.

His eyes snap open and he realizes he’s crying. He looks at his hands, examining each finger, calming himself knowing he didn’t have pizza. Not yet, at least. Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he picks up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and walking into the living room where his mother was watching TV, as usual.

“Mommy?”

She looks up at him with her eyes, her head still bowed to see the TV. “Yes, Eddie?”

“Can I have a sleepover with my friends?”

“Go.”

He leaves quickly before he changes his mind and finds Bev and Richie sitting on his front porch step waiting for him. “She’s fine with it. We have to go before she changes her mind though.”

“What?! I wanted to stay.” Richie exclaims picking up his bike and straddling it.

“Is she still upset Eddie? About you blowing up on her and refusing to take those pills?”

He doesn’t tell them what she said. The Chubby Incident. They would laugh at him. “Yeah.” He sighs and kicks off the grass, the wind picking up his hair. “She barely speaks to me.”

They avoid the topic of Eddie’s mother the rest of the way, convincing Stan to join them, then Bill, Ben, and Mike. Once on Beverly’s street, she looks them all sternly in the face. “No fucking around, motherfuckers.”

Everyone nods, always nervous to Beverly’s mom voice, as Stan calls it.

Beverly’s house is the same as he remembers, quiet. There’s a small fan propped on the table in the corner and the sun shines through the broken blinds into the living room. The air smells of strong cigarettes smoke and the edge where the wall meets the ceiling is peeling.

They all drop their stuff in the living room and Bill and Stan fight over her cat as the animal wriggles in their arms. Mike and Ben lean over the coffee table going through the stacks of board games laid out and Eddie feels Richie’s arm go around his waist.

He leans into him once more, inhaling the smokey smell and closing his eyes, remembering the bliss.

They get through one game of Monopoly and a game of Spoons before the pizza comes, piping hot and deliciously smelling, sitting on the coffee table. Eddie gapes at it, and he’s thankful everybody is too focused on Spoons to realize him having a staring contest with the cheese pizza. He could easily hide the fact that he ate. But he also doesn’t want to risk being caught flushing a torn up pizza down Beverley’s toilet.
So he decides on one piece of pizza, he can take a couple bites, three. And be done. He’ll take the bites when somebody is looking at him so they can confirm he ate— and then he’ll hide the rest somewhere. He smiles at his own idea and reaches for the pizza. But the minute his fingers touch the crust he knows he’s fucked.

-x-

He curls around himself, bringing his knees to his chest, sick at the heaviness he feels in his stomach. He pushes his fist against it, pushing hard against his skin. A dull pain pulses through him and he squeezes his eyes tighter as he pokes and prods at the excess fat on his stomach.

His breathing quickens and he presses his face into his sleeping bag, the image of his expanding stomach embodied in his mind. He feels gross, disgusting, unhealthy. You idiot! Why would you do something like that? Fat ass. A tear falls out of his eyes and his lips tremble.

He falls asleep with red-rimmed eyes and a stuffy nose as his friends snore around him. He hates himself. He hates himself. He hates himself.

I’m not going to eat again.

-x-

“Ed’s?”

“Ed’sssss?”

“Hey.”

Eddie blearily opens his eyes the first thing he sees being wild curls and thick black glasses. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and the bleariness fades.

“Woah.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie says, looking around him.

“Nothing! Nothing. Everything’s okay, Eddie, just— your eyes.”

Eddie feels it before he says it, the redness and swelling hadn’t faded and his eyelashes still feel coated with salty tears. “Oh.” He says stupidly, placing a finger over his eye.

“Are you sick? What happened?” Richie asks and Eddie ignores the question, embarrassment flooding him. I must look so ugly right now. Richie is never going to like me.

“Eddie.” He says more sternly. “Tell me what happened.”

I must look so fat. I always look fat before a run.

“Everything’s fine, Rich. My eyes probably just reacted to something. You know how I am.” Eddie lies and Richie frowns.
“Yeah, I do know how you are. And I know that you don’t like to talk about your feelings and that's fine— I just worry about you.”

Eddie smiles sheepishly and Richie runs a thumb under Eddie’s eye. “Next time, come get me. Okay? I would’ve helped you through it, done whatever I needed to do to get make you feel better.”

“Thanks, Rich.”

“Promise me,” Richie says, holding up his pinky.

Eddie grins and loops his pinky finger around Richie’s. “I promise.”

“Good. Now, we’re going to the Quarry soon. So get ready.”

His heart drops and he wants to drop with it, the thought of Richie seeing all his fat in the sunlight, especially after he ate like he did last night. He’s going to look like a disgusting cow. A fat. Ugly. Disgusting. Cow.

Eddie nods and Richie gets up, running over to where the other losers are, eating the leftover pizza for breakfast. Eddie slips away into the bathroom, locking the door behind him once inside. He rips off his shirt and tears start flowing as he sees the marks on his stomach. Finger marks, nail marks, all the places he squeezed and scratched now visible. He does it again. It feels good.

To make himself hurt because of a mistake he made. He does it again, punching his stomach this time. Then again. And again. And again until his vision is blurry and his fingers hurt, he’s bending over in pain but he doesn’t care.

He sees the scale in the corner of the bathroom and he rids himself of his sweatpants too.

Don’t do it! Don’t do it!

Do it. Fat ass. Go check out how fat you’ve gotten. You were doing so well.

One foot. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, stepping on with the other. Please, please, please.

His hands form into fists and he bites his lips, feeling the hot tear as it slips down his cheek. He takes another large breath before he tilts his head down, eyes still closed.

He opens them.

-x-

Eddie runs like he never has before. Every part of him hurts and he feels like vomiting. There is sweat all over his back and his shorts are sticking to his thighs now, but he can’t stop. He wipes his hair out of his eyes once more and keeps running.

Then the sky opens up and he’s still running. He falls on his way up the porch steps, thankful for his mother's absence. He looks through all of their VHS tapes, smiling when he finds the brightly colored case showing a skinny girl on the front cover, smiling and holding a weight.
Get slim fast!

He plugs it in as the lights in his house flicker and he stands in the living room, dripping onto the floor and shaking from the cold. Rain pelts against the window and every muscle in him protests, but he has to keep going. He closes his eyes and imagines Richie picking him up, holding him on his lap, Eddie being so small and fragile against him. Eddie imagines pulling up his shirt and seeing his ribs, being the skinniest one when he jumps into the lake.

His mom giving him the love he wants, the love he needs. He wants to be a child so bad.

“Are you ready to get slim?”

Eddies eyes open and he stares at the TV. She’s beautiful. Eddie wishes his thighs were that small. He wants her arms and her thin face. He wants everything she has. He wants to be skinny.

Skin-ny. Skinny. S-k-i-n-n-y. It’s all he thinks about for an hour. ynnikS. Skinny. Skinny. Skinny.

The VHS tape pops out and it switches back to regular TV. Thunder rolls outside and he can’t feel his legs anymore.

“Hey! Do you want to lose weight fast? Do you want to be skinny?”

“I lost thirty pounds in a month and a half!”

“I lost one hundred pounds!”

“My life is so much better!”

“Everybody can’t stop talking about how much weight I lost!”

His legs give out and his back hits with the floor, his head banging against it. He can’t see.

“All you need to do is take these pills!”

He can’t hear.

He’s fainted.

 ...

“Get skinny fast!”

Chapter Text

-x-

Eddie paces in his room, head in his hands. He wants food so bad. He wants everything his kitchen has to offer.

Stop it. Stop it. Food is bad. Food is your enemy.

He stops and lies underneath the covers of his bed, maybe the weight of the covers will keep him there, safe from the food in his kitchen and the need to binge. He closes his eyes and takes a big breath. He can hear his mother in the living room and the chatter of a late night talk show.

I’m so hungry.

He closes his eyes tighter and bites his lower lip. He hasn’t weighed himself since the sleepover, and he’s not going too— not until it’s safe to do so. He’s running every day and he’s memorized the one-hour workout on the VHS. He’s currently working out how to add diet pills to his mothers prescription without her knowing, actually she probably wouldn’t care.

She hasn’t said anything about Eddie’s lack of eating, how the trashcan remains empty besides what she eats, only the little popsicle sticks when he really needs them.

Popsicles…

He craves the sugary taste of cherry and how cold it feels against his tongue, how it makes him feel emptier. His stomach growls as his head screams at him— 17 CALORIES 17 CALORIES 17 CALORIES! He starts to get up then feels a fat roll in his stomach and lays back down.

His head hurts so much and his body aches, sore from the constant morning and afternoon exercise. He’s always riding his bike with the other Losers, and all he thinks about during those times when his feet are planted against the pedals his how many calories he’s burning.

17 CALORIES FOR ONE POPSICLE

He pulls the covers over his head and falls asleep.

-x-

Eddie makes the decision to set a calorie limit because he does need to eat something. He decides on 300 calories a day, and 500 on the weekends, and 800 on the nights when he’s hanging out with his friends.

He finds an empty notebook under his bed and writes all of this down with a red marker. He writes his start weight, 137.2, his current weight, which he leaves empty to write down tomorrow morning, and a goal weight-

A goal weight.

He’s never really thought about making a goal weight or a stopping point. Then he wonders what people do once they reach their goal weight? He thinks of Richie and his beautiful arms, of Beverly and her perfect face— he touches his baby cheeks.

He thinks of the woman in the video, how enamored he is by her. The number 100 pops into his head and he likes the sound of it. One hundred pounds.

Eddie Kaspbrak. One hundred pounds.

He writes it down and draws smiley faces around it. Then writing, I want to be 100lbs before school starts.

He stares at the writing for a long time, embedding it in his brain and repeating it quietly. “I want to be one hundred pounds before school starts.

He writes down other numbers too, a countdown to his ultimate goal weight. 132, 129, 123, 115, 110, 108, 103, 100.

He turns the page.

~Rules~

1. I will not binge.
2. I will eat 300 calories on weekdays
3. I will eat 500 calories on weekends.
4. I will eat 800 calories with my friends
5. If I go over my limit I will punish myself by fasting for three days with constant exercise and isolation
6. I will not see my friends if I binged
7. I will work out every day
8. I will write down everything I eat
9. I will be skinny
10. I will change

He smiles and closes the notebook, running his finger along the pages. Hopeful for this new, beautiful, change.

-x-

Eddie spends 20 minutes sitting outside the pharmacy forging his moms signature, tongue poking between his lips. He takes a big breath, dropping his pen against the paper and staring at the signature. He tucks the pen and the paper inside of his fanny pack and heads inside, sweaty face meeting the cool air-conditioned building. He keeps his face down, looking at his shoes as he moves forward avoiding Mr. Keene’s daughters gaze from behind the counter.

“Placebo boy, innit?”

He doesn’t respond and she scoffs, calling out her dads name before returning to her magazine.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kaspbrak. Picking up? Ah, must be Wednesday!” Eddie holds out the prescription sheet and Mr. Keene picks it up.

“Weight loss pills?” He asks, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Your mother trying to lose weight?”

Eddie nods. “Yes, sir.”

The doctor studies the slip of paper eyes narrowing. “Hmm.” Eddie freezes and he crosses his fingers behind his back, feeling sweat start to glisten around his forehead. I should have done it another three times. “Well good for her. But I think I have something that will give her the results she wants faster, I’ll be right back. Greta, ring him up please.” Greta stands, dragging herself over to the cash register.

“Tryna' lose weight? Hm. I mean you could use it.”

“I-It’s not for me.” Eddie stutters, pushing off her comment even though it rings in his ears. You could use it. You could use it. You could use it.

“Oh yeah. This is for your mom. On the back of the bottle it says ‘take with regular exercise’ and I haven’t seen your mother running every morning, I see you.”

“I-“ Eddie begins and Greta smirks, cutting him off with her venomous look. “I’m not going to tell anyone.” She giggles.

“Black coffee is good. It makes you less hungry and helps with energy. Gum makes you feel like you’re eating, especially if you get different flavors. Laxatives clear out binges better than purging in my opinion. And I always knick cigarettes from my friends, it’s cool and makes you feel like your stomach isn’t tearing you from your insides.”

“Cigarettes are gross.” Eddie remarks, his voice quiet.

“Being fat is grosser.” Greta says, dropping the prescriptions in a bag.”Want me to ring up some other items?”

-x-

Take 2 pills daily at every meal with regular exercise.

He turns the pill bottle over in his hands, shaking it, and hearing the pills rattle around inside. He screws off the top, looking inside at the purple pills. He takes one— but is disappointed at the nothingness he feels. Aren’t the effects supposed to happen right away?

He tucks the bottle in his fanny pack, pulling out another box, Laxatives. They’re small and orange, little black words printed on the top. He thinks they’re too small. He tucks those away also, along with the cinnamon flavored gum.

He lays on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the fan blows back and forth in his small, messy room. He places a hand on his stomach, squeezing the fat. Then slowly moves down to his hips, when he feels the raising of bone.

He keeps his hand there, moving his hips and wiggling, feeling the bone as it shifts. He places both hands on his hips, palms digging into them. Hip bones. His hands trail up his stomach, disgusted, then rest at his side where he divulges in the ridges he feels beneath his skin. He sucks in, holding his breath and holds his ribcage.

He does this until his head hurts, then falls asleep with his hands on his hipbones.

-x-

He writes down hastily the next morning, 131.7.

He wants to be 129.7 tomorrow.

-x-

He runs double what he usually runs that day, and takes two diet pills. His strides through the house are slow and long, but he feels out of his body— like he’s sleeping, but awake. It’s a horrible feeling.

He eats pasta with his mother that night and his brain is so cloudy, he can’t stop himself from eating the whole thing. But when his fork scrapes an empty plate, his eyes are so alert it shocks his mother.

“My God, Eddie! What happened?”

“Nothing, mommy! Just forgot I had some homework to do.”

“Well there's really no reason to get so worked up like that, it’s just homework.”

Eddie takes a steadying breath, clenching his fists together under the table. “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.”

Take 1 to 3

Eddie looks at the small pills in their package, thoughts flying through his head. I can’t have that pasta in me. I want to be 129.7 pounds.

He takes one of his pencils, poking holes in the packaging to retrieve the small pills. They’re so tiny. Three cannot be enough.

He takes eight.

He expects a woosh, some kind of violent reaction from the small pills but he feels normal. The feeling of cold water remaining in his stomach is all he can grasp. He showers, changes into pajamas, and lies down in his bed to read a comic under the lamplight before falling asleep to the sound of a tree branch lightly tapping his window.

It’s 3:28 am when it happens. The cramps. The headache. The sweating. He holds onto his stomach and groans into his pillowcase, tears forming behind his eye. He wants to call out but he’s afraid that if he opens his mouth he’s going to vomit.

It takes a great deal of energy and grit to get to the bathroom, and it doesn’t even feel better once he’s done. His stomach still hurts, along with his ass now. And he leans on the bathroom sink, groaning and sweating.

He lies back down in his bed, but not even 30 minutes later he’s up again, running to the bathroom. This process repeats three more times before he passes out on top of his sheets a sweating, exhausted mess.

Eddie ignores his alarm that morning and wraps his blanket around himself before going into his mother's bedroom where she’s tying on her sneakers, getting ready for her new diner job. “I’m going to stay home today.”

And for a split second, he sees some of her old-self flash in front of him— a flicker of panic behind her bulging eyes and a bright pink tint come to her fat cheeks. He holds his breath in his throat, heart pounding in his ears. He can’t deal with his old mother again. Not anymore. Not today especially.

She sniffs and looks back down at her shoes. “That's fine, Eddie. I still have to work.”

“Okay.”

She stands up and grabs her purse, linking her wide arm through it. “I’ll be home late tonight. I’m covering somebody else’s shift.”

Eddie nods and steps out of her way as she goes into the kitchen, fumbling around for her keys. “Drink water.” is all she says to him before she leaves. He watches her car as it rolls down the road, standing barefoot in the living room, comforter wrapped around himself.

-x-

129.6

Eddie just cries.

Of joy, because he’s lost nearly ten pounds. Relief, because he’s pasta-free. But there’s sadness.

Because right now, laying on the blue bathroom floor, his face pressed against the cold tiles, he feels so alone. So fucking alone.

-x-

The phone rings twice from the kitchen, but Eddie doesn’t move off the floor to answer it. He’s decided that the bathroom will be his current resting spot for today, and has brought in his comforter. He’s gone from profusely sweating to cold and he wants to take a warm bath, but his abdomen is so sore and it hurts to move.

He closes his eyes and pinches his brows together, trying to ignore the throbbing pain he feels.

Somebody is yelling.

Yelling my name.

I can’t answer and I’m stuck.
There are binds around me, binding me to this chair and it’s so bright.

I open my mouth to speak but nothing breaks through.

I want to cry but I can’t

I can’t do anything except

sit here

alone.

EddieEddieEddie

“Eddie! Eddie!”

Eddie jolts awake, eyes flying open and taking in a large gulp of air. He sees the shadow of someone tall and skinny cast on the wall and, like an instinct, his heart leaps.

“W-What?” Eddie answers, holding himself up with one arm. Richie kneels next to him, wrapping both arms around Eddie and steadying the shaking boy. “You fell asleep, Ed’s,” Richie says and Eddie leans into him.

“What were you doing on the bathroom floor?” It’s the softest Richie has ever spoken to Eddie and it melts him. His voice is at a higher octave and it’s barely a whisper like it’s made just for Eddie.

“Nothing. I’m okay.”

“You weren’t at the quarry today. I was worried.”

Eddie smiles internally, at people being worried about him, but then he realizes he’s fucked in the head and feels worse about himself. Crazy fucker.

“I wasn’t feeling good.”

“I see that.” Richie giggles running a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Do you want to get off the bathroom floor anytime soon or just chill here?”

Eddie giggles this time, his laugh light and airy to avoid an unwanted tug on his abdomen. “We can go. I’ve been here all day, I’ve had enough of this room.”

“Hmmm. Want to see the living room, Spaghetti Man?”

“Only if you promise to stop calling me that.”

“Well. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here. I will never give up on the spaghetti nicknames, you will fall in love with them one day.”

I already have. “Fine. Living room it is.”

Richie helps him up, both hands on Eddie’s newly prominent hipbones and Eddie has to bite his lips to keep himself from smiling. He can probably feel them. Richie wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist, leading him to the living room.

“You sit.” He says, pushing Eddie down to the brown couch. “Do you want anything to eat? I’m going to get you some water.”

“No. I’m okay.”

“Alright. Get comfy, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie picks up the remote and flips through the channels, bringing his legs up to his chest and turning diagonally against the couch. The large comforter is scrunched up around him, providing a comforting warmth that makes Eddie want to slip back into sleep.

Eddie puts the remote down after finding The Simpsons. He curls up against himself, eyes slowly closing to the ambiance of Richie in the kitchen and Homer Simpson talking.

“You’re adorable, Ed’s,” Richie says and Eddie opens his eyes, guilt consuming him almost immediately. “I brought you this heating pad, water, I made you some tea too, and a few crackers that you can have later if you feel up to it. Most importantly, I brought myself. Richard Tozier at your service.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah. Sure. But you still keep me around.” Richie says, sitting next to Eddie. “Here’s the heating pad,” Richie places it on his stomach and Eddie almost moans from how good the warmth feels and how the ache fades almost instantly.

He should’ve done this hours ago.

Richie leans forward, grabbing the tea on the coffee table in front of them. “My mom always makes me this when I’m having a stomach ache— Chamomile Tea. I don’t know how good it’s going to taste, I found it behind your soup cans.”

Richie hands Eddie the warm cup and Eddie raises the mug to his lips, sipping at the liquid. “Good?” Richie asks and Eddie nods, sleepiness overcoming him once again. His body simply exhausted after a night of up and down and painful trips to the bathroom.

Richie moves his arm behind Eddie and places his other hand over the heating pad on Eddie’s stomach. Eddie leans into him, placing his legs over Richie’s and resting his head on his shoulder, taking occasional sips from the mug.

Richie rests the side of his cheek against Eddie’s hair and Eddie closes his eyes, feeling safe.

He’s safe now.

Chapter Text

Oddly enough, Eddie swears that time is only moving faster because of his… diet. June passed by in a blur, and that's really all he remembers, his days blurring into one. The feeling of the scale under his feet in the mornings and the bitter taste of black coffee.

When he closes his eyes at night, listening to David Bowie on his walkman, he imagines a true summer. One with ice cream and hotdogs, laying at the quarry all day and eating junk food with his friends at the movie theaters. He misses that life, but then again he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to be that fat again, he’ll simply die if he does. He’s grown to love the feeling of hunger, how he feels nauseous but happy at the same time, in the sickest way possible. Eddie can’t go a day without reminding himself how fucked in the head he is, how he should stand in front of the train tracks and wait. Clenching his hands around his blankets and crying into his pillow, Eddie notices ho miserable he is.

And it’s so confusing because he thought he would be happier, having lost 10 pounds, but he’s just… sad. He’s so sad.

-x-

~July~

He writes down in his notebook:

56 days until school starts. 27 lbs to go.

-x-

The phone rings from the kitchen as Eddie is cutting a banana into minuscule pieces to have for lunch and he nearly cuts his finger, jumping from the sudden loud sound. “Fuck,” Eddie grumbles, dropping the knife on the counter. He needs to eat now, it’s 2:20, when he’s supposed to break. his fast.

“Hello?” Eddie says urgently into the phone, hoping to hang up as soon as possible.

“Spaghetti Man!” Eddie rolls his eyes as a smile forms on his face.

“Whatcha up to today, babe?”

Eddie blushes at the nickname but chooses to ignore it. Maybe he’ll say it again. “Tons. I was thinking of throwing a party.”

“You need a party to have a party, Ed’s. I am the party in case you’ve forgotten.”

“How could I?” Eddie says, twirling the spiral phone cord around his fingers.

“Wanna start this party a little earlier? I’ve moved my date with Stan’s mother back.”

“Oh, bummer.” Eddie jokes, crossing his ankles and squeezing them together.

“Big bummer, I was really looking forward to it.”

Eddie bites his lip. “So you’re gonna come over?”

“Be there in ten.”

The phone line goes dead, leaving Eddie sitting on the table with a long dial tone ringing in his ear from the other line. He places the phone on the wall and turns to the counter where the banana and the knife lay. He feels the emptiness inside of him, how a large cloud of nothing swims in his stomach. He holds a breath and grabs onto his ribs, closing his eyes.

He throws the half-cut banana away and washes the knife, sitting on the warm couch with a dull smile on his face. I’ll be there one day.

Richie shows up to Eddie’s house in a beat up, mustard yellow, truck that is diagonally parked in his driveway. “You have a car? But— you don’t even have your license?!” Eddie exclaim standing on the porch, crossing his arms.

“A license is just a card saying that I can drive, it’s my awesome skills that really matter.”

“No, I don’t think that's how it works.”

“Well, here in Toziertown it is.”

“Sound like a terrible town.” Eddie remarks and Richie shrugs. “It rains a lot but we get around.”

Eddie’s heart clenches, noticing how Richie’s face fell. He steps off the porch, crossing the yard to Richie who’s leaning against his car. “Then you guys should get more umbrellas,” Eddie says and Richie’s face glows.

“So… wanna on an adventure, little one?”

Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not little."

Richie smiles opening the driver's side door. “I forgot, sorry.”

Eddie walks around to the other side, opening the door and being greeted with the heavy smell of smoke. “Jeez Rich, hot box a lot, do you?”

Richie chuckles, turning the keys and Eddie feels the rumble of the engine as the car flips on.

“Where are we going?”

“Road trip.”

-x-

The Losers join them, piling in the backseat, and Mike sharing the passenger's seat with Eddie. They’re on the highway, windows halfway down, while Joy Division blasts through the speakers. Eddie looks over to Richie, seeing his wild curls flying around his hair, glasses resting on the bridge of his node, and a smirk from the corner of his mouth.

With both hands on the wheel, looking so free from the pressure that comes with growing up in Derry, he was beautiful he was glowing. Like in those moments Richie was endless, immortal, he would forever be like this and Eddie wants to press his face to Richie’s shoulder where the suns shining to feel the warmth there. He wants to soak up everything this boy has to offer.

Eddie can’t grasp onto the happiness going through the car and when he does, it slips through his fingers. Every breath hurts, and the sun isn’t warm on his skin. He sits there, leaned into Mike and watching the blue sky, feeling numb. It’s the worst feeling ever. He sits there the remainder of the car ride in silence, imagining something he can't have.

When he opens his eyes again, the sky is now a beautiful gold and it shines through the car, causing all of them to squint their eyes in protest to the brightness.

“Losers, welcome to the Blueberry Festival.”

Eddie looks out of the window seeing the rows of cars and in the distance a tall ferris wheel that spins slowly. Eddie turns to Richie, not bothering to hide the excitement that bubbles inside. He doesn’t want to, missing feelings and being happy. It’s such a simple, stupid concept. Be happy.

“We’re going inside?”

“No Eddie, we were just going to chill out in this cramped car till we felt like leaving,” Stan says and Eddie glares at him.

“Yes, we’re going in. And we’re going to ride all of the rides till we all puke.” Richie reassures him.

“Please, no puking,” Beverly adds, snuggling into Ben’s side.

Richie winks at Eddie. “Not around Ms. Marsh, at least.”

They walk together the front of the festival, paying for themselves, then walking into the festival where glowing neon colors flash everywhere from the rides, and the aroma of fried food meeting their nostrils. Eddie grimaces, looping his fingers into his wristband noticing the large space he can pull. Tiny wrists. Tiny wrists.

Eddie is called back into reality when Richie throws an arm over his shoulder. “Where to first?”

-x-

Eddie grips Richie’s hands as they crazily spin on Avalanche, loud disco music filling their ears along with the screams of people from other carts. Eddie’s vision is a blur of colors that flash every second, digging into his brain so roughly, he closes his eyes. Only when the ride stops does Eddie open his eyes again.

Richie holds his hand tighter as they get out, using Eddie as balance, following their friends to sit on the benches outside and catch their bench.

“Hey guys, we’ll be right back,” Richie calls out before pulling Eddie the other way, away from the vibrant colors perturbing from heavily populated rides. They walk in a comfortable silence for a little bit, holding onto each other's hands and taking in the aesthetic of the festival.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Rich?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately and you seem upset, and it’s worrying me. You’re never like this.” Richie says and Eddie feels his stomach drop more than it did on the drop tower.

“Yeah, I am,” Eddie says, forcing the words through his lips that won’t open wide enough for Richie to hear him without straining.

Richie stops abruptly and turns to Eddie, taking his other hand. “I don’t believe you.” Eddie looks down at their hands, trying to hold back his emotions.

“Eddie,” Richie says more sternly, lifting Eddie’s chin with his fingers. “Talk to me.”

Eddie purses his lips and shakes his head. Richie sighs and looks above and around him, before taking off once again, Eddie lagging behind him. Richie stops behind a yellow funhouse, muffled music thumping from the inside. “Look, we’re alone. It’s just me, little one. Please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

Eddie almost winces from the sincerity Richie is displaying, because so rarely does Richie show his emotions like this. He always cracks jokes, trying to make others smile but now he’s just… serious.

I can’t talk to you, you’re going to make me stop. You’re going to make me fat. You’re going to make me eat. You don’t know what’s good for me.

Then the truth settles in like an ugly black fog, sticking to Eddie. I love my diet more than my friends. But he can’t admit to himself that he has a problem, because he’s probably just overreacting. He’s dieting, trying to lose weight. But you’re so addicted to you’re diet you’re willing to throw away relationships just to keep doing it.

I’m not going to let anybody take this from me. “Nothing is wrong… I’m fine.” Eddie says defensively. Don’t take this from me.

However despite Eddie’s irritated tone of voice, Richie still presses, and it’s so like Richie. To not give, or shut up. “Your mom's car hasn’t been in the driveway for almost three days.”

A lump forms in Eddie’s throat and his eyes glimmer with tears. “She’s working a lot now.” He says, his voice raspy and blatantly uncertain. He’s been home alone for nearly three days and it’s been the scariest days he’s faced yet. Eddie hates being alone, especially in houses. He can’t bear the thought of intruders breaking in, kidnapping him, and taking him away so that he never sees his friends again.

Eddie Kaspbrak is terrified of being alone.

He sleeps in his locked bedroom, listening to talk shows on the radio so he hears peoples voices, and hides a knife in his bedside table, just in case. Every thump and groan of the house sends him into a full-blown panic attack. There are ugly bags underneath his eyes and his brain is foggy.

“You look so tired,” Richie says, tracing underneath Eddie’s eyes. “Have you been sleeping?”

Eddie stays quiet, avoiding eye contact, and biting down on his lower lip.

“Baby, is she taking care of you?” His voice is soft again and he bringing his thumb to Eddie’s lips, tugging on his bottom lip so Eddie releases it.

And Eddie loses it.

The tears come out faster than he imagined and he can’t breathe. Richie instantly wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close and pressing his nose into Eddie’s hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay, now. I got you.”

Eddie continues to take shaky breaths, salty tears moving down his face, fists gripping Richie’s shirt, and his face into Richie’s chest. Richie cooes to Eddie, completely enveloping him and slightly rocking back side to side, rubbing comforting circles into his back. Minutes pass and Eddie pulls away finally, face puffy with tears, Richie places his hands on Eddie’s upper arms holding him gently. Richie leans forward and presses his forehead against Eddie’s.

“I’m going to take care of you now.”

Eddie closes his eyes and Richie’s hands move down, circling his waist and pressing the palms of his hands on Eddie’s back. “I promise.”

Eddie thinks briefly that they might kiss, Richie’s lips are so close to his, if he moved forward the smallest amount, they would be kissing. Then Eddie remembers how much he weighs, the fat on his thighs, his stomach, and backs up, ruining the moment.

I’m sorry.

“W-w-we should get back to the others.” Richie says, dropping his arms by his sides. Eddie nods and they walk back, hands to themselves and no words shared. Guilt consumes Eddie once again, having let Richie down. He feels like a failure. Like the biggest failure around.

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling

-x-

The car is quiet after The Losers are dropped off at their respective houses, Bill spending the night with Stan and Mike as usual. Beverly is the last to slip out of the car, kissing Richie’s cheek on her way out. Richie drives slowly down the roads, Eddie silent next to him.

Richie stops at a flashing traffic light, red shining into his car. “Do you-“

“Can we please go to your house?”

“Of course.”

Richie’s mom is sleeping on the couch when they get inside, blanket sliding off her body which Richie adjusts. The door to his parent's room is closed and from inside Eddie hears the sound of a cartoon show. Eddie follows Richie into his bedroom, noticing the old, crooked picture frames along the peeling wallpaper. The wood floor creaks beneath their weight, and the carpet does the same when they enter Richie’s bedroom. His bed is unmade, a blue comforter thrown diagonally across the bed and white pillows around the bed, sheets wrinkled underneath them. Posters are thrown on the walls of all Richie’s favorite bands, school books and comics cover the top of his dresser and a record player sits in the corner, a Metallica record still sitting on the player, unmoving and ready to be flipped.

Eddie kneels down next to the record player and flips through Richie’s vinyls, finding the David Bowie record he got Richie for Christmas.

“Go for it. I love that one.” Richie comments, looking through his drawers for spare clothes Eddie can borrow. Eddie picks up the needle, and switches the records, letting the needle slowly come down on the spinning record and smiling when the beginnings of Space Oddity pulse through the speakers quietly.

Eddie stands and turns to Richie who is holding out a large T-Shirt. “This should do, let me know if you want something else.” Eddie nods and takes the clothes, holding them to his chest.

“I-I’m going to go check on my mom, I’ll be right back.” Richie stammers before leaving the room, closing the door on his way out.

Eddie changes out of his shorts and shirt, untying his converse and tucking his socks neatly inside. He pulls Richie’s shirt over him and is met with the smell of Richie. Like smoke and cinnamon, the smell of the hazy record player shop where he works.

Eddie looks down, seeing as the shirt comes to his mid thighs and he smirks, watching in the mirror as the shirt slides upward against his thighs as he raises his arms. He imagines briefly, having smaller thighs and doing this. Richie’s large hand moving to grab his thigh, completely covering it.

There's a knock on the door and Eddie sits down on his bed as Richie comes in, sitting next to him. Eddie drums his fingers against his knees, taking a large breath. “My mom said she was going to work. She never went there. I went to the diner and asked where she was and they said she came and picked up her last check three days ago and they haven’t seen her since.”

“Do you know where she went?”

Eddie bites his lip and shakes his head. “No. I don’t know what I did, Rich.”

Richie wraps his arms around Eddie again, pulling Eddie into him. “It’s not your fault, Ed’s. Okay?”

-x-

Midnight looms over Richie’s small house, and sleep tugs at Eddie’s eyes as he listens to the David Bowie record, still being held by Richie. Richie pulls away, wiping a stray tear on his face. “I told you I would take care of you.”

Eddie smiles and laughs a bit, watery and sad. “Thanks, Rich.”

Richie rubs his back and stands up. “I’ll sleep in the living room, you stay in here-“

Eddie grabs Richie’s wrist quickly, tugging on it, eyes watering and threatening to spill. He’s spent his nights alone and scared, and for one night he just wants to feel safe.

“Please stay with me. Don’t leave me.”

Richie’s heart breaks and he bends down, cupping Eddie’s face. “Of course.”

Eddie moves backward, laying down on one of the pillows and Richie lays next to him, the two boys cuddling against each other. Richie pulls the blue comforter around them and Eddie nuzzles his cheek into his shoulder. “Night, Chee.”

Richie presses his nose into Eddie’s hair, breathing in his smell of honeysuckle shampoo. “Sleep tight.”

And Eddie’s dreams are different tonight. They’re warm dreams of friends and happiness, of Richie holding him as they jump off the cliff into the lake below. There are no intruders in these dreams.

Not with Richie here.

Chapter Text

-x-

Eddie goes home two days later.

Things don’t go well.

Cookies, ice cream, pasta, pasta, and another serving of pasta, cereal, but make that the entire box. Oreos, the entire, stale, overdue pack. He didn’t care. He just kept eating, mindlessly, in front of the TV. He ate until there was nothing left until the entire kitchen was void of food. He then spends two hours throwing everything out, everything.

The only thing he leaves in the kitchen is water, and looking at his empty fridge, Eddie feels like he can finally breathe. He lugs the bursting trash bag out to the curb and hauls it into his trashcan.

Hours later, he’s hungry again.

-x-

Beverly is known in The Losers Club for smoking like a chimney, there’s always a pack of cigarettes in her purse, and the smell of smoke just reminds them all of Beverly. There are so many times Eddie remembers sitting on the steps of Beverly’s apartment or the rocks by the Quarry, listening to music and smelling her smoke.

He watches her now, sitting next to him on the curb, waiting for the rest of the Losers to meet them for the 3 o’clock movie, her thin wrists bringing the cigarette to her mouth. She sucks in her cheekbones as she inhales, the bones there threatening to poke through the skin. The freckles along her nose and cheeks accentuated, and Eddie stares like a hungry predator— and in a way he is.

He wants to ask how much she weighs, her diet, how much coffee does she drink? Does she run often? Eddie knows she doesn’t, but he wants to know. He wants to have her body.

“Can I-“ Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, as his hands begin to shake. “Could I try one?”

Beverly’s eyes widen and she turns to Eddie. “These?” She holds up her cigarette and Eddie notes the tenants on her finger, and how 3 protrude, mimicking a crows foot.

“Yes. I just want to… try.”

Beverly eyes him, her blue eyes narrowing. “I wanted to try too.” She says. Eddie thinks she isn’t going to give him one, and a part of him wishes she wouldn’t— to forcibly hold him back from the habit. She sucks on the last of her cigarette, the white diminishing into ashes that she flicks off to the gravel road. She throws down the cigarette, smashing it with her foot.

“Why?” She asks. “You know what’s in these things, you told me all the time last year.”

Eddie shrugs.

“Cigarettes are gross.” “Being fat is grosser.” 

“You said it numbs you… I just want to be numb.” I don’t want to feel hungry anymore.

Beverly smiles sadly, placing a cold hand on his knee. “The pain comes back.”

Eddie shrugs again. “It’s always there, just sometimes we’re too occupied to notice it.”

Beverly sighs, and kisses his temple, pulling him close to rest his head on her shoulder. She reaches a hand into her bag, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips. “So you’re going to suck in as I light the bottom, that way it stays lit. Okay?”

Eddie nods and sucks in, watching Beverly’s lighter near the end of the cigarette then she lights it. His throat burns and his eyes water, though from sadness or from the rush of chemicals— he can’t tell. Like an instinct, he places the cigarette between his middle and pointer finger, pulling it down and blowing into the warm wind.

“You okay?” Beverly asks, rubbing his back.

Eddie brings the cigarette to his lips again, closing his eyes and moving his body towards Beverly, his lips beginning to tremble. “No.”

“Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. It’s alright.” She whispers, hugging him as he smokes. He can’t stop thinking about all the chemicals, how much shit is in the cigarette. But he keeps smoking. This is disgusting. You’re disgusting. Your lungs are going to turn black and slimy.

By the time the cigarette is gone, he’s leaning against Beverly, his eyes droopy and swollen. She’s still whispering to him, holding him tightly as he falls apart. He wants to be small again, he wants to be held like this all the time. He wants someone to care for him, to fill in the parental role that he lacks.

He wants to hold hands and go on dates, feel the sunshine and smile, not recoil and complain it’s too bright. He doesn’t want to live in this darkness anymore.

“It’s going to be alright.”

But is it?

-x-

Eddie denies a bag of popcorn, instead of buying a Diet Coke. Richie is shocked when Eddie comes up to them, holding his Diet Coke. “Ed’s! I’m impressed.”

Eddie looks down at the label, blushing. Zero Calories. “Just trying out some new things.”

Beverly looks oddly at Eddie but then turns around to Ben, giving him his blue Slurpee. Richie wraps an arm around Eddie and pulls him into his side, grinning. “Judgement Day, anybody?”

They all get settled in the theatre as the lights dim, the screen lighting up, Terminator 2 beginning to play. The theatre was quite popular, considering that the movie had only been out for 3 days. They would’ve come on the first showing, but some of the Losers were still scraping together quarters to pay for a movie ticket.

And Eddie was fine with that, three days ago he was binging, his abdomen swollen painfully with the thousands of calories he had just consumed in a short amount of time. Since then Eddie’s stomach has gone down and is no longer the swollen, painful, round bubble it used to be. But Eddie notices his chin whenever he looks in the mirror, and he wonders if his friends can notice also.

It took everything in him to avoid buying a buttery popcorn. One where he could reach his hands into the popcorn, fingers chapping and becoming dehydrated with the overwhelming presence of salt, as he places it on his tongue the salt melts away and a buttery taste fills his mouth.

His fingers are shiny in the light of the movie theatre screen and he twirls his tongue around them, licking the butter out of the crevices in his fingers. Then, his thighs begin to swell and his bottom follows after, falling over the edges of his seat and forcing Richie to shoot over to avoid his hips. His stomach stretches his shirt, falling over the hemline of his shorts and touching his thighs, the fat skin cold and squishy against his skin. His cheeks fill out and his mouth dribbles with orange grease, he looks down at his sausage fingers and sees them with a buttery sheen.

Eddie is thrown back into reality when a loud sound from the movie reverberates throughout the theatre. His hands instantly move across his body, feeling his arms, his thighs, his stomach, and his cheeks. He even looks at his fingers, checking to make sure there was no residue.

Richie squeezes his shoulder with his other hand and brings his mouth close to Eddie’s ear. “You okay?”

Eddie sinks into his seat, bringing his knees to his chin and wrapping both hands around his ankles. “Yeah-Yeah, I’m okay.”

He can’t stop thinking about how real everything was. How he had seriously felt fat, and now, as he sits in the movie theatre sipping on his diet coke, he only wants to lose weight more. He shivers slightly, remembering all the feelings.

Richie’s arm is then sliding against his waist, hooking onto his hip, fingers brushing the skin exposed between Eddie’s shorts and a t-shirt. His fingers are warm, tickling Eddie’s sensitive skin, and he has to keep himself from squirming in his seat. Smiling shyly in the darkness, illuminated by the large movie screen.

“Are you cold, Ed’s?” Richie whispers in Eddie’s ear.

Eddie shakes his head, hands gripping each other to avoid any movement he might make. “No, I’m okay.”

Eddie can practically feel Richie’s lips form into a smirk from behind his ear and he doesn’t move at all from his position there, distracting Eddie throughout the entire movie. As his friends continuously chatter walking out of the movie theatre about the intense plot, Eddie stays quiet, not remembering a things that happened during the movie.

He sighs as they step out into the parking lot, searching for Richie’s car. He wants a cigarette.

-x-

He and Richie are swerving down an open road, listening to Joy Division, the golden sunlight pouring through the windows. Eddie’s arm is brushing against Richie’s and it’s warm. He can’t ignore how warm his arms are.
Eddie smiles as the yellow glow of sunlight illuminates across his face, highlighting freckles and his honey-colored skin. Then there's a loud rumble and Richie swerves too violently for Eddie’s liking and his eyes fly open. “Richie?!”

“I can’t stop the car! The brakes!”

Eddie’s eye flies open and he starts to panic, turning to Richie who is doing the same. “What do we do?!”

“Eddie, unbuckle your seatbelt and jump out of the car once I get closer to the grass.”

“Richie you have to jump! You can’t stay in here!”

“I will! I will! Just do as I say!” Richie says urgently and Eddie obeys, his seatbelt sliding against his body and his hand going to the door.

“You better jump.”

“GO!”

Eddie flings the door open and jumps, his body landing with the soft padding of grass and rolling for a bit. When he stops rolling, he looks up and sees the ugly pick up truck with its nose in a ditch and glass covering the inside of the car.

Eddie feels sick like he’s going to throw up, and he slowly gets up, finding his footing against the gravel road. “R-Richie?” He calls out but it’s more of a whisper, he’s unable to find it in himself to raise his voice and call out for Richie.

He stumbles towards the truck, holding onto the bottom of his stomach where he feels the uncomfortable feeling that makes him want to throw up. “Richie?”

There's a deafening silence and Eddie has to blink through the tears and vigorously wipe at his eyes when he sees a blob exit the driver's seat of the car. When he moves his fingers from his eyes he sees Richie standing there, holding his bleeding arm, and dirty hair covered in dirt.

“Richie!” Eddie exclaims, breaking into a run despite the burning in his leg from where his leg scratched against the road. Eddie throws his arms around Richie’s arms, on his tip toes, and head in his neck. Richie’s arms follow after, enveloping Eddie and pressing them together.

“I was so scared.” Eddie whines.

“I wasn’t. You forget I’m a fucking warrior.”

And Eddie’s heart flutters and as his brain clears of terrible thoughts and images he had imagined to mentally prepare himself for the trauma of seeing Richie’s dead body. He’s not sure if it’s the sudden rush of happiness caused from the removal of all those thoughts or the heat of the day, but Eddie moves his head back and cups Riche’s cheek.

Richie's brown eyes are glittering into Eddie’s and Eddie runs his thumb gently across the cut on his cheek. “You are.” And he kisses Richie.

-x-

Four days later, they decide that the whole situation is actually funny. How some things can just make a person crazy like the thoughts of losing your best friend.

Except none of them think they’re actually crazy. And they’ve both put in their respective amount of intense thinking into this justification. And Eddie’s gone over so many times about how he can tell Richie that “No, it wasn’t just because I was happy to see you.”  But they all end in Richie leaving him and never talking to him again, so Eddie says nothing.

And he hates himself for it.

-x-

The hot water is gone, and the air conditioning too. Well, they’re not gone just… turned off. His mother's absence looms over him constantly, and he’s reminded of it every tie he sees the empty cabinets in his kitchen or the feeling of cold water.

Eddie is spending his night how he usually spends them, working out and sweating in front of the TV, his thighs burning and gasping for air. His eyes go to the timer in the corner of the screen and the time from 30 seconds to 25 seconds is the longest 5 seconds he’s ever experienced.

“C’mon almost there!”

A war takes place in his mind, as the humid air comes in through the open window, he wants to stop and breathe, but his brain tells him to keep going. His body screams in protest with every move he makes I need to stop. I need to stop. I need to stop.

Ten. Nine.

“C’mon! Do it for the body you’ve always wanted!”

Eight. Seven Six.

“Imagine everybody’s reaction when they see you!”

Five. Four. Three. Two

He falls on the floor, hand grabbing the fabric over his chest.

One.

He looks up at the ceiling, breathless and winded. He notices the pain in all of his muscles and he feels the sweat on his face. A smile begins to stretch across his lips as he realizes he’s only happy like this.

The self-hatred intensifies as his eyes droop and his brain goes foggy.

-x-

There's a warmth on his forehead, a large hand covering his forehead, then moving back to go through his hair. Again and again, this happens and he picks up a soft whisper. “Eddie. Eddie.”

He slowly opens his eyes, vision blurred and foggy. He turns his head and sees Mike, kneeling next to him. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Mmmm. Hmm?” Eddie mumbles, trying to ground his mind.

“You were asleep on the floor, Richie’s been calling you for hours.”

Hours?

Eddie turns his head to the clock hanging above the TV and his eyes widen seeing 3 am.

It was six when I started working out. He lays back down and Mike starts caressing his hair again, talking to him, but Eddie doesn’t pick up his words, too busy trying to figure out what happened.

“Eddie!”

Eddie jumps and Mike shushes him, apologizing. “Oh, sorry Ed’s. Have you eaten?”

Hunger is a strange thing to him now because he enjoys it more than he should. It makes him feel empty and clean, he feels prettiest when the pains in his stomach are the strongest.

“You need to eat, Ed’s. I can make you something.”

Mike stands up and heads to the kitchen while Eddie struggles to stand, calling after him in a raspy voice. “No! Please! You don’t have to I’m fine!”

“Just something small, Eddie. You’re exhausted.”

I can’t eat after 6:30. I can’t eat after 6:30.

Then he remembers, he can’t eat anyways. And Mike opens the cabinets, faced with empty shelves. Eddie stands there, looking stupid as he presumes, while Mike reveals more empty shelves.

“Wheres your-“

Eddie can’t answer, and his chest fills up again, burning. His breaths are short and quick and a buzz resonates in his ears. So many physical feelings bubble inside of him and he slumps in one of the dining room chairs, unable to look up into Mike’s concerned eyes.

“Eddie, where’s all your food?”

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

“Eddie?” Mike kneels down in front of him, taking his hands. “You need to breathe.”

Eddie closes his eyes, tears leaking out, shaking his head. “You weren’t supposed to see. You weren’t supposed to see.”

Mike grabs both sides of Eddie’s face, keeping it still. “You don’t have to get all worked up, it’s just me, okay? It’s me, Mike.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, and then takes another, holding onto Mike’s hand trying to keep his from shaking. Mike reaches out one of his arms, pulling the other dining room chair in front of Eddie. “Are you okay now? Can you talk?”

Eddie nods once more, the pain in his chest subsiding. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Eddie, why do you not have any food? Medicine? You only have a half-empty bottle of diet coke and two strawberries, that look like they’ve gone bad…”

“I-I have to go to the store?” But the answer sounds more like a question and he’d be stupid not to believe that Mike didn’t pick it up. “I was gonna order a pizza but… I fell asleep.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mike says and Eddie’s protective barrier crumbles, falling at his feet. There’s still a portion of it up, protecting the one thing he guiltily holds so close his eating disorder.But Mike opens his arms and Eddie falls into them, crying into the softness of Mike’s shirt.

He’s so tired of this. He wants his mom to come home. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

He thinks about dying.

“Eddie, you haven’t been eating…”

Eddie keeps crying, letting himself be rocked back and forth by Mike and he looks over Mike’s shoulder at all of the empty shelves and his insides burn more. Once Eddie’s cries have turned to small whimpers, Mike pulls away, keeping his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Talk to me.”

“M-My mom….” Eddie begins. “She hasn’t come home in almost two weeks.”

“Did she leave you with money?”

Eddie shakes his head again, wiping his tears. “She’s just gone.”

Mike holds him for a long time and when they stop, Eddie is half asleep. Mike easily lifts Eddie, bringing him to his bedroom and sliding him underneath the covers, pulling them around his chin.

“Mike?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“Please don’t tell Richie.”
Mike’s heart breaks and the urge to cry bites at the back of his eyes, stinging and painful. “Of course.”

Eddie promises to buy more food, and Mike promises that it’s going to be okay.

They’re both lying.

Not one admits it.

Chapter Text

-x-

Mike pounds on Richie’s door and doesn’t stop until Richie flings open the door, obviously pissed off.

“WHAT?”

“Eddie,” Mike says before Richie throws his hands around Mike’s neck, strangling him for waking him up at nearly 6 am. And like magic, Richie softens and his hands go down to his sides. “What happened?”

Please don’t tell anyone.

Mike sighs loudly over the argument inside of his brain, settling for a safe middle. “I just- is he okay?”

Richie leans against the door. “He hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. His mama’s gone through.”

“Where did she go?”

Richie shrugs and steps onto the porch, sitting on one of the steps with Mike. “Hell if I know. She just left.”

Mike nods understanding and watches the morning sun peek through the leaves on the trees. “How’s Eddie handling it?”

Richie shrugs again. “Not gonna lie, I’m worried. I don’t think he’s doing so well, and he’s not taking care of himself-“

“He’s lost a lot of weight.”

Richie’s stomach tightens and he struggles to let a breath out. “Y-Yeah.” I didn't notice. He feels like shit. 

Mike scratches his eyebrow and sighs. "His cabinets are empty. Theres no food in them."

"What?"

"He has nothing to eat." Richie's eyes widen. "I'm worried about him." Mike says.

“Yeah…”

“Everybody is, Rich. We miss him and he doesn’t come out with us anymore. Poor boy is having his summer ruined because of his mother who left him.”

“He’s never gone without his mom around for this long. I-I don’t really know how to talk to him about it.” Richie responds.

Mike pats Richie on the shoulder and hugs him. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. You’re Richie Tozier for fuck's sake, you can do anything.”

Richie weakly smiles… I can’t help Eddie.

-x-

Richie’s car is still in the shop and it kills him not to have his beat-up truck, he wanted to go on another road trip with Eddie. Maybe to one of the best restaurants in Maine, so he could watch Eddie eat and make sure he’s getting what he needs.
He has a crumpled five dollar bill in his back pocket and he stares at it, not knowing what to do. He wants Eddie to eat, he wants to make sure he’s eating. Maybe buy him some groceries, but with five dollars? He decides to pull out something small from his own cabinets, two granola bars, and he tucks them in his pocket before kissing his mom on the cheek and walking out to his bike.

He keeps placing his hands in his pocket, feeling for the five dollars and checking if it’s there. A cone of ice cream is $1.15 and a soda is 1.00. He repeats to himself, dropping his bike in the bushes in front of Eddie’s house.

He raises a fist and knocks on the door three times before gazing down at his feet and staring at his dirty red converse and the nearly-brown shoelaces. The door opens and Eddie steps forward, his hair tousled and his eyes tired. “Did I wake you?” Richie asks.

Eddie shakes his head, opening the door for Richie to come inside. “No. I haven’t really slept.”

Richie frowns and Eddie leads him to his room, the two sitting on Eddie’s warm bed, Richie’s back being hit by a warm sun ray. Eddie’s room is messier than it usually is, and Richie notices the absence of old stuffed animals Eddie used to keep in stuffed in the corner by his dresser. He wants to ask, but he’s here for only one thing, finding out what’s going on

“Eddie, has your mom called you lately?”

Eddie yawns and shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing from her. I’m just living off her leftovers.”

Richie reaches a hand inside of his pocket, producing the two granola bars. “Breakfast?”

Eddie feels his heart jolt and his hands begin to sweat. He tries looking at the nutrition label but it’s tucked under the packet, facedown against Riche’s hand. How many calories is a granola bar? If I eat this I can fast for the rest of the day. I never eat breakfast. This is too early to eat. He looks at his digital clock on his bedside, seeing 9 am flashing back at him. It’s only been 15 hours.

Every day, he makes it to 20 hours, unless he’s fasting. It makes him feel light like he’s losing weight. And he thinks it’s helping, he’s lost 2.3 pounds in three days. He hasn’t weighed himself today.

I can’t weigh myself. The granola bar will make my weight rise.

And just like that, so many thoughts and emotions swirl through his head, too many to keep up. He can’t remember where he is, who he’s with. Eddie bites the inside of his cheek and clenches his hands uncomfortably, feeling his nails push into the flesh on his palms.

“O-O-Okay.” He says, his voice barely audible. He reaches for the granola bar and peels it open, the aroma of honey and roasted nuts hitting his senses. Richie takes a bite first, humming in satisfaction and Eddie does the same, except much slower and with more resistace. I just broke my fast. I broke my fast.

“Are you taking care of yourself, Ed’s?” Richie asks and Eddie freezes once more, he feels like Richie is onto him. Like any second Richie will scoop him up and bring him to the doctors, expose all his secrets and he’ll have to stay in the hospital forever. He’ll get fat. He’ll gain so much weight. They’ll make him recover. I don't want to change.

“Yeah. I mean, my mom is still gone and I’m pretty sure I’m going to run out of money soon. I filled out a job application at the drug store yesterday, so hopefully, they hire me.” Eddie says, this time telling the truth. He needs that job desperately, he needs money to turn the air conditioner on, the hot water back on, for his next binge.

“Do you not have enough money for things? Like food?"

“No. I’m alright for now. I’m not completely out, just running low.”

Richie nods and feels satisfied as he sees Eddie eating. The boy looks hungry, munching down on the granola bar like it’s the only thing he’s had in days, and maybe it is. “I want you to come stay with me. And not just for a few nights like last time, or when you needed it. I mean you can come stay with us and we can get you a bed until your mom comes back.”

Eddie used to be so afraid of the loneliness of his house, but now he looks forward to it. There’s nobody here to pressure him about food, he can work out as much as he wants, and he hasn’t made his bed in what feels like ages. He likes this. He can’t leave this.

“Oh. No. I’m okay, Rich. Really. Look, I’m sure my mom will be home soon and everything will be back to normal.” Eddie turns to this Richie and grabs his hands. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.”

“That's the thing, Eddie. I can’t. I can’t stop worrying about you and I think about you all the time.”

Eddie takes his hands away quickly, placing them in his lap. “I-I-“

“No. Just stop talking and listen to me…” Richie stands up, pacing the space in front of Eddie. “Fuck! Eddie, you kissed me! And now I can’t stop fucking thinking about it!”

“I didn’t mean-“ Eddie feels like a different person saying this, lying to himself about saying that he didn’t mean to kiss Richie, and how he didn’t feel anything. He’s used to lying and betraying his own thoughts, of becoming his biggest abuser. Everything is so twisted in his mind he doesn’t know what’s real anymore. He doesn’t know how to cope with things correctly anymore.

“And you haven’t even wanted to actually talk about it! You just blew it off! How do you think I felt Eddie? Huh? Maybe I felt something different than you did!”

You have no idea… “I’m sorry, okay! I panicked!”

“And you don’t think I panicked when all of the sudden I had you up against me when I got out of the car?!”

“I was NOT all up against you! Don’t make me sound like that!”

“You can’t just do that to people Eddie! You can’t just throw yourself against people and then say something stupid like ‘Oh I panicked’, no! Fuck you!”

Eddies throat closes and his eyes narrow on Richie. “But I guess you don’t care…” Richie grumbles. “Sometimes I don’t even know who you are. You’ve changed, and I miss the old you. You’re always so tired and sad or distant. It sucks.”
Eddie stands up quickly, almost falling over. “SHUT UP! You don’t fucking know!”

“Why don’t you talk to me?! I thought we were best friends!”

“If you were my friend you would know to keep your nose out of places it should be!” I don’t know what I’m saying. This isn’t me. This isn’t me.

Keep Richie away. He’ll tear up your life. He’ll find out. This won’t be our secret anymore.

“Well then maybe I’m not your friend!” Richie shouts, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You’re not! YOU’RE NOT!” Eddie shouts back, pushing Richie. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Richie stumbles backward, looking down at Eddie, surprised at the strength his friend has. “Ed’s-“

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!”

Richie blinks three times before turning on his heel and leaving, walking quickly and with fire in his step to the front door, throwing it open, and slamming it behind him. He’s met with the even hotter afternoon temperature and his anger intensifies as he angrily bikes home.

Eddie just breaks.

He sinks into his bed, curling up in his orange bedcovers and waiting until his head hits the pillow before he lets the first tear slip. Then another, and another. Soon, he’s a wailing mess on his bed, crying loudly into the emptiness of his house because nobody can hear him.

He turns over, his hand reaching for the box of tissues on his nightstand when it reaches paper instead. Eddie raises his head, looking at the green bill beneath his fingertips. Five dollars. His tears stop and it feels like in it’s place, an elephants weight settles on his chest, crushing him.

-x-

The cashier at the gas station looks at him with worried eyes when Eddie places the food on the counter. He’s sure his hair is messy and the redness and swelling in his eyes probably haven’t faded. He slides across the crumpled five dollar bill and the eight quarters he’s managed to find in his house. He hears the rustling of bags and when he looks up all of the food is in the bag and the cashier is reluctantly holding out his brown bag and Eddie takes it, turning on his heel, and quickly walking home.

His throat burns and his head feels like it’s going to burst. He lays on the cool bathroom floor, breathing heavily as the violent rush of blood to his head begins to calm. He slowly sits up, grabbing onto the sink for support as a giant head rush goes through them. He flushes the toilet and gurgles with mouthwash, then slowly walks to his bedroom.

He sleeps until 11 pm. Wakes up. Has a can of soup. And then goes to sleep again.

-x-

Richie rides his bike along the streets of Derry, his body pushing against the hot, heavy air. He looks down as he pedals, weaving along the empty streets and missing his car more than ever. He looks up when a car honks at him and quickly moves to the side of the street, glaring at the car as it passes.

Dickhead.

Richie approaches the diner as the smell of grease and comfort food hit his senses. He drops his bike on the sidewalk and walks into the diner, cool air conditioning meeting him. He looks ahead of him, seeing red hair and he walks forward, sliding into the seat across from Beverly. “Heya, pumpkin.”

“Richie!” Beverly smiles, sliding him a peanut butter milkshake, his favorite. “I ordered us the usual, burger and fries.”

Richie nodded and sips his milkshake, sighing. “I need to talk to you about Eddie. I just-“ He stirs his straw watching the whipped cream blend in with the peanut butter. “I don’t really have anybody to talk to, and I’m worried about him.”

Beverly nods. “Of course. Whats on your mind?”

“He’s been distant lately, and I think it’s because of his mother being gone. I invited him to stay at my house but he doesn’t he wants to stay alone in his house.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed he’s been distant too.”

“I went over today and he kinda just blew up at me.” Richie’s lip trembles and he feels his heart sink into his stomach. “I’m so worried about him Bev. Mike told me his cabinets are empty and he doesn’t have any food in his house. He doesn’t want to go out with us anymore, he’s changed. I don’t know what happened.”

Beverly furrows her eyebrows. “You said all his food is gone?”

“That’s what Mike said.”

Beverly taps the bottom of her milkshake glass, biting her lower lip. “How long has his mom been gone?”

“About three weeks now.”

Beverly fishes in her backpack, pulling out a wallet and then a polaroid. She passes it to Richie and Richie sees a picture of Eddie and Stan sitting on the edge of the cliff, not looking at the camera, but smiling. Richie looks at Eddie and his impulse to cry intensifies.

Eddie’s face is different, more rounded and pinch-able. There's a pinkish tint to his face and his jawline blends into his neck. His eyes are smaller and his arms are bigger. He’s not fat, not by any means. He’s just chunky, he has the ——baby—— look to him. He looks adorable and Richie wants to reach through the photo and wrap Eddie up in a hug and kiss all over his cheeks.

“Look at the date.”

June 13, 1989. Quarry.

That was over a month ago.“That was over a month ago.”

“Exactly. He’s lost a lot of weight.”

Sure, Richie’s noticed how his shirts don’t cling to his little tummy as much anymore. And how his shorts don’t fit as tightly around his bottom anymore. But he notices now, how his jawline protrudes, his eyes that have gotten bigger, his cheekbones. How skinny he is.

“I think— Richie, I think Eddie has an eating disorder.”

Richie looks up from the picture at Beverly. “What?”

“Remember after… It… how I lost a lot of weight.”

“Yeah. You weren’t eating enough.”

“I think Eddie is going through the same thing. But it is not like mine, where I was depressed and didn’t have the energy to eat, Eddie might be doing it intentionally, not noticing how skinny he’s getting. Or the damage he’s doing to himself.”

“How can he not know? When he looks in the mirror, he has to see how skinny he looks.”

“Some people can’t see it. I couldn’t see it until Ben told me how sick I looked. And sometimes I still struggle with it.”

Richie shakes his head. “No. No. I’ve seen him eat.”

“Sure, he’s eaten around us. But what about when he’s home? Like you said, Mike saw that he had no food.”

“I don’t believe it,” Richie says, although in the back of his mind he tries to remember all the times that they’ve had meals together this summer, and there's not a lot.

“I know it’s hard to take in. And it’s hard for him too. But we have to be there for him, especially you."

The waitress comes, placing plates of food in front of them. Richie stares at his fries and burger and feels sick. Because what if?  What if Eddie really does have an eating disorder and he’s not eating? He’s losing weight without noticing and soon he’ll be so skinny that his body will shut down, and he won’t even know.

“I-I-“ Richie says, finally, his tears spilling over his eyes.

Beverly stands up and slides into his booth, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know. I know.”

He feels like it’s his fault.

-x-

Days pass.

And Eddie doesn’t pick up the phone to call Richie, and the phone doesn’t ring. Eddie feels forgotten, and out of energy. His workouts cease to every other day, and he only gives a medium amount of effort versus putting everything he has into it.

It hurts to lay down, it hurts to stand up, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

He’s thankful for the rain that has succumbed Derry the past couple days, matching his depression and the soothing sounds lulling him to sleep. He wants to call Bill, Stan, Beverly, Mike, Ben, and Richie. He wants to splash in the puddles with them and invite them over so they all can watch movies. But he’s tired. And everyone hates him.

They’re probably not even friends anymore. He hasn’t been with them for so long.

He can’t bring himself to care, and that's what scares him the most.

When Eddie wakes up, the sun is out for the first time in days. He stretches across his bed and sleepily walks to his window, opening the blinds. There are people walking on the sidewalks, and children playing in the backyard, thankful for the sunlight and embracing it.

He leaves his blinds open, and with a newfound happiness, he turns to his messy room and decides to clean it. With Tears For Fears playing from his record player, he puts dirty clothes into his hamper and folds the unkempt clothes shoved in his dresser drawers. He fills up old water bottles with the tap, and places them in the refrigerator. Washes the dishes, takes out the trash, vacuums the living room while his clothes and sheets are in the washer.

The whole ordeal takes close to 3 hours and when he’s done he lays on his tidied bed and closes his eyes. The record stops playing, leaving him to listen to the sounds of the outside. The chirps of birds, families, the tapping of the tree branch outside against his window, the rumble of an old car.

It reminds him of Richie.

It reminds him of Richie!

Eddie quickly throws himself off his bed, sprinting to the front door, and throwing it open with a large smile on his face. He’s met with Richie, hair curly as always, wearing a new floral shirt and jeans, holding a bouquet of mixed flowers.

“I’m sorr-oof!”

Eddie flings himself at Richie, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in Richie’s warm neck. Richie hugs him back, pressing his nose into Eddie’s curls. Missing the vanilla scent they gave off. “I missed you,” Richie mumbles and he feels Eddie’s smile grow against his neck.

“I missed you more.”

Richie, still hugging Eddie, shuffles inside closing the door behind them. “I’m so sorry.”

Eddie pulls away from Richie’s neck, still wrapped in his embrace. Eddie peers into Richie’s eyes and moves his hands to his cheeks where he rubs his thumbs over his freckles. “No. I’m sorry— I was just in a terrible mood and I took it out on you.” Richie nods and pushes the flowers into Eddie’s chest.

“That’s alright, Ed’s. I get it. I got you these flowers though.” Eddie grins and takes them, sniffing them.

“They’re beautiful.”

They hug again and constantly tell each other how much they missed one another, how they will never do this again, and they will talk through everything.

“Get your little self dressed, I’m taking you to the Quarry.”

Eddie giggles and places the flowers down on the kitchen counter before rushing off to his room. Listening to Richie humming in the living room and smiling to himself.

Richie’s back.

-x-

They jump off the cliff together, and Richie holds Eddie against him in the water, doing accents and tickling his sides, noticing how tiny and smooth they are. His curves dip more and he can feel Eddie's ribcage when he holds him. He’s so little.

Later, they bask in the sun, laying against a rock and holding each other's hands.

Richie’s hands completely wrap around Eddie’s and he wonders if he’s hurting him, so he loosens his hold, but Eddie squeezes, as an indication for Richie to hold his hands tighter.

“Do you want to go get ice cream?” I need to see you eat. “I brought money.”

Please. Please. Please. Please. Richie doesn’t want to believe it, he wants Eddie to be okay.

“Oh, no. I’m okay. I had something to eat before you came over.”

He wants Eddie to be okay.

-x-

Richie picks up the phone that night, his nose running and tears covering his cheeks.

“Hello?” Beverly asks.

Richie just cries.

Chapter Text

-x-

Eating Disorders in Teens
Eating Disorders: There's more than just one
Eating Disorders and Their Effects

Richie had never spent so long inside of a library, and after three hours of being inside of one, it seemed like his brain was a large grey cloud sitting on his shoulders. He didn't know how Ben could do it. 

There was a large stack of books in front of him, and he had gone through them all, but he still felt uneducated and hopeless when it came to Eddie.

How do you tell somebody to eat when it is their biggest struggle? How do you care for somebody who doesn’t want to be cared for? How do you tell somebody that they’re perfect when they don’t like themselves at all?

Richie could feel tears burning in his eyes, so he quickly gathered his things and moved outside, gasping for air once he could breathe again. Richie moves and sits on the steps outside of the library, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them, tears bubbling from the sides of his eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do, he feels impotent when it comes to Eddie. He read three books but he knows nothing about eating disorders or what Eddie is thinking. Does he even know that he has one?

Then he feels pathetic and guilty for sitting here and crying, probably looking like a pussy to everybody who walks by. It’s like he’s trying to take the worry from Eddie and put it on himself. He stands and walks to his truck, flipping the engine with no direct destination in mind— he just drives. It’s freezing, and he rolls the windows down, the wind softly hitting his arm.

Three hours later, he’s knocking on the door of Bill’s house, desperately low on gas but also with an idea that might work. “H-hey, R-Richie.” He says opening the door.

“Big Bill! Do you happen to have any spare gas lying around?”

“My dad might have some, let me check.” Bill disappears into the kitchen and Richie stands with his hands in his pockets in his sitting room. The inside of Bill’s house is dark but has a certain warmth to it. The natural light from outside always finds its way inside, shining on brown living room couches and old lady rugs. His house always smelled like a burning fireplace, but Richie only saw their fireplace lit during the winter.

His parents weren’t the kindest, but they allowed The Losers Club to take up Bill’s room for days at a tie, so they weren’t the worst. Richie looks over the pictures on the wall, frowning when he sees Georgie. Bill’s parents have almost let their youngest son go, and Richie is sure that this is probably the only picture they have of him.

Two years ago, he and Bill watched as his parents sold Georgie’s bedroom and all of his toys at their garage sale. Bill cried and Richie held him for a long time. Georgie’s bedroom is an office now, and Bill has never gone inside of it.

“Richie?” “Rich!” Richie tears his eyes away from the pictures to Bill who is holding a red tank, barely able to keep it raised. “I have gas. Do you n-need help?”

Richie nodded and they both walked down to Richie’s car, opening the gas and tilting the tank to fill up the car. “Hey, Bill?”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Um… I was wondering, if it is okay with you, of course, if maybe we could have a sleepover here? Like one of those group sleepovers that we always had in June? Eddie has been really down lately and I don’t know how to cheer him up. Oh God, I probably sound like a rude dick, don’t I? I’m so sorr-“

“Richie.” Bill smiles. “I-It’s f-fine. I would l-love that.”

Richie smiles back and they both finish filling Richie’s car. Bill invites him inside for lemonade and asks if Richie wants to play Mario on his video game system, Richie’s answer is obviously yes.

“Hey, before we start, is it okay if I use your phone? I just want to check on Eddie.”

“S-Sure, g-go ahead.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Richie says, walking over to Bill’s phone and dialing Eddie’s number. The phone line rings a few times and Richie shifts on the other end, waiting impatiently for Eddie to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ed’s,” Richie says, softly smiling from hearing Eddie’s soft voice. He loved the boy more than he could explain or put into words, so much that it scared him.

“Hi, Richie. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to Bill’s tonight for a sleepover.”

Eddie is silent for a minute, trying to formulate an excuse. He knows how sleepovers go, they eat hundreds and hundreds of calories of junk food, and while everybody else is fine with it… Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It scares him.

Just the thought of it scares him.

“I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeeee, it would be so much fun. We all miss you, Eddie.”

“I just-“ Eddie sighs. “Okay, fine. Fine.”

“Really? Yes!” Richie exclaims. “Okay, great! I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Yup,” Eddie says, biting back tears. “See you tonight.”

Richie feels like he’s going forward.

Eddie feels like he’s falling backwardsabackwardsbackwards and he doesn’t know when he’ll hit the bottom.

-x-

They order pizza. Of course, they order pizza.

Eddie prepared himself for this very moment, he ran today despite having no energy, he fasted all day up until this point. He knew what the sleepover food would entail, but he still has to fight off anxiety.

Richie wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie breaks away from his thoughts, giving his best friend a small smile. It feels like there's been no time between the last sleepover Eddie has been apart of, and it’s comforting. He knows he’s been gone from their friend group for a while and he was worried things would be awkward, but they’re not.

He laughs with them, jokes with them, helps Bill get out the plates, but he’s so scared of eating with them.

The Losers grab pizza without any thought, placing it on their plates and eating, but for Eddie, it’s a challenge. He doesn’t want to grab one. If he has one…. he might as well have the whole fucking box.

“Here, Spaghetti Man.” Richie says, placing a slice of cheese pizza on Eddie’s paper plate, he stares at it with wide eyes. Oblivious to Richie and Beverly who are staring at Eddie, waiting for him to eat.

Richie breaks his stare first, looking down at his plate, trying not to cry.

Eddie picks up the pizza and takes a small bite, feeling the cheese sit on his tongue before chewing it. 15 times on the right, 15 times on the left, 20 times altogether, swallow, three gulps of water. Then he waits, he counts to 100. 15 times on the right, 15 times on the left, 20 times altogether, swallow, three gulps of water.

It takes him 15 minutes to finish a slice of cheese pizza, and he can’t even focus on the movie, he’s so indulged in how many times he chews and the size of his bites. Eddie leaves the crust, saving himself from unneeded calories, and then Richie puts more pizza on his plate.

He feels like a child, being fed like a parent. He feels the control slipping from his fingers and Richie taking it from him. Eat more. Eat more. Eat more.

Richie wants you to be fat. Richie wants to make you fat because he HATES YOU!

His movements are robotic and could go unnoticed to the untrained eye, but it seems like everybody is watching him eat, even though everybody is looking at the TV screen. It’s another 15 minutes for Eddie to finish the second slice and he moves his plate to the coffee table with everyone else and sits on his hands.

Richie looks over at Eddie from the other couch, seeing a plate with two perfectly untouched crusts, and Eddie…sitting on his hands? He watches Eddie for a little while, fidgeting and shaking his leg.

He stands up and catches Eddie's eyes beckoning him to follow into the kitchen. When he gets there he turns around, resting his back on one of the counters. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Why? What’s wrong?”

Richie shakes his head, curls hitting the sides of his face. “Nothing, I’m just worried about you.” He says and Eddie looks alarmed at the comment.

“Why? Everything’s okay, you don’t have to be worried about me.”

“I just am…. you barely ate-“

“I had two slices of pizza, I did eat and I’m really full now, and I don’t want to eat anymore.” Eddie rattles off, words coming from his mouth at a fast and alarming rate. Eddie feels the anxiety creeping in like wet humidity and he clenches his fists, trying to calm himself down.

“It took you almost 45 minutes, Eddie.”

“Sorry! I’m just a slow eater! What do you want me to do about it?”

“You didn’t use to be…”

“Ugh! Richie! Can you just get off my ass? God, it’s so annoying. Everybody is fucking worried about me, always asking if I’m okay or how I’m feeling. I’m fine, cant you see?”

Richie’s anger spills over the edge and he can’t stop himself from stepping forward and seizing Eddie by the shoulders. “No! I can’t see! Because you look sick Eddie. And I don’t think you’re eating enough.” He’s shocked when he says it, and he is unsure what to do after he does.
He slowly takes his hands off Eddie’s arms and sighs. “I’m sorry. You just- you don’t-“

Eddie angrily wipes away a tear and turns on his heel without any words to Richie, crosses the living room, and walks out of Bill’s house, slamming the door behind him. Richie stands speechless in Bill’s kitchen until Beverly runs in.

“What just happened?”

Richie can’t speak and his chest feels tight. Beverly steps forward, softly calling out his name again, Richie sees her pink socks come into his line of vision and he throws his arms around her, crying into her red hair.

The others watch from the archway into the kitchen, watching as Richie breaks into Beverly’s arms.

-x-

Beverly convinces Richie to go after Eddie, Eddie doesn’t stay mad for very long and it would be a good time to talk to each other— just them. So Richie leaves the sleepover, apologizing to everybody and counting on Beverly to explain the situation to them, and gets into his truck, driving in the darkness to Eddie’s house.

He doesn’t know what to say, and every sentence that he plans to say sounds wrong. His hands grip the steering wheel and he drives slowly, still thinking. Everything is a mess. He turns onto Eddie’s street and sees Eddie’s house dark, all the lights off. He hesitates to turn back, going home and laying in bed.

He can’t. He can’t just ignore whats going on.

He parks and gets out of his truck, dragging himself to the dark house and raising a fist to knock on the door. When his knuckles hit the wood, the door creeks open. Richie steps inside quietly and closes the door behind him. He looks down and sees Eddies converse laying by the door, his sweater fallen there too.

Richie steps forward and looks down the hall, a light coming from the bathroom. His stomach drops and he takes slow movements towards the sound of gasping and crying. He stops halfway down the hall and holds his breath to listen.

He hears choking, then retching… vomiting.

He lets a breath out.

Choking, retching, vomiting. Sobbing.

He walks towards the bathroom door now and stands outside of it. This is none of my business. He’s going to hate me.

I don’t care.

“Oh, Eddie.”

There he is. His Eddie. Baby. Light. Every-fucking-thing, with his hand down his throat, eyes pinched and shirtless, kneeling over the toilet. His hands are covered in vomit and he can see it on the corners of Eddie’s mouth. There are so many tears covering his sweet face and Richie sees the bruises that cover his tummy. His small tummy.

“Ruh-Richie-“ Eddie chokes out, gasping for air and coughing up more.

“No,” Richie says, kneeling next to Eddie and taking his hand away from his mouth. “No, baby. Please no.” Bulimia nervosa, often called bulimia, is a type of eating disorder. People with bulimia eat large amounts of food at one time, then try to get rid of the food or weight gain by throwing up, taking laxatives, fasting (not eating anything), or exercising a lot more than normal.

Richie pulls Eddie against him, Eddie’s back pressed against Richie’s chest. Eddie is frozen, he doesn’t know what to do. Richie saw him— he’s seeing him, covered in his own vomit. He wants to curl into a ball and hide from the embarrassment, to make Richie forget this happened.

You’re so fucking stupid. How could you?

He’s so scared of Richie, of what he’s going to do.

Richie holds him.

Oh.

Eddie brings his knees to his chest and Richie’s long arms wrap around his whole body, rocking him and shushing his loud crying. “I love you so much. Please. Please. Please stop.”

I can’t stop.

Richie is holding him, saying all of these things to him, but all Eddie can fixate on is how he didn’t throw up all of his pizza. It’s still in him. The pizza is still in him. THE PIZZA IS STILL IN HIM.

THEPIZZAISSTILLINME.

PIZZA

PIZZA

PIZZA

PIZZA

PIZZA

PIZZA

PIZZA.

“You need to breathe Eddie.”

He’s on the counter now. How did I get on the counter? Richie is wiping his face with a wet towel and he can see the wet strings of regurgitated cheese. Richie takes Eddie’s hands now, cleaning them softly and rubbing circles over his red and bruised knuckles.

“You’re not breathing. Hey.” Richie lifts his chin and looks into Eddie’s watering eyes. “In and out. Can you do it with me?”

Richie breathes. Eddie tries. Richie breathes. Eddie can’t exhale as long. Richie breathes. Eddie breathes. “There you go, baby boy. You got it. Keep doing that okay?”

Eddie nods and watches Richie, cleaning up his mess. It’s so humiliating. “Can I brush your teeth?”

Eddie shakes his head and Richie’s brows furrow. “It’s- It’s not good for your teeth. I rise with- with mouthwash first and brush my teeth in the morning…”

“Why?”

“The acid. Brushing your teeth only rubs it in more, it was in one of the textbooks I read.”

“You read a textbook on vomiting?”

“Stomach acid…. I don’t want my teeth to fall out.” Eddie says and Richie’s face falls.

Eddie rinses with mouthwash and Richie doesn’t leave his side. He can feel Richie’s eyes on his stomach and he just wants to cover up, he doesn’t want Richie to see how fat he is. Richie gets a large shirt and puts Eddie’s head through it, talking softly to him the whole time.

“Can we talk about it?” Richie asks, sitting next to Eddie.

“I’m not ready.” Eddie responds and Richie holds his hand.

“I know you’re not going to stop. But I want you to know that I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Eddie turns to Richie and raises his purging hand to touch Richie's cheek and tuck his hair behind his ear, scratched and bitten, dried blood dotted around his knuckle. “That’s all I need.”

Chapter Text

-x-

Eddie meets up with the losers the next day and as soon as he sees Mike’s face he wants to strangle him or ignore him— to be on the calmer side. Mike broke a promise, one of the number one rules of friendship. It angers Eddie so much, he made Mike promise, and he just blew him off like that.

But Mike also fulfilled another promise of friendship that’s also one of the top rules… Don’t let your friends starve themselves to death. So instead, Eddie smiles at Mike. Mike notices and steps forward, slowly extending his arms. He was always a hugger.

Eddie hugs Mike tightly and presses his face into Mike’s chest, trying to stop himself from crying. Then as soon as Bill sees them hugging, he joins in, then Stan, Richie,

“Dammit Tozier, why are you so tall?”
“Why are you so short?”

Beverly, and Ben. Eddie lets a tear slide down his cheek and giggles beneath the weight of his friends, surrounded by love and warmth. He feels like he can finally breathe again.

For now, at least.

-x-

He isn’t stupid enough to think Richie knowing about his eating disorder is going to cure him… in all honesty, he doesn’t know how things are going to change now that he knows. Though he feels less alone… and he likes that feeling.

They’re sitting on the bank of the river, bare feet being brushed by the cool stream of water that trickles down the river. Eddie’s never taken notice of how truly beautiful Derry can be during the summer. The leaves are exceptionally green now, rustling against each other and falling into the water beneath them. The grass is dying in some spots, but in others, it is warm and lively. Eddie lays back, his back making contact with the warm grass, basked in sunlight.

Richie lays down also, his hands behind his head. “Ed’s?”

Eddie smirks at the nickname, wanting to reprimand him for using it. “Yes, Richie?”

“Can I ask you some questions about… you know…“

Eddie laughs. “You can say it, Rich. An eating disorder. It’s not a bad word, and like you would care… you cuss like a sailor.”

Richie scoffs. “Whatever, I do not. But, okay, can I ask you questions about your eating disorder?”

“Yeah… yeah. I want you to know.”

“You do?”

“You said you were here for me, and I like knowing that you’re here.”

“I was here from the beginning… I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I’m so sorry, Ed’s.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t want you to know… I’ve actually been keeping it a secret for a while now. It’s a relief to not always be covering it up anymore.”

“How long?”

“I’ve been losing the same 10 pounds and gaining it for a year now, but it took over my life in June.”

“That's… two months… how can I not have noticed?”

Eddie frowns. “I can’t notice either. I still think I look huge.“

Richie sits up and looks down on Eddie. “You’re not huge. You-You’re skinny!”

“Skinny?” A sense of accomplishment overcomes Eddie and he feels a smile grow on his lips, spreading. This is the first time somebody has called him that… skinny. He loves it. He wants to wrap the word around himself over and over again, skinnyskinnyskinny. Richie called me skinny!

Richie’s eyes grow wide. “I-I-“ Richie runs a hand through his hair realizing the effect of the words he just said. He could motivate him. “You’re just… you’re not fat.”

But the feeling doesn’t leave Eddie, he doesn’t want to push away the happiness and the triumph. He just wants Richie’s acceptance, love, he wants Richie to say he’s skinny over and over again until his voice goes numb and there is nothing left for Richie to say.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“W-What do you… do?” Richie asks, then cringes. “I’m sorry I feel so stupid asking this kind of stuff.”

“No, it’s okay. Well, I mostly… restrict. Sometimes I binge or eat a lot of food. Then I’ll usually… throw it up or exercise.”

“When you say restrict-“

“I usually only eat small dinners and a snack.”

“How small?”

“Probably 150 calories or less?”

Richie takes in a long breath. He can’t imagine eating that little… but this isn’t about him. “How much do you normally eat in a day?”

“It depends. Sometimes I need to raise how much I eat so I don’t pass out or binge because I’m so hungry.” Eddie feels weird, rattling off these rules that he has. They sound absurd when he says them out loud, but these are the rules that comfort him, that formulate his life.

The rules that he would protect with everything that he has.

Richie takes Eddie’s hand in his, slipping his fingers in-between Eddie’s and rubbing his thumb across his skin. He’s so beautiful. Eddie gazes up at him, as the golden sun comes in through his sparatic curls, reflecting in his large glasses, and dusting along the infinite freckles that cluster on his nose and cheeks. He counts two on his lips.

“I’m here for you. And I want to help you, in whatever way.” Richie says, his hands tepid against Eddie’s balmy ones. He ignores his insecurities in his hand and just… holds Richie’s.

“Thank you.”

They both smile.

-x-

They all sleep in the bed of Richie’s truck that night, spooned against each other as Louis 34X1 flies across the sky. Beverly’s brought out her old telescope and Mike runs around with 4-year-old sparkers, the fire sparkling around him in yellow flashes. Eddie sits in one of the trees, peering through the leaves to see the sky.

He can hear the radio from Richie’s truck, “We suspect the comet to land somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.”

“I hope they’ve warned the islands about tsunami’s…” Beverly says taking the telescope from Stan.

“I-I-I don't th-think it’s go-going to be b-big enough for t-that.” Bill says.

“Maybe… but even the smallest things can have effects.”

“Jeez, Bev. Way to get morbid.” Richie laughs, stomping out a cigarette with his shoes. Eddie looks down from his spot in the branches and grins at Richie who blows him a kiss. Eddie catches it and throws it back.

“Oh, oh!” Beverly shouts, jumping up and down. “I think I see it! I think I see it!”

Eddie looks up and he expects it to be bigger, but he can still perceive it. It’s a small line of white stretching and stretching and it hurts his eyes to try and see it stretch. So he just watches it cross the sky in a little white flash.

Maybe his mother is looking at the same comet… wherever she is. It doesn’t matter now… because he’s sleeping on the cot beside Richie’s bed, right next to the record player so he can listen to whatever records he wants to at night, staring up at glow in the dark stickers that spell out “Penis.”

Ben adjusts the radio and jumps from the car to the grass and stands beside his girlfriend, placing an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. “Make a wish, everybody.”

“That’s for shooting stars…” Stan says.

“Well then make a statement I guess…”
Eddie wishes to lose weight… surprisingly enough. Then he looks down on Richie who is laying in the dark grass, looking at the sky.

Eddie wishes for a way to tell Richie he loves him.

The radio crackles from the poor signal they receive this deep in the woods, but it doesn’t falter the mood… Eddie can still pick up the lyrics from a song he heard so, so long ago.

“I don't know what it is that makes me love you so
I only know I never want to let you go
'Cause you started something, can't you see
That ever since we met you've had a hold on me
I happens to be true, I only want to be with you”

-x-

Eddie goes home to check the mail every Wednesday after he gets off work from his new job. He sits on the porch reading the letter addressed to him, opening it and watching the paper enclosed unfold by itself.

Edward Kaspbrak

10th Grade, Sophomore Year Supplies List

He groans and places his head between his knees. He can’t deal with school right now… he doesn’t even want to think about it. The thought just stresses him out and makes him want to binge.

He’s not been well in terms of eating these past couple days, somehow the Tozier family eats a full 3 meals a day and doesn’t gain weight. Richie and Wentworth are still beanpoles… and Richie’s mother just drinks but she’s still skinny. Like… admirably skinny. Eddie spends a lot of time doing this.

He’s been nicking Richie’s cigarettes for a while now, smoking them when Richie is dead asleep and sitting on the windowsill. He looks forward to those quiet moments every night where its just Eddie, his cigarettes, and whatever artist is on the record player. He kicks his legs against the side of Richie’s house, grass tickling the bottom of Eddie’s bare feet.

He hasn’t noticed anything physically… only that the cigarettes make him sleepy, and it’s hard for him to sleep without them.

Eddie tries not to notice the fluctuation in the size of his stomach or that when he leans over he can’t see as much through the space between his thighs. He also can’t hold onto his ribcage anymore when he lays down. All of these things scare him… but he can’t stop binging.

Binging by eating his entire plate of breakfast, his entire plate of lunch, and his entire plate of dinner. And sometimes these meals aren’t even healthy… most of them are microwaved meals and tasting of fake meat and slimy rice. He feels so disgusting.

There’s no scale in Richie’s house and he wants to go inside of his own and weigh himself right now, but he knows that the weight will be wrong. He’s had breakfast and a lot of water already… the weight wouldn’t be accurate. He places a hand on his stomach and squeezes, the skin bunching in-between his fingers. Eddie bites his lip to stop a sob. He has to get back on track. I have to get back on track.

But how does he do that when Richie watches over him like a hawk? Making sure he’s eating every meal. Even when they’re out with the other losers, Richie watches him.

He finds himself hoping his mother will come home… only so he can fall back into his schedule of restricting. Running. Sleeping. Restricting. Running. Sleeping.

-x-

“These are The Smiths, Ed’s. They’re a good band.” Richie says, placing his headset over Eddie’s ears. Eddie looks down at the walkman in Richie’s hands as Richie presses down the play button. Music fills Eddie’s head and it’s a light, happy beat. One that makes him smile.

“Take me out, tonight.
Where there’s music and there are people and they’re young and alive.
Driving in your car,
I never never want to go home,
because I haven't got one anymore”

Eddie places his hands on top of Richie’s and wraps his fingers around Richie’s hands. He can’t hear how loud he’s breathing… or the swallowing sounds coming from Richie. He can only hear The Smiths… and it didn’t occur to him that maybe they should’ve done this sooner.

Eddie looks up into Richie’s never-ending brown eyes, licking his lips. “I didn’t kiss you just because I was scared.”

He can’t hear himself say it because the music is too loud, but he knows that he said it because he can see the surprise in Richie’s eyebrows.

Eddie moves his hands to Richie’s cheeks and steps forward. “I kissed you because you’re fucking hot.”

Richie leans into Eddie and looks into his eyes one more time, before kissing him. Richie’s lips are wet against Eddie’s and Eddie smiles into the kiss, moving backward until the back of his legs hit Richie’s bed. Richie pushes Eddie down and he lays back among Richie’s bedsheets, never breaking their kiss.

Richie’s curls tickle Eddie’s face and his giggles. “Tickles.” Eddie manages to say, tugging on one of Richie’s curls.

“You’re too fucking cute,” Richie says after knocking off the headset, attaching their lips once more.

This is bliss.

-x-

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Chee?”

“What are we?”

“…what?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you wanted to take things seriously or not…”

“I’ve been kissing you non-stop for two hours. Your mom has walked in here twice.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

Eddie sighs and turns over, breaking their spooning position. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I don’t know…”

Eddie scoffs. “You sound like a seventh grader.” Eddie raises his voice. ——“Do you like-like me, Richie?”

Richie smirks and kisses Eddie. “Very. Make that a like-like-like.”

“Well, I like-like-like you too. And I would like-like-like-like to be your boyfriend.”

“Cool beans,” Richie says, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck.

“Cool beans? Are you serious?” Eddie laughs.

“Wanna high five on it?” Richie asks, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on Eddie’s neck.

“Shut up. I’m going to break up with you.”

Eddie wonders when Richie places a hand on Eddie’s tummy if he should’ve eaten breakfast. He could’ve just said he wasn’t hungry. Richie knows I’m fat. He’s euphoric… he’s gotten what he’s wanted all this time. Richie Tozier. To love him.

Hell. Fucking. YES!

But it’s not enough to make him happy. Not when he’s this fat.

-x-

He and Richie are driving back from Mike’s farm, the windows down and head bobbing to The Smiths. Eddie reaches for Richie’s hand and Richie take’s Eddie’s, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. The losers were thrilled when they found out about the new couple, all cheering for them and demanding to see them kiss.

“Gee-whiz, get a playboy magazine you losers!

They’re two lovesick idiots, constantly holding hands, cuddling, kissing. Richie lives to make Eddie happy and Eddie soaks up every minute. The cot beside Richie’s bed is gone now, the two sharing Richie’s bed, spooning in their boxers every night.

They haven’t… had sex. Honestly, Eddie hasn’t even thought about it, being so thrilled with how things are going now. But now that he’s thinking of it…

Then he thinks of his body. His big. Disgusting body. The minute Richie sees Eddie without clothes, truly naked, he’ll never want to see Eddie again. Richie doesn’t deserve a fat cow.

God, he really needs to lose weight. And quickly.

Richie turns the car and they pass through Eddie’s neighborhood, watching mothers push their children in strollers on the sidewalk and younger kids playing hopscotch in their driveway. Eddie is looking out of the window, counting the houses until his… but he almost misses it.

It takes a minute before he realizes why.

Richie slows the car and Eddie doesn’t hear what he says, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

There's a car in the driveway.

His mother's car.

Chapter Text

-x-

“Mom?” Eddie says, entering his house. There's a trash bag of dirty clothes sitting in by the door and Eddie looks through the kitchen seeing his large mother sitting at their small kitchen table sorting through bills that Eddie left there.

She’s even… bigger now. Her large hands consume almost the entire envelopes and her glasses appear small on her face, the rims pressing against her cheekbones. Her curly hair is greasy and unkempt, along with the build-up across her face.

Her eyes move to meet Eddie when she notices him standing there, and she sighs. “Be a dear Eddie and fix me some pasta.”

Eddie’s eyebrows press together as he feels he’s about to fall over from shock any minute. She’s gone for a month, and she comes back, asking for pasta? He wishes he hadn’t told Richie to go home, that he would call him after talking to his mother. He could really use his boyfriend’s comfort right now. Boyfriend. He bites the inside of his cheek from smiling when he says it in his head.

“Eddie?”

Eddie steps into the kitchen. “We don’t have any pasta, mom. All of the food is gone.”

“Why is it all gone, Eddie?”

“Because it all went bad due to your lack of food shopping and the fact that I don’t have $100 to keep our kitchen stocked with your food.”

Sonia Kaspbrak places her head in her hands. “Don’t tell me you did that starving thing that you did when you were a child.”

Starving thing? Eddie will admit it, 1/2 of his starving thing is because he chooses too, he knows how quickly the weight will fall off and frankly he loves the high he gets and how in control he feels. But the other half is because there IS no food for him to eat, he ran out of safe foods a day before he started sleeping over at Richie’s house.

“You mean… you didn’t go and get food for yourself and your child? That thing?”

She glares at Eddie with a fire in her eyes, almost burning into him. He almost backs down, apologizing to his mother and then obeying her. Like he always does. But he’s not standing for it anymore, she’s not going to walk over him, blaming her personal struggles on him. He has his own to deal with.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been gone for a month, and you left me nothing. Not even a note. I’ve been living off the $70 under your pillow and the money that I’ve saved up. See these lights?” Eddie walks over to the light switch and switches them on and off, nothing happening. “They’re off. Because I don’t have money to pay the bills, I am a child."

Eddie walks over to the sink next turning the hot water on. “Wait for it, wait for it, oh. There’s no hot water either.”

Sonia watches him with tiny eyes behind her glasses, anger boiling in her blood. “How dare you-“

“No! How dare YOU?! You’ve left me alone, your child. I’m only fifteen, mom. You really fucking think I can pay the bills and shit while you’re gone?!” Eddie yells, taking the dish rag folded against the side of the sink and throwing it on the floor.

“I’m staying with my friend, Richie. Remember him? Yeah. He’s the one who has been taking care of me while you’re off screwing around someplace, leaving your child behind.”

“That kid is a MESS! Why would you EVER spend time with him? I told you to stay away from him.”

“That's funny. I guess your little rules I left behind too. Because guess what?” Eddie smirks and folds his arms across his chest. “He fucked the hell out of me. So… screw you, Sonia.”

Snap. Eddie is surprised at the speed of his mother getting out of the dining room chair and lunging for him. Luckily, Eddie isn’t tip-toeing the lines of 400 pounds, he actually doesn’t know how much he weighs, and ducks underneath her arms, running to his room.

He locks the door behind him, pressing his back against the wood. He can feel his mothers thundering footsteps coming down the hall, her loud breathing overtopping it. It sounds like wheezing. Then her large fists hitting the door, pounding on it. “Eh-“ Wheeze. “dee.” Wheeze. “Kaspbrak!” Wheeze. “You open-“ Wheeze. “This goddamn door RIGHT NOW!”

Eddie crosses his room, sitting on his bed and staring at his closet, most of his outfits gone and tucked somewhere in Richie’s bedroom.

“You little FAGGOT! You are NOT going back to that kid's house AGAIN!” Sonia slurs. The F-word hits Eddie’s ears and it’s deafening. He knew it would spite her, that's why he said it. He and Richie didn’t have sex… they kissed… a lot. But they didn’t have sex.

Eddie dips his head when she says it again, trying not to cry. He doesn’t care for his mother, but the word is still a knife to his heart. How many other people will say the same thing to him when he goes back to school? He doesn’t want everybody to think of them that way.

He doesn’t want people to think he’s disgusting.

Eddie doesn’t call Richie that night when his mother is snoring in the living room, the sounds of late night talk shows echoing through his home. He doesn’t do much, actually. He flips through three comic books and takes a shower, then goes to bed. Well, he stares at his ceiling for a while… a hard feeling in his chest.

-x-

Eddie breaks out his scale the next morning, stripping himself of all of his clothes. He takes a shaky breath and steps on. He looks forward at the bathroom shower curtain, the blue stripes running down the old fabric. It’s yellowing at the edges and the bathroom smells like vomit and mildew. He hates this fucking house.

Eddie slowly looks down…

-x-

He decides to just take a shower, let the water run over him, the hot water. It’s back on now. He heard his mother calling the company last evening, giving her credit card number and demanding it to be on now.

He rubs the push pin that was tacked into one of his posters between his fingers, letting the water wash away the remains of the drywall, staring at the pointed tip and biting his lip. He doesn’t want to use a razor, he’s new to this. And he’s scared of bleeding out… logically he wouldn't.. but it’s still a fear etched in his mind.

He brings the pushpin to his thigh, resting his foot on the edge of the tub and twisting his body so he can see the side of his thigh, pressing the point to his wet skin.

First, there's pain, then a sweet sweet relief. It settles in his chest like relieving an itch, it’s not cold, and it’s not warm. It’s perfect.

One-Three-Six-Point-Seven.

He traces over the numbers again, and again, each time with more intensity until he sees beads of blood breaking through. He doesn’t wash them away, he does it again, then decides he wants more.

He makes straight lines on his wrist, then little scratches, then diagonal lines, then little scratches. The other arm is next. These bleed too.

He takes the pin to his hips now, digging the point into the skin.

His entire body is itching now, leading him where to dig next. He doesn’t feel the pain, he just sees the blood trickling and feels relief. Inside of his head, there’s a voice, whispering to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and patting him on the back. “This is what you get for gaining that much weight.

Nine pounds to be exact.

136.7.  The bleeding numbers on his thighs are reminders.

-x-

The only reason Eddie isn’t alone right now is that Richie threw rocks at Eddie’s window until he was scared it would break, and then proceeded to try and gracefully climb through the window, but he actually just fell face first onto the floor.
“Nice, trashmouth.”

“Thanks, babe.” Eddie cringes, remembering his mother's words. There's no denying that he loves Richie, but he’s scared of the names, the looks, he’s scared of being gay. How does he conceal these feelings, how does he push Richie out of his mind without breaking him?

Eddie has been friends with Richie for as long as he can remember, and one thing he knows is that Richie’s jokester and "I don’t give a fuck" attitude is all show. Richie is very sensitive and loves deeply. You can kick him and kick him but he will still end up back at your doorstep, apologizing for something you did. He knows this. His mother did it to him when he was fourteen when he was caught smoking in his bedroom.

Eddie wants to cry, he doesn’t want to.

One side of his brain is hopelessly in love with Richie, willing to walk on broken glass for him. The other is stained by self-hatred.

He goes towards his door and locks it, breathing in deeply before looking at Richie. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you.”

Richie’s face falls when he sees Eddie’s do the same. “What happened?”

Eddie shakes his head, keeping his hand on the doorknob, he needs something to grip onto. “Everything. My mom. It’s just this huge shit hole."

Richie takes a step towards him, then another. Eddie is predicting that he’ll be pressed into a long hug in seconds, but instead, Richie softly places his hand on Eddie’s and takes it off the door, leading him to sit on the bed.

“Talk to me.”

Eddie fumbles with his sleeves, the ends of them falling near his knuckles. He’s undeniably hot, it’s summer and here he is in long sleeves and long shorts, he must look so stupid. He’s covering not only his body but his wrists and thighs that are covered in cuts. “I don’t know what to say.”

Richie places his hand on Eddie’s knee, the one that he’s bouncing up and down. It’s a habit— fidgeting. He started it when his eating disorder became something daily that he lived with, it’ll burn more calories. Or so he believes.

The fidgeting slows and Eddie keeps his head down, not ready to look him in the eyes.“You little FAGGOT!” 

“When I came inside she was sitting at the table going through all the bills and she just looked at me and told her to make pasta. She didn’t apologize, she didn’t tell me where she had gone. She started with her demands.

“Then I told her that all of our food was gone, and she started arguing with me. She asked if I was doing ‘that starving thing’ that I did when I was a child.”

“You’ve had anorexia for that long?”

“I don’t have anorexia, Richie. I told you. I weigh too much.”

Eddie feels Richie’s heated gaze on the back of his neck. “Eddie…” He says, anger hinting at his voice. He hates it when Eddie puts himself down and doesn’t stand for it. Just a couple days ago when Eddie made a fat joke about himself Richie got angry and stood with Eddie at the mirror, complimenting him.

It only turned him on. He didn’t tell Richie that but he wondered if he noticed.

“After my father died, my mother was extremely depressed and never left the house to get groceries. I got really thin, the only thing I would eat is the shitty free lunches at school, and I would go weekends without food.”

“You never told me this.”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t think about it a lot.”

“Anyways, I didn’t tell her about what I do… to myself. But I told her that my ‘starving thing’ was because of her, and the fact that she doesn’t buy food, and that she left me. Then I told her, well, showed her that nothing was working. The lights wouldn’t go on, or the hot water. I told her that I was staying with you and she got angry.”

Richie chuckles. “Yeah. She never did like me.”

Eddie tries not to think about it, and he’s thankful for Richie holding back a mom joke. He would’ve probably done something he regretted, like, stabbing him with the pair of safety scissors on his desk.

“Then… it just slipped-“ Eddie doesn’t mention what he actually said. “I told her about us, told her to screw off, and called her Sonia.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath, biting back tears. "She lunged for me and I ran to my room and locked the door. She called me a… f-fag. Over and over.”

The tears slip uncontrollably down Eddie’s cheeks and he finds himself shaking and struggling to breathe. His head is foggy with so many thoughts, so much disgust. Richie wraps an arm around Eddie’s front and his back and Eddie flinches, pushing him away and standing up.

“We can’t be together. I-I-“ Eddie bangs the side of his head with the heels of his palms, hysterically crying. “I’m disgusting!” Richie stands up and Eddie backs into his closet doors, shaking his head.

“Don’t come near me, just leave. Please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Richie wraps his hands around Eddie’s wrists and pulls them away from Eddie’s face. “I’m not leaving, baby.”

Eddie looks helplessly at Richie, sobs escaping him. “I don’t want to break up with you but we can’t be together. I’m disgusting, I’m crazy, I starve myself and make myself throw up. People are going to hate us. Please break up with me, just leave me, Richie.”

“No.”

“Let me go!” Eddie yells, trying to break Richie's hold on his wrists but Richie keeps holding on, tighter now. Eddie can feel the fabric of his t-shirt rubbing against his cuts, they can’t break open, there’s gauze around them, but it’s painful and uncomfortable. Not the kind of pain that he likes.

“Eddie, you need to calm down.”

“Richie, get off!”

Eddie could feel the blood pounding in his ears and his heart rapidly thudding in his chest, his world was swirling and he felt unable to stand. His breath shook along with his hands and he couldn’t pick up any physical feelings, he was trapped in this small glass box. He pulled at his shirt, feeling as if he was burning up, tugging at the collar as everything in his mind only got louder and louder and LOUDER AND LOUDER.

It was as if his brain was turned all the way up, ringing, buzzing, and rapid thumping being the only thing he can discern. His chest was tightening as the seconds went on, bile rising in his throat. The acidic vomit burned and he opened his mouth for air but nothing came. Then as everything was building up, he came crashing down. His stomach lurched as if he was falling and when his head stopped spinning he was laying down on his bed, facing up towards Richie.

He could barely get in a breath before his inhaler was being shoved in his mouth, and pushed down, the putrid taste combining with the faint taste of bile. “MMMM!” He screamed, vision going foggy from not breathing. He pushed Richie roughly, Richie almost losing his balance, and falling onto the floor.

Eddie turned over and clutched his chest, rapid breathing and closing his eyes, pressing his forehead against the bed. There was silence in his head and for the first time it occurred to him, he had a panic attack.

There was a soft hand on his back, and as soon as he felt the warmth he froze again, his head rushing again. It was his bare back, his shirt was off. The gauze.

A million excuses ran through his head, I burned myself. I got an ugly tattoo? No. I burned myself. God, haha, I’m so stupid, yeah, I burned myself. 

“Eddie,” Richie says, bringing his other hand around Eddie’s side to turn him over. Then he realized the cuts on his ribs were still there, the diagonal, horizontal, and vertical ones all over his stomach. The word Mom. on his left hip and 100 lbs on his right.

Richie took Eddie’s cheeks in his hands. “Please don’t have another anxiety attack on me.”

Eddie blinked quickly, his heaving chest slowing as Richie rubbed his thumb on Eddie’s cheekbone. “There you go baby, you’re alright. I love you so much and it's just me and you.”

“Y-You took my shirt off.” Eddie stammers.

“You were tugging at it, and grabbing it. You almost ripped it.”

Eddie glances at the gauze on his wrist, he doesn’t want to talk about it if Richie hasn’t noticed. But he’s also not stupid enough to think that Richie hasn’t noticed.

“Are you hurting yourself?” Oh. He’s not mad. He’s gentle, picking up Eddie’s right wrist and picking up a stray piece of gauze. Eddie doesn’t talk when the gauze unravels revealing dried blood and irritated cuts. When he looks at Richie’s face he wants to cry… he does.

Richie looks down at Eddie, still laying on his bed and frowns, sitting next to him and placing a hand underneath Eddie’s back, guiding him to sit between his legs. Eddie sits down gingerly, leaning forward so he doesn’t touch Richie, unconfident and insecure.

He can feel the fat rolls on his stomach and discerns how terribly obese he feels. He tries sucking in, but he needs the air, freshly relieved from an anxiety attack. Richie pulls Eddie back, resting against his chest and on instinct Eddie ducks his head to the side of Eddie’s neck, he can’t look.

Richie unwraps the other wrist, the worser of the two and runs his fingers along the ridges. He traces the lines, each of them, softly and with palpable care. Eddie’s thankful for his mother's ability to sleep so deeply, if she were to come in his room now— he doesn't want to imagine.

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie says, enveloping Eddie in his long arms. Richie’s fingers tickle the 100 on Eddie’s hip as he traces patterns into his skin. “Why do you do it?”

“Feels better.” Eddie mumbles, not wanting to speak.

“No,” Richie says more sternly, moving Eddie’s head from his neck and looking the smaller boy in the eyes. “Why do you do… everything? The anorexia and hurting yourself.”

Eddie wipes away his tears with his bare wrists, catching sight of the cuts that look worse than they did when he wrapped them. “I just-“

“When I was small, a child, my mother loved me. She would hold me and rock me, read me bedtime stories. Just… take care of me. And after my dad died all of that went away, and really… this started because she called me chubby. I just want her acceptance, I want her to love me. I just want to be a child sometimes so I can have somebody do that, so I can relive what it felt like to be loved." Eddie cries, tears traveling down his cheeks, and dripping off his chin onto Richie’s jeans.

Richie tightens his hold on Eddie, bringing a hand to support his neck. Slowly he rocks, pressing his lips to the top of his head. “I don’t know a lot of bedtime stories, and I can’t sing lullabies, only classic rock and roll.” Richie winks and Eddie giggles. “But I can tell you the story of The Beatles and I’ll sing you whatever David Bowie song you want.”

Eddie tilts his head up and Richie dips his head down, kissing Eddie’s nose and both of his cheeks, then his lips, pressing them together. Eddie opens his mouth and Richie moves his tongue in between Eddie’s lips. They break apart and Richie presses his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Screw whatever Sonia thinks, you’re my baby boy. You’re the most important thing in my life.” They kiss again and Eddie tangles one of his hands in Richie’s hair. “I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, ‘Chee.” Eddie says. His head feels spacey and buzzes, overcome with the affection Richie pours out. He loves Richie more than he’s loved, anybody. And Richie loves him more than anybody has loved him… more than his mother.

Richie returns to holding Eddie in silence, rocking side to side and kissing his head repeatedly. As the time ticks on, the dusty evening sky turning into a black sheet dotted with stars, Eddie falls asleep against Richie’s shoulder.

-x-

Richie hears the soft breathing of his boyfriend and smiles, looking down on him. Richie adjusts him and moves to lay Eddie down on the bed when Eddie stirs, blinking heavily.

“Hey baby boy, it’s just me, let's get you ready for bed, yeah?” Richie says and Eddie nods sleepily, feeling too spacey and otherworldly to reply.

Richie opens Eddie’s closet and pulls out a sweatshirt as Eddie slowly sits up, head still stirring. Despite doing nothing physical all day today, mentally he’s drained to no end. Richie turns and sees Eddie sitting up on the bed and wonders how he could’ve ever thought he was fat. Richie loves every bit of his boyfriend, including his tummy and thighs.

He’s not going to vocally say it, Beverly warned him about how sensitive people with eating disorders can be about weight comments. But he looks healthier, his face isn’t gaunt. Then it clicks that Eddie hasn’t eaten dinner as Richie is helping his arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

“Honey, can we go get you something to eat?” Richie asks, running a hand through Eddie’s hair, kissing him as his eyes open.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not hungry.”

“Eddie-“

“Richie,” Eddie says, eyes fully open and stern. Richie loses there battle right there, he’s not going to shove food down his throat, he doesn’t want to put Eddie through that, and he doesn’t want to argue with him either. “Please. Just… leave it alone.”

Richie sighs. “I’m not going to let you die of anorexia.”

Eddie gets underneath the covers and Richie does also, the smaller boy curling into Richie’s side. “I told you, Richie. I’m not anorexic.”

-x-

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with Richie gone, a note in its place.

Eddie,

Meet at my house around 2, we’re all going to the Quarry. Please go with us. I love you. Also sorry about your
TV you can come watch The Simpsons at mine.

Your favorite mom, Richie.

-x-

Sonia Kaspbrak wakes up with her TV unplugged and the cords fried beyond usage.

Chapter Text

-x-

It was two days later when Eddie nosedived into his own world of depression and eating disorders. Except for this time, he had found ways to dodge Richie’s questions and concerns, making himself out to be healthy.

His mother bought food… eventually. And the cabinets were stocked again with terribly unhealthy food. Eddie could feel his stomach lurching in protest upon seeing the box of Oreos. The taste of chocolate became repulsive to him, reminding him of brown, liquidy, chocolate ice cream. How cold it felt against his throat coming up, sticking to his teeth and making his fingers cold— in the grossest way possible.

Eddie shivered and cringed thinking about it… he wished there was somebody to tell him that purging an entire pint of chocolate ice cream wasn’t going to be very pleasant.

Every time he thinks about it, he chugs water until his stomach hurts. He’s found that it works, and it’s saved him from a 5000 calorie binge many times since the cabinets have been stocked with all of his, fear food.

Or, if it’s the middle of the night and he can't bring himself to fill up a glass with water… he smokes. Every day leads him to this, leaning outside of his bedroom window with a cigarette between his fingers, taking deep breaths as smoke slides out of his mouth and nose. He used to detest cigarettes and would glare at Richie every time he lit one, always giving Beverly the cliché “Stop Smoking” brochures that they have in the pharmacy.

He likes the way the cigarettes look against his fingers, how in the moonlight he can see the veins in his hands, and the bone on his wrist. It makes him feel… real. The burn that the cigarette has on his throat combines with the roughness from constant purging and Eddie closes his eyes, fighting a cough. When he opens his eyes again he sees spots in his vision and lets out a shaky breath, ignoring the foul taste in his mouth.

When he’s done with his cigarette he throws it into his neighbors bush and closes his window, sitting on his bed and blinking sleepily. He wraps his fingers around his wrist, sighing in contentment when they meet each other. He’s lost three pounds in those two days, he fasted for 33 hours and then ate 200 calories of green bell peppers. He’s back to running again, every morning for an hour and a half. He looks forward to it… it’s the only time he feels anything.

Richie doesn’t know about these things, and whenever he comes over Eddie is sure to have showered, put his sweaty clothes in the washer, and put plates in the sink to make it look like he’s eating. He says he’s so proud. Eddie feels like shit.

Eddie scoots backward on his bed, pulling his bed covers up to his chin and curling around a stuffed bear that Richie got him. Eddie has been… regressing lately. He finds comfort in his stuffed bear and burying himself under blankets. It takes the weight off his shoulders. He feels small and childlike, something that he’s longed for.

Richie takes it well, holding him and stroking his hair every time. Making Eddie feel loved when he kisses all over his face and calls him baby boy.

It takes forever for him to fall asleep, but when he does he’s positioned his pillow so he can wrap an arm around it, and press his cheek into the soft fabric.

-x-

“Eddie?” His mother calls from the living room. It’s the first time she’s addressed him since the incident so it’s shocking and Eddie has to compose himself before answering her. He steps into the living room after taking off his running shoes, looking at her with sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

“Yes?”

She glances at him and sighs. “It’s my sisters 40th birthday, and she’s invited us to stay at our house this weekend…”

“Us?”

“Yes. As in you and me.” His mother grunts turning down the volume on her TV. “And don’t try getting out of this, I already told her you would be there. Apparently, they’re excited to see you…” She says, her voice getting lower at the end as disappointment came in.

“S-so when are we leaving?”

“Friday afternoon. It’ll be a four-hour drive.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath, nodding, and slowly turns away from his mother. Walking back to his room where he can strip himself of his sweaty clothes and take a comforting shower. Although, there's not much comfort that can be delivered… considering his family reunion is the main thing on his mind.

The water washes over him and Eddie is still standing there, shampoo in his hair when the water turns cold. With a shiver, he gingerly washes out the soap and then gets out wrapping a towel around himself. He shivers uncontrollably, teeth chattering, and his hands struggling to pull on a pair of jeans and one of Richie’s sweaters. When he looks in the mirror his cheeks and lips have a purple tint and his nose is red. Eddie reaches up a shaking hand to touch his cheek, a veiny, purple hand and runs his fingers over the new spots on his skin.

He rubs the towel against his hair then hangs it on the back off the door, going into his room to get his backpack, put on his converse, and then set out for the park. He smokes a cigarette on the way there, feeling the warmth of the sun thawing out his fingers. He would be afraid of one of the neighbors seeing him, but frankly, he doesn’t care anymore.

There's not a lot that he cares about. Richie and his small group of friends. Everything else is pointless.

Eddie throws his cigarette into one of the sewers and folds his arms across his chest as he keeps walking, sucking in and feeling his ribs. 133 pounds today. The late afternoon sun is hot against his body and the loose sweater covering him, he can feel himself start to sweat until a much-needed breeze comes through, picking up his hair and tickling the sides of his face with it.

Eddie sees Richie and Stan first, sitting on one of the park benches arguing. Eddie smiles and picks up his pace, ignoring the sudden lurch of his heart and how quickly it beats, almost like he’s going to pass out any second. Beverly looks up from laying on the grass and waves.

“Eddie’s here!”

Richie turns and grins as Eddie hugs the other losers before making his way to Richie. Eddie presses his nose into the side of Richie’s neck, sighing happily as Richie rubs up and down his back. “You look beautiful today.”

He says it every day, but a part of Eddie believes him now because he’s losing weight so rapidly. Richie continues rubbing Eddies back, talking to the other losers. Eddie feels the vibrations in his boyfriends deep voice and sighs happily, the feeling bringing him warmth and comfort.

Richie pats Eddies back and Eddie looks up at him, brushing a piece of hair from Richie’s eyes. His hair is so long and beautiful, brushing the bottom of his ears in wild curls that Eddie adores. Eddie grins, twirling one around his finger.

“Did you eat today, Ed’s?” Richie asks, running his hands up and down Eddie's sides.

Eddie nods, lying, and hugs Richie again. “Mmhm. Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

Richie chuckles. “Of course. You're favorite.”

Eddie blushes and kisses Richie, their lips smacking loudly when Beverly yells at them to get a room. Eddie feels Richie hold him at the small of his back and feels his cheeks heat up to an embarrassing heat. He’s sure all of his friends can see the intense red coloring his cheeks and he’s thankful that they don’t tease him for it. Except for Stan, who winks at him.

“If you two heard… we’re going to the roller rink.”

Richie huffs. “There’s no roller rink in Derry, Molly Ringwald.”

“Yeah. But there is in Linconville.” Mike says from the bench, drumming his fingers on his knees. Even in the heat of the summer, Eddie’s never seen Mike wear shorts. Eddie isn’t either… but that's because he can’t let his friends see how disgusting his legs are. Or the cuts that cover his thighs.

“It’s not going to be a short ride. It’s at least an hour.”

“Do you have any better plans, Richie?” Stan asks, sighing.

“Yeah, I was gonna fuck your mother after lunch.”

“Oh my god. That was so unreasonable.” Stan says leaning his head against Bill’s shoulder. Eddie watches as Bill’s face heats up to match Eddie’s and a smile grows on his lips.

Richie sighs again and Eddie’s eyes meet Beverly’s blue ones who practically pleads at him. You’re wrapped around his finger. He’ll do anything you say. Eddie looks up at Richie. “I think it would be fun… I’ve never been skating before. My mother probably would’ve had a hemorrhage.”

Richie cups Eddie’s cheek, his thumb running up and down his cheekbone. “Okay, fine.” Richie looks up at the others. “We’ll go skating. Get in, losers.”

Beverly hugs Eddie whispering in his ear. “He’s totally whipped.”

Eddie giggles and is the last to get in the car, sitting in the passenger's seat with Mike as Beverly sits on Ben’s lap, her legs stretched over Bill and Stan.

“Richie, no shitty music. That's my only request.” Ben says.

Richie takes out one of his mixtapes and pushes it into the radio. “You mean no classic rock and roll? You must have thought you were in Stan’s car.”

Echo & The Bunnymen starts playing and Beverly laughs loudly at the look of pure disappointment on Ben’s face. “This isn’t bad. Just wait until we’re thirty minutes into this… then Rock Lobster comes on and everybody will want to fling themselves out of the car.”

“I swear to god, Richie…”

“Hmm. I think I’m feeling some Rock Lobster now… what about you Ed’s?”

“Say no, Eddie!”

“Eddie preserve our souls. I cannot live through that song.”

“B-Beverly your f-foot is on my DICK!”

“I thought you had a foot fetish…”

Eddie grins. “I could go for it.”

“NO!”

“Ow you b-bitc-h!”

-x-

It takes almost an hour and a half to get to the skating rink but when they do, cars are starting to fill up the parking lot and Eddie can hear the roller disco music thumping from inside of the building. The large Skateland sign buzzes and blinks, looking out onto the busy road. The sun sets behind it, rays peeking over and shining into Eddie’s eyes.

Richie takes his hand as they all cross the parking lot to head inside. When the employee at the ticket booth asks for Eddie’s wrist a knot builds up in Eddie’s throat. Richie is standing right next to him, his arm protectively wrapped around Eddie's waist, hand resting on Eddie’s bum.

Eddie gingerly holds out his arm, pulling his sleeve back just enough for the employee to wrap the wristband around Eddie’s wrists. Eddie frowns seeing that there's no space between his skin and the band, proving that he’s fat.

He feels so disgusting.

Eddie pulls back his wrist, bringing down his sleeve, feeling Richie’s eyes on the top of his head the entire time. Eddie shifts uncomfortably and steps away from Richie going through the doors into the rink where teens are lacing up their roller skates and some are already on the floor, skating around in circles to the rhythm of the music.

Eddie dissociates while standing in line with the other losers waiting to get skates. He feels an emptiness inside of his stomach, scared for this weekend, scared of his mother, everything starts to build up. The music is too loud and Eddie desperately wants to go home and curl up on his bed with his stuffed animals, where he feels calm.

Eddie tugs on Richie’s sleeve then intertwines their fingers, Richie looks down and brings his mouth close to Eddie’s ear. “Whats wrong, honey?”

“Scared.”

They take a step forward in line and Eddie feels the anxiety in his chest build up. Beverly is laughing along with Bill and Mike, Stan and Ben are trying to figure out a hand clapping rhyme, Eddie feels so distanced besides being just two feet away from them.

“Are you going to have an anxiety attack?”

Eddie nods, holding his breath making the pain in his chest burn more.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Do you want to leave? We can go outside and take some deep breaths…”

Eddie shakes his head, biting his lip. He doesn’t want to leave, he’s tired of just leaving he needs to face his problems, and stop being so stupid.

“You’re safe, baby. Just take some deep breaths. Breathe in for five seconds and out for seven.” Richie’s voice is so quiet and low, soft enough so only Eddie can hear him. To anybody else, even their friends, it will look like Richie is just whispering to him, not helping him through an anxiety attack.

Eddie holds onto Richie’s hand tighter following Richie’s directions and breathing. Eventually, the intense feelings subside, comforted by Richie whispering reassurance to him. Eddie slumps against Richie’s side taking a shaky breath.

“Are you feeling better, baby boy? Keep breathing, okay?”

Eddie nods. “I feel better.”

“Good. Do you still want to stay?”

He honestly wants to go home more than ever, but he doesn’t want to disappoint his friends and Richie. He can tell Richie is excited, he doesn’t want to ruin that. You always ruin everything. Try not making something about you, for once.

Eddie bites his lip. “Yeah, yeah I do. I want to stay.”

“Okay. That's- okay.” Richie smiles and kisses the top of his head, pulling him close. “I’ll be with you the whole time, and whenever you’re uncomfortable just tell me and I can help you.” Richie tilts Eddie’s chin upwards so that Eddie can see his gleaming brown eyes. “I want to help you, Ed’s. I love you so much.”

Eddie feels himself tearing up, the warmth and affection from Richie pouring into him, bringing the comfort and love that Eddie desires. “I love you too.”

“Oh my god. They’re having a tender moment again.” Mike says. Bringing both of the boys out of their lovesick trance.

“Shut up. Get your skates and let me be in love.” Eddie scoffs jokingly, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Y-You’re a-always in-n love.” Bill says reaching for his and Stanley’s skates.

“He’s one to talk. He and Stan are totally swooning over each other.” Richie says under his breath, loud enough for only Eddie to hear. Eddie giggles standing beside Richie as he gets their skates then leads them over to the benches. Eddie slides off his converse and unties the skate, putting his feet inside.

Then he sees Richie move in the corner of his eye, squatting down and putting his hands on Eddie’s laces. “Let me.” He says, gently pushing the rest of Eddie’s foot into the skate and tying it. Eddie blushes, feeling his friends eyeing them, probably laughing amongst themselves on how embarrassingly whipped Richie is. But Eddie loves it, Eddie can’t get enough of it.

-x-

Richie brings Eddie back to his house well after the sun has set, Eddie’s sure it’s the middle of the night, as the roads are empty when they pull into Richie’s driveway. Eddie is nodding off in the passenger's seat but is roped back to reality when he feels an arm go underneath his knees and around his back.

Eddie is lifted into Richie’s arms and he snuggles against him. “Richie?”

“Yes, baby?”

The inside of Richie’s house is cold and smells like cigarettes. Eddie hears the hum of a television and the snoring from Richie’s father. The smell intensifies once they enter into Richie’s room, but instead of being disgust, Eddie holds onto him tighter.

“My mom wants us to go visit her family this weekend,” Eddie says as Richie sits him on his bed. “It’s my aunts birthday.”

Richie sits next to Eddie, leaning his head on his shoulder. “When will you be back?”

“Monday. We should be back on Monday.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Friday afternoon.”

Richie places his hand over Eddie’s slipping his fingers between his. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to go. I want to spend the weekend with you and the Losers.”

“I know you do.”

“I hate my mother… and her fucking family.”

“It’s only one weekend. And you can always make emergency calls to Derry, our phone is always on.”

Eddie smirks and turns his head, kissing Richie’s curls, smelling the vanilla on them. “Be expecting a lot of emergency calls.”

Richie sits up slowly and cups Eddie’s cheeks, his eyes filled with smokey lust. Eddie gulps and leans into his hand as Richie caresses it, fingers moving against the bone to the dip beneath it, trailing over soft skin, and onto Eddie’s lips.

Eddie opens his mouth, slightly, Richie’s thumb going between his lips. He sucks on the end of it and watches Richie’s cheeks turn pink and the smoke in his eyes intensify. If smoke was the only thing Eddie would be able to see for the rest of his life, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that happened to him.

Definitely not the worst thing.

Chapter Text

-x-

The heat inside of the car was almost unbearable, the late summer sun unpleasant and blistering against the gravel and the cars. Eddie had no recollection of where they were, but he could see miles and miles of trees from his place in the passenger's seat of his mother's car.

He looked into the side mirror watching as an older man stood by their gas pump, filling up their car while his mother was inside paying for it. Eddie sighed and shifted uncomfortably, thighs sticking to the seats in his mother's car. He had to wear shorts today, sitting in a balmy car for four hours with no air conditioning would’ve not have been compatible with denim jeans. Even now in shorts, Eddie is twitchy and uncomfortable.

Eddie sees his large mother push both of the gas station doors open, stepping out onto the street. She was wearing a blue dress that made her look rounder and her hair was sweaty, sticking to the sides of her face. Eddie could see the red tint on her cheeks despite being yards away.

She wobbles up to the man pumping their gas and pushes two dollars into his chest, then circles around to the driver's side where she huffs, lifting herself into the driver's seat. Eddie keeps his eyes forward, they’ve barely spoken this entire ride, only when she tells Eddie to go to the bathroom if he needs to at rest stops or asking if he’s hungry. She really doesn’t care, instead, she’s looking for an excuse to stop and eat.

Sonia waits until the man taps the back of her car until she flips the keys, the engine rumbling to life. Eddie shifts once more, leaning himself against the door and pressing his head against the window, peering out to the gas station and the millions of trees as they eventually become blurs they’re zooming past. His mother's radio buzzes in and out with the satalite that is tangled between trees, sometimes leaving them in silence for a couple of seconds.

But when the radio comes back on, Eddie hears Cyndi Lauper and wishes for the satalite to fade again. Ever since inevitably falling in love with Richie, mainstream pop-songs are becoming more and more dislikable. He hasn’t listened to Chicago in ages. He wishes he could pop in his walkman, the one Richie gave him with his self-made playlist in, lean his seat back and listen to The Smiths or Prince. Something other than the terrible music playing on the radio right now.

His mother puts down the windows with a nervous look on her face, she never did that, scared of the germs that would come in and eat their skin off. However, with a broken air conditioner and 90-degree dry heat, she can’t help herself.

The hot air turns into a cool breeze as they speed through swerving roads, the map on the dashboard rippling and shaking. It goes through Eddie’s hair, feeling cold against the wet sweat against on his head. He can finally close his eyes and before he does he sees his mother smile faintly, a memory flashing through her, bringing her back. He’s never seen her smile like this before, even though it’s small, it’s a real one. He wonders what it was, a road trip back home with Eddie’s father sitting in the passenger's seat, maybe Eddie as a baby in the back. Was the snow falling? Were the leaves orange, brown, and yellow?

He has so many questions, and he imagines scenarios in his head. He figures it’s better than asking her, as she would shut down instantly.

In every situation, he’s there. His father, holding Eddie in his arms or turning around in his seat to squeeze Eddie’s little feet. He can’t make out what he looks like… but he’s there. In these scenarios, he has a dad. It’s good enough.

-x-

“Eddie bear…” He feels his mothers hand run over his small hand in his car seat, grinning at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He can feel a soft baby blanket against his legs and light floods in from all of the windows. His father laughs somewhere outside of the car and people are happy. Happiness.

His mother is younger, skinner. Her chins are gone, shrunken into a narrow, beautiful face with large brown eyes, her curls tied into a pink scrunchie. Her skin is a soft pink instead of a harsh, unhealthy one. “It’s time to wake up. Your family wants to meet you. C’mon Eddie.” She cooed.

“My Eddie. Eddie. Eddie-“

“Eddie.” He’s shaken awake and he sits up abruptly, a feeling of uncertainty in his stomach. He looks around unfamiliar with his surroundings. It’s a neighborhood of large suburban homes, all surrounded by white picket fences and perfectly mowed lawns. He lets out a shaky breath and feels his heart beneath his hand.

“We’re here. Get your stuff.” His mother says in a monotone way. Eddie nods and fumbles with the car handle before stepping out onto the fancy, brick driveway. He doesn’t remember being in this house, but it feels familiar. Almost like he was here when he was younger.

“Oh- Sonia!” Eddie hears a loud squeal and sees a lady running down the driveway, her dress billowing beneath her knees. His mom grins and opens her arms, hugging her sister tightly. “I’m so glad you two made it! This is amazing!” She rambles ridiculously and Eddie has to hold himself still when she comes over to hug him.

“And Eddie, how handsome you are. Look at you, have you lost weight? You look good!” She says, her hands pressing against Eddie’s cheeks and pulling at his collared shirt. "So handsome. So handsome. Oh, Sonia, how lucky you are."

“Yeah, really lucky.” His mother groans as she pulls out her suitcase, the bag slamming to the driveway. Eddie can sense the sarcasm in her voice and mentally flicks her off. Bitch. The smell of powder perfume lessens as Eddie’s aunt backs away from him and he feels relieved. He looks up into the tall house windows and sees a blonde boy staring down at him intensely, sitting on the windowsill.

Eddie breaks eye-contact going to the trunk to get his suitcase. He follows his mother up the driveway, anxiety rising like bile as he gets closer and closer to the house. He hears the sounds of people inside, all people that will want to hug him, touch him, make comments about him. When they step inside he’s drowned in hugs from people he doesn’t know, even though they all claim to remember him.

“I’m your grandma!” But Eddie had no idea he had an alive grandmother. All of these people, it’s too much and it takes pushing through all of them to let to the nearest bathroom, but even that is small and enclosed. He washes his face with cold water, and grips the edge of the sink, rolling up his sleeve and presses his nail against one of the cuts. He hisses then feels his tense muscles relax at the pain.

He jumps at the knock on the door and sucks in a breath. “J-Just a minute!” Eddie quickly pulls down his sleeve, turns off the faucet and opens the door. It’s the blonde.

He smirks. “Wow. You look overwhelmed.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath and bites the inside of his cheek. “Y-Yeah.”

There’s something about him, something so intimidating, that Richie never had. Eddie felt his stomach drop with guilt when he heard himself say this in his mind. The blonde boy sticks out his hand, Eddie can see his muscles flexing in his blue collared shirt.

“I’m Patrick.”

Eddie takes his hand and Patrick shakes it, still smiling. “How are we related?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t remember anybody here.”

“Well you came with Sonia, I’m guessing you’re her son.”

“Yes.” Sadly.

“I’m Claire’s son. Her sisters best friend.”

“So we’re not related…”

Patrick laughs and lightly pulls Eddie out of the bathroom. “I guess not. We’re both stuck in this hellish family reunion we don’t want any part of.”

“Guess so.”

“It’s not so bad. At least you’re not a twelve year old like I feared. My mom told me you would be coming, but when I looked at your picture on your aunt's fridge that's what you looked like.”

That was last years school picture. My sophomore year. Immediately his mind switches and instead of using the time to tell how long it's been, he uses his own weight. I was overweight then. It makes more sense than time… it matters more to him.

Eddie gives a fake laugh, forcing it out of him like a cough. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. We can get through this. I’m a pro at dodging family members… my mom takes me to all of these.”

Patrick goes to Eddie’s bag and picks it up, putting one foot on the stairs. “You can stay in my room, I figure you don’t want to sleep next to your mom.” The look on Patrick's face beckons Eddie to follow and inside, in his stomach, Eddie feels uncertainty and danger.

He brushes it off. It’s just holding me back.

-x-

Eddie gets through dinner without taking a single bite of food. Thankfully everybody is too distracted with each other and their stories to notice Eddie scraping his food into the napkin in his lap, then shaking it to give to the dog who rests at his feet waiting for the next piece of steak that Eddie drops.

Patrick sits across from him, next to his own mother, watching Eddie over the top of his wine glass. His aunt offered to give them red wine… it was a celebration. The deep blood red liquid burned the back of Eddie’s throat in the best way possible, and he wishes that he could have the entire bottle.

He feels the effects of the wine quicker than everyone else, most likely because of the lack of food. He hasn’t eaten in 28 hours, and his hope is to go as long as he possibly can without eating. His families comment only further motivate him, his aunt commenting on how tiny he is and his grandmother adding more steak on his plate, telling him to get some meat on his bones he feels guilty, but the guilt is overwhelmed by pride. He can’t wait to get back home and weigh himself. His goal is 128 lbs when he steps on the stale the morning after he gets home. That's the only way he will go let himself see Richie.

Fuck. Richie. He misses him, and he wishes he was here.

Thirty minutes later, Eddie brings his plate to the sink and jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me,” Patrick whispers into Eddie’s ear. Eddie sees him holding the bottle of wine underneath his arm, and follows him without question. He needs more.

They escape to the playground three minutes away, coated in darkness and spooky to all hell. Making their way over to the creaking swingsets, shoes crunching against the mulch. Eddie sits down in one, giving himself a light push so he can move back and forth. Patrick uncorks the wine which gives a small pop sound and laughs. “To family reunions.” He says, raising the wine bottle and taking a swig from it.

His eyes pinch together, blonde eyebrows burrowing. He makes a low growling sound as the wine hits the back of his throat, causing a blissful burning sensation. Eddie grins, taking the bottle that Patrick passes and does the same, holding back a cough. Let it burn. Let it burn.

“Where do you and Sonia live?”

Eddie clears his throat, trying to talk around the feeling in it. “Uhm. Derry. It's a small town four hours away from here.”

“Hm. I’ve never heard of Derry before. Only Dairy Queen.”

Eddie laughs. “Surprisingly there is no Dairy Queen in my town. Only a stupid ice cream shop with the same guy serving ice cream every time. He’s older than dirt by the way.”

“Dang that sucks, my mom and I are from Chicago. I’ve never seen a small town in my life-“ Patrick keeps talking but Eddie finds his mind drifting. Thinking about Richie and what he could be doing. Maybe laying in his bed, his shirt off listening to some band on his walkman. Eddie wishes he was there, running his hand over Richie’s chest, straddling his hips, sucking on his neck.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Eddie is roped out of his thoughts by Patrick addressing something to him.

“Uhm. No.” Eddie says awkwardly, taking another sip of the wine. He wanted to leave so bad, go home to the safety of Riche and his friends. He wouldn’t give a fuck if his mother never came back to Derry.

“Really?”

“Y-Yeah. N-No girlfriend.” Eddie stutters, coughing around the awkwardness. Why would he even ask that? Why is having a relationship a conversation topic… it’s so stupid.

“Are you gay?”

Eddie almost coughs up his wine and a blush spreads from his cheek down his neck. He can’t out himself, not here, with this family. He knows firsthand how judgemental they can all be.

“You are! Look at you! You’re blushing!” Patrick points out, poking Eddie’s red cheeks. “You’re super gay.”

“I-I’m not.”

“Hey, it's fine. No judgment here. Every family has a gay person.” Patrick says standing up off the swing. “You coming back?”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in the swing at Patrick's previous sentence, the offensive way he said it sitting on his chest.

“No, not now. I need some air.” Eddie mumbles, avoiding eye-contact.

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.”

Patrick walks off into the darkness, towards his aunt's large house, all of the windows lit up and shining into the pitch-black. Eddie takes a shaky breath and hangs his head, holding onto the swing set chains and dragging his shoes in the mulch.

-x-

The actual birthday party is today. There’s going to be 5 times the people, and Eddie can imagine it now, people crowded everywhere, talking, laughing. It’s so much.

He’s wanted to use the phone for an hour now, but the kitchen where it is is always full and noisy. He wants to talk with Richie alone. Not to mention Patrick has been breathing down his shoulder all day, winking at him and making Eddie feel uncomfortable.

He should’ve never outed himself. But he didn’t out himself. Patrick outed him. You shouldn’t have made it so obvious. He agrees with his brain.

The window in the bathroom is open, Eddie sticking his head out and smoking into the late afternoon air, the bathroom fan whirring loudly along with the spray of the shower. His hair is wet and dripping down his t-shirt, making him shiver when it reaches his spine.

Eddie looks down at the cigarette and burns out the butt, pressing it to the side of the house and then throwing it into a nearby tree, climbing back inside he closes the window and shakes his head, water falling to the floor. He turns off the shower and the fan, taking a whiff of air to make sure that the smell is gone. Not like he cares if it is, but it’s still courteous. There are other people using this bathroom.

Eddie tightens the gauze around his wrist, hissing when it brushes too harshly against his new cuts. His push pins and razor blades are tucked safely away in his toiletry bag, cleaned and sterile for his next session. Cutting, to him. Has become a sort of ritual. He cuts straight lines on his wrists and arms, the words on his hips and the front of his thighs, then more lines on the sides of his lines.

They must be straight too. If not, he freaks out. And he’s done it before.

Eddie reaches for the jean jacket hanging on the back of the door, sliding his arms in the holes, the sleeves ending right above the white gauze. Cutting it close.

The black jeans he wears are uncomfortable against his thighs and hips, causing a pain every time he shifts… but it’s a reminder. He cut himself. Eddie tucks his shirt into his jeans loosely then cleans up the bathroom, double checking for cigarette ashes and the smell, then opens the door to Patrick.

“You take gay showers.” He smirks.

“What?”

“You were in there for forever."

“It was ten minutes. That's a normal person shower.”

“Whatever. People are going to be here soon, we should go downstairs.”

Eddie nods and stuffs his dirty clothes and toiletry bag into his backpack, ties his converse on, and then follows Patrick downstairs where it is beginning to crowd. Eddie successfully dodges hugs this time, keeping himself out of people’s line of sight.

He wants more than anything to get away from Patrick, but he’s the only one here. Where will he go if Patrick wasn’t here? Patrick offers Eddie a beer and Eddie reluctantly takes it, unsure of the fizzing drink. “Oh God. Just taste it. If you don’t like it I’ll find you something a bit more feminine.“

Eddie glares at him then raises the cold bottle to his lips, sipping. The foam bubbles in his mouth and the drink tastes musty. But it’s a good kind, he’s not appalled by it. “It’s fine. I’ll have this.” Eddie says, sipping again.

Patrick smirks and claps Eddie on the back. “Good.”

Though this time, Patrick doesn’t take his hand off, he moves it down to the small of Eddie’s back and moves them both into the sitting room where baseball is playing and there are kids playing legos on the floor. Eddie tries sitting with a respectful distance between them, but Patrick moves close, their legs touching, arm still around Eddie.

Richie. Richie. Richie. Richie.
Eddie takes more drinks, an hour later he doesn’t know what he’s drinking… just that he’s drinking. The advancements Patrick makes go ignored although Eddie feels them. His hand moving on his thigh, fingers tickling the insides of them. Eddie feels used.

Like he deserves this. And he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know how to push him off. He doesn’t want to make him angry.

“Shit. People are coming in here. Let’s go to my room.”

When Eddie stands he almost falls over, but Patrick holds onto him. “Please, no. I got… it.” Eddie slurs looking for his mom. He needs her. He needs an escape.

“No no no. It’s okay, I got you. C’mon now.”

Eddie’s being pulled up the stairs, tripping over steps and nearly falling twice. The room is like a dungeon… closer and closer he goes to the darkness. To his demise.

The lamp by Patrick's nightstand is glowing orange, bleeding and blurry in Eddie’s mind. He stumbles over discarded clothes, catching himself on the dresser and pressing himself against a cool wall. Searching for an emotion and scowling at the lack of definitive phrases to say, his eyes set with rings as they found their assumed place with the smallest curve at Patrick's cheeks, the dim orange light off the walls reminds him of trying to find the right words to use. Tell him to stop.

Feeling his back against one and trying to straighten his back against it, yearned his desire for the dialogue, as he slid down the floor, a timer in his head, still searching for a way to pause the scene and get out.

Patrick became a blurry figure, looming over him, slipping in him. Loud breaths and large hands. Eddie could feel the sweat on the back of his neck. His arms were pinned at his sides, unable to move or roll away. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to cry.

When he pressed his ear against the carpet the muffled sounds of Happy Birthday arose. It settled in like a disturbing fog that nobody was going to come looking for him. There was no way out of this.

Fighting the urge to vomit, he listened to the singing, imagining another place, another time. More words and more phrases to use… to get him off. If he weren’t such a dissapointment, this would’ve never happened.

“Happy Birthday to you!”

-x-

“Pause the TV, Bev. This might be Eddie.” Richie says as he stands up, walking towards the ringing phone.

“Should we leave? I don’t think any of us want to stick around for your phone sex.” Beverly giggles along with the rest of the losers.

“Cute. I only do that with Stan’s mother though.”

“Bitch.”

Richie smirks as he picks up the phone, bringing it to his ears. “The best Tozier here, how can I help?”

Sniffling. Crying. Small breaths that could only belong to one boy.

“Eddie?”

“Ruh-Richie."

“Baby? What happened? Can you tell me? Are you okay? Eddie?”

“Richie… Richie…”

“Yes, baby. Eddie, I’m right here, okay? Please tell me whats going on…”

Richie turns looking frantically to the others who are looking back with the same expressions. He feels like his world is spinning. “Eddie?”

“He- I-“ Eddie lets out a heartbreaking sob. “I’m so sorry.”

“Eddie!”

The phone hangs up and Richie’s left with a long dial tone, staring at the point where the phone holder meets the wall, feeling empty and helpless.

Chapter Text

-x-

Eddie dragged his suitcase down the driveway Monday morning, trying not to vomit, or pass out.

His mother happily said her goodbyes to everyone, chatting about how they should all get together again for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Eddie already said his goodbyes, inside of the house while Patrick was sleeping upstairs. Now, Patrick is standing at the top of the driveway, staring through Sonia to Eddie.

He gets in the car and locks the door, pulling his knees up to his chest. The car isn’t on, so Eddie is choked with sitting hot air, but it’s better than having to touch Patrick again. Having Patrick touch him.

Sunday was unbelievably awkward, Eddie was being chased all day and he took every opportunity to be busy so that Patrick wouldn’t have a chance to talk to him. He even volunteered to go to the grocery store with his grandma— the grandma he doesn’t remember. Thankfully, it took three hours.

Sonia walks down the driveway, fumbling with the keys in her large hands then hoists herself into the driver's seat, the car groaning as she settles. When she flips the keys and the engine rumbles to life Eddie takes a deep breath, a breath he had been holding.

They roll down the driveway and Eddie looks at Patrick as he gets smaller and smaller, the weight being lifted off Eddie’s shoulder even more as he shrinks into a blob in their rearview mirror.

“I think we’re going to go back for Christmas,” Sonia said and Eddie nodded, pressing the side of his head against the window. “They like you.”

Eddie nodded again, making a humming sound and slowly closing his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to his mother go on and on about her family, he just wanted to sleep. The thought of going home wasn’t better either, he regrets making that phone call to Richie.

He probably worried all of his friends and now they hate him, he’s useless. It’s Eddie’s fault anyway, he shouldn’t have been drinking. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. The disgust settles in his stomach again, a million pounds, and he doesn’t know if he needs to throw up or just wait it out. This will pass, it has been since Saturday evening.

He doesn’t want to tell anybody. He can do this on his own. Move on and forget about it.

When Sonia emerges onto the highway, speeding past the suburbs and the land, Eddie is already asleep struggling to breathe trapped within his brain. Sleeping and living, the two things he can’t get away from, are the worst things to him.

-x-

Eddie jolts awake when he hears the car door slam, and he clutches his chest, gasping for air. With sleepy, bleary eyes he takes in his surroundings, the trees, the red house. He’s home. His mother knocks on his window, starling him. “Let's go! We need to get inside, I have work in three hours.”

Eddie slowly reaches a hand around the door handle and gets out of the car. He makes his way around to the trunk and grabs his suitcase, dragging it onto the driveway with a loud thump. The steps up to the house are long, and the heat beats down on him, Eddie feels a pull in his arms as he drags his suitcase. I need to lay down.

He turns into his room and drops his suitcase in the middle of his floor before throwing himself on his bed, out of breath and dizzy. He’s been fasting since Thursday, and after the 30-hour mark, he’s not hungry anymore. Just numb, and foggy.

He wishes Richie were here, but he doesn’t at the same time. Disgusting.

Eddie shivers and rolls up in his blankets, eyes blinking lazily at the whirring ceiling fan in his room, dust gathering at the edges of the fan. Eddie sighs and turns to look out the window, watching the wilting flowers outside of his window blow in the lazy, hot, wind.

The TV in the living room turns on, and a kitchen cabinet opens and closes, followed by the noise of his mother opening a bag of potato chips. Everything goes back to normal. It’s like it never happened.

-x-

Between putting his and his mother's clothes in the washing machine and reading the nutrition labels on all of the food in his house, the phone rings, and Eddie has a feeling of who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey…” Richie. “Are you okay, can I come over?”

“Um. It’s kind of a mess right now, there are clothes everywhere.” Eddie says wearily, hoping to sway Richie from coming to his house. His mother isn’t home, having gone to work for the rest of the evening, so normally these are the times when Richie would come over to watch cartoons and cuddle. But Eddie doesn’t want to be held or touched. Even looked at.

“I can help you unpack? Maybe we can go to Bill’s for dinner, his mom is making lasagna. If you want to, of course. I won’t force you to do anything.”

Eddie looks down, shuffling his feet. He doesn’t want to tell Richie no and blow him off, he can hear the hope in Richie’s voice about coming over, they haven’t seen each other since Thursday night. “Y-Yeah. Sure. Um— yeah, come over. I’ll be here.”

“Eddie,” Richie says more seriously, his voice lowering. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. See you soon.” Eddie says, hanging up the phone without telling Richie that he loves him. Eddie’s hand lingers on the phone and he turns to the kitchen and the packs of unopened food and the yellow notepad with different numbers written down.

Eddie quickly puts the food back, running his notepad into his room and hiding it in one of his desk drawers ad straightening his bed. Eddie catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and takes in a sharp breath. His hair is disheveled and thin and his cheekbones are more prominent, he’s never looked at himself for this long. His face is a faint yellow and his lips are blue, eyes dull.

He sighs and brings his hands now, watching as his face expands and his cheeks fill out. His collarbones aren’t as prominent and Eddie only sees himself as fat. Richie will notice how fat you are when he comes over.

The ring of the doorbell ropes Eddie out of his thoughts and he shuffles into the hallway where he sees a lanky figure on the other side of the door. When Eddie opens the door, Richie smiles gently at him, dressed in baggy jeans and a Metallica shirt. His glasses are leaned on his freckled nose and he seems to have gotten even taller.

“Baby…” Riche says softly stepping into the house, and Eddie feels his need to have Richie hold him raise and raise until its uncontrollable. He needs Richie. Eddie steps forward quickly and presses his head into Richie’s chest, letting out a desperate whine and a shaky breath.

Richie’s arms encompass Eddie’s body and he kisses the side of his ear, then the top of his head. “I missed you.”

“Me too.”

They hug for a little more, until the need goes from Eddie, being replaced with disgust and shame. He steps back from Richie and returns his smile, Eddie’s pulling at his lips with resistance. Richie reaches up a hand and pushes a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear. “Have you eaten today?”

Eddie shakes his head before thinking it, blurting out a “no” without controlling himself. Richie’s face falls and his lips turn to a frown, eyes thinning. “Are you hungry?”

Eddie shakes his head again. “Not now.”

Richie sighs and rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s okay. Can you eat a little bit later though? Maybe some fruit snacks?” 80 Calories. It’s not the worst, but not the best. 80 calories for such a small pouch of gummies.

“Yeah. I have to get all of this stuff put away first.”

“Let me help, what do you need?” Richie asks stepping around Eddie and seeing the closet to the washer and dryer wide open, clothes spilled on the floor in front of the machines.

“Help. I need help.” Eddie laughs at Richie’s face, looking down at the large pile with wide eyes.

“Okie dokie.” Richie responds, a joking tone on his voice.

-x-

Richie brings Eddie’s record player into the hallway, plugging it into a wall outlet and placing The Cranberries vinyl on the record, lowering the needle onto it. The speaker's crackle before the music starts playing, and Eddie grins at Richie, kneeling in front of the clothes, beginning to separate lights from darks.

They sort quietly together, Richie making jokes about Eddie’s mom and how he doesn’t have to hide her bra’s he’s ‘already seen Sonia Kaspbraks award-winning rack’ Eddie cringes and throws his jeans in Richie’s face for that comment.

Eddie switches last weeks laundry into the dryer while Richie starts to put the lights in, Eddie reaches down to grab some clothes to help when he freezes, the fabric in his hands dropping to the floor. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with disgust and he doesn’t know if to vomit or lay down, his eyes lock onto the orange shirt he wore when Patrick touched him, used him. His breath goes shallow and tears blur his vision, a hand goes across his shoulders and Eddie flinches. “Don’t touch me right now!” Eddie yells.

His back begins to tickle as bugs crawl up and down it, a buzzing in his ears so loud he has to cover them and bring his head to touch the wooden floor. He can hear his name in the distance, somewhere far far away. “Go away! Go away! Just get out!”

He can’t hear himself scream but his name is no longer being called and nobody is trying to touch him. He curls into a ball on the floor, fingers over the orange shirt not daring to touch it but knowing that its there, his eyes still tightly closed.

When he finally opens them it’s dark, moonlight breaking through the kitchen windows and the small yellow light in the laundry closet illuminating the hallway. Eddie sits up and uses the warm dryer to stand. “Richie?” Eddie calls out, taking shaky steps towards his bedroom where a light comes underneath the door.

Eddie trips over the record player, The Cranberries vinyl breaking as the player falls, crashing against the wooden floor. “Hello?” Eddie croaks again, palms hard against the wall to support him as he walks, his legs feeling like Jell-O.

He opens the door to his room and sees Richie sitting on the end of his bed, head hanging and curls preventing Eddie from seeing his face. His head jolts up when he hears the door open and Eddie can almost hear his heartbreak when he sees Richie’s swollen, red eyes, and blotchy face.

He’s seen Richie cry before, but never like this.

“Wha-Wha-“ Eddie begins but is silenced by Richie standing up and taking Eddie’s hands. Eddie doesn’t flinch but he holds onto Richie tightly, mind buzzing and crowded. “What happened?”

“C-Can I touch you?” Richie asks, sniffling.

Eddie nods, eyes widening as the missing intervals of time add up. This is the second time this has happened since what Patrick did, where Eddie will be doing something and periods of time will go by without any recollection, only the physical effects remain. The first time it happened, Eddie ended up halfway down the driveway with a bleeding arm and scratch marks up and down his arm.

Richie’s hands are soft against Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie leans into them. “You scared me so bad, Ed’s. I didn’t know what to do. You kept yelling at me to get away and to stop touching you… I just wanted to hold you. You-You were so scared.” Richie breaks once again, another wave of tears pushing past his eyes. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s neck and leading his boyfriends head to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, feeling guilt rise like bile. He’s so overdramatic, he should be able to control this. Not act like a fucking child.

“Don’t be sorry, Ed’s. You just scared me.” Richie moves his head off Eddie’s shoulder and puts two fingers under his chin making Eddie look up. “What was going on in your head?”

Eddie knew he would ask, Richie, being a concerned boyfriend after all. Especially after the phone call, which up until now Eddie was thankful, Richie didn’t bring up. Richie’s thumb strokes Eddie’s cheek, biting his lower lip and waiting patiently for Eddie to talk.

Eddie’s lip wobbles and a tear slips past him and down his cheek. “I-It was so bad Rich…. it was all my fault.”

Richie hugs Eddie again and moves him over to the bed, holding the smaller boy. “What was bad, baby?”

Eddie presses the side of his head against Richie’s chest and a sob escapes him, shaking his body. He can’t calm himself down to even talk about it. “H-He-“

“Deep breaths, baby boy. Can you breathe with me? Listen-“ Richie does a slow breath and Eddie struggles to follow, still hysterically crying. He can’t help himself, thinking about it is bad, talking about it is worse.

“My cousin P-Patrick-“ Eddie takes Richie’s hand and hold tightly onto it, wanting to make himself as small as possible. “He touch-“He and Richie both stiffened. “He touched me. He used me.”

The sobs come back, loud and shaking his body. Richie doesn’t know how to hold him or how to comfort him, it’s such a traumatic experience and you can’t hug the shame and sadness out of somebody. But he tries his best, rocking his boy and kissing the top of his head.

Richie’s hand is steady on the back of Eddie’s neck and he whispers to him that it’s not his fault. He’s such a strong person and he loves him so so so much.

It takes almost 2 hours for Richie to get Eddie to calm down, and when he looks up his eyes are swollen and painful looking. Richie frowns and kisses his eyes, then his lips. “Let’s get you in bed.”

Eddie hangs onto Richie’s neck as he stands, keeping his blurry vision locked onto Riche’s face, letting himself be vulnerable and taken care of. Regressing to an age where being vulnerable was allowed, where he wasn’t raped or mentally abused. When everything was okay.

Eddie’s back touches the comforter and Richie runs a hand through his hair, smiling sadly at him. “I wish there was more I can do. I’ll kill him.”

Eddie shakes his head. “No.” He feels another wave of tears come, chest beginning to harden with anxiety. Richie lays down next to him slowly, wanting to make sure that Eddie is comfortable with him being so close.

“Aww, Baby boy,” Richie says sadly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just cuddle.” Eddie says voice muffled when he presses his face into Richie’s chest, his wet tears soaking into Richie’s shirt, but he doesn’t mind. Not a bit. He wouldn’t even think about pushing him off. Richie reaches around Eddie, taking the stuffed animal and setting it near Eddie’s hand, smiling when Eddie wraps his small hands around the animal, tucking it into his chest.

“You’re safe with me. I won’t let him near you again. You’re safe.” Richie whispers, to Eddie, to the room, to all of the molecules and crickets listening through the screened window. He falls asleep with his arm numb, but wrapped tightly around Eddie’s small body, tracing shapes into his hipbones which feel more prominent than they did last week.

He frowns remembering that Eddie never ate.

Chapter Text

-x-

Stepping on the scale with his clothes discarded to the floor, Eddie places his hands stiffly at his side, taking a deep breath and then relaxing. He stands there for a minute, not wanting to see the numbers but knowing he has to.

He opens his eyes to the warm embrace of the beautiful numbers, 123.5.

It’s a breath of fresh air. He wasn’t expecting to lose this much. Maybe 4 pounds while he was fasting, not losing a pound a day. Only two more days until Eddie has been fasting for a week. He’ll feel so accomplished and valid.

Riche says Eddie has an eating disorder, but according to the BMI chart that Eddie picked up from the pharmacy, he’s still a normal weight. And he has to be underweight to have an eating disorder. Eddie can see the dips in his skin where it clutches onto his ribs, and he can hold them even more now when he sucks in. How stupid he was just last month to think he was skinny.

He’s not even skinny now, he’s a bit fat, but definitely better looking. He loves how cold his hands are against his skin, they remind him of just how important being underweight is. Tiny. Tiny. Tiny. There are some things people will never understand, and the satisfaction of going from fat to underweight is one of them.

Richie could go on about how beautiful Eddie is for days, kiss every inch of his skin, and tell him that he’s perfect the way he is. But Eddie is always going to want more from his body, willing to do anything to get there.

-x-

Eddie passes his mother in the living room, stepping into his running shoes and tying them up. His mother looks at him with her normal careless expression and then her eyes swim with questions. She opens her mouth to speak and then closes it, opening it again.

“Just be careful.” Is all that she says. But its enough for Eddie to start asking questions, since when does his mother worry about him. When is the last time she told me to be careful? 

Eddie’s sneakers hit the pavement of the sidewalk and he starts running, he focusses on objects further away because they always made him get there faster, or he stares at the sky and almost misses the turn off the sidewalk. Sweat dampens the side of his head and Eddie bites his lower lip, pushing himself to keep running.

His breath is coming out in uneven paces, and his brain echoes with the sound of his heart. Eddie stops to catch his breath, bending over on the sidewalk and placing his hands on his knees, wheezing. Blood rushes in his head and it thumps loudly. He’s two miles away from home, even though he can swear he just started five minutes ago.

Eddie looks ahead of him with a foggy vision, his vision mixed and blurry in the corner of his eyes, meeting a gas station. Air conditioning. That's what he needs. He walks at a slow pace to the gas station and once inside, he realizes how barren and empty it is. The cashier looks up from a word search with worried eyes and she comes around the corner. “Oh god, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Eddie says, exasperated. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“O-Of course, it’s in the back.”

Eddie follows where she’s pointing, head still pounding and hands shaking, when he gets inside of the bathroom he locks the door and turns to the sink, running the cold water over his face. It drips off his nose into the sink and he does it again, rubbing his hands on his sweaty face and letting the cold water touch his collarbones and run down his arms.

There’s a knock on the door and Eddie jumps, turning off the sink. “Just a minute!” He yells weakly, taking a paper towel and dabbing it over his face. When he opens the door the cashier is standing there, still worried. Eddie wants to groan for her to leave him alone but she raises a water bottle in his face and he takes it without hesitation.

She sits him by the large fan behind the counter and dials his mother on the phone. The only person who Eddie will let pick him up. If he were to call any of his friends they would freak out and tell Richie, and if he told Richie, he would know that he’s been lying to him.

When she puts down the phone she turns back to Eddie, her arms crossed. “You do know its 99 degrees out.”

Eddie nods and takes another sip of the water. “I’ve been running in weather like this before.”

“Why are you running? You’re skinny, you don’t need to lose any weight.”

Eddie looks at her confused and almost laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. Skinny. He’s flattered, but really? Looking at the mirror in the bathroom all Eddie could see was a pathetic chubby kid trying to run, and failing miserably. This whole situation is embarrassing… he should start walking back home. But he can’t his legs are practically Jell-O.

She sighs and returns to her word search. “Just drink your water and relax. Your mom will be here in like five minutes.”

Eddie leans against the wall as the large fan blows cold air over him. He reaches over, slowly to ensure that nothing catches the cashiers eye, and steals a pack of cigarettes off the cigarette wall, tucking them in the pocket of his running shorts.

He closes his eyes and listens to the 60’s tunes coming from the gas station speakers.

-x-

His mother and he don’t speak on the ride home and it reminds him a lot of their ride to her sister's house and back. But she keeps looking over at him, especially his fidgeting legs. When they get out of the car and inside the house, his mother stops him from going to his room.

She sticks a large, meaty, arm out blocking him from moving and Eddie’s chest bumps against her arm, and steps back in fear of what happened the last time him and his mother had a talk. However this time, his mother’s face is worried. “Eddie, can I talk to you?”

Eddie nods slowly and his mother sighs. “I know we’re not on the greatest terms right now, but I’m worried about you.”

“Why? I’m fine.”

“I had to pick you up from a gas station two miles away because you were about to pass out. You look like shit Edward.”

“Thanks, mom.” Eddie scoffs. He knows he looks like shit, he’s too heavy, his skin is discolored and he’s probably shivering right now, the coldness of his house getting to him. “Can I please go shower now? I feel disgusting and I’m supposed to meet Richie at his house.”

His mother closes and opens her eyes in frustration. “You’re not going to ride your bike over there-“

“Are you kidding me-“ His mother sticks up a hand to5 stop him from talking and Eddie closes his mouth, biting his tongue. Is she really going to stop him from going to his own boyfriend's house?

“I’m going to drive you.” She says, and Eddie is filled with relief, and he’s touched? He doesn’t know what to say, his mother has not offered to do something for him in what seems like forever. It’s as if she’s actually caring for him.

“Um… thank you. I’ll just-“ Eddie passes her and knows she’s watching him as he disappears into his room. His mom watching him as he goes.

-x-

Eddie knocks on Richie’s door and is met with a bone-crushing hug. Eddie can hear the rumbling of his mother's car on the street, and then the popping as it drives away. “I missed you.”

Eddie laughs and lets Richie lead him into the house. “It’s been a day.”

“Well, you should just move in with me then,” Richie says and Eddie smiles, getting Maggie Tozier in the living room and Went on the couch next to her reading the newspaper. Richie pushes Eddie onto the bed and crawls over him, dipping his head down and connecting their lips.

“Mmm. I really missed you.” Richie says, continuing to kiss him and moving his lips down to Eddie’s neck where he sucks at the skin softly. Eddie lets his hands wander through his hair, tangled in the mass of long, thick curls.

Eddie bites his lips as he feels Richie’s against his, a fire sparking in his abdomen. 123.5. He’s worthy of this, finally. Richie’s hips rock against his and Eddie presses the back of his head into the bed, then there’s a knock on the bedroom door and both of the boys gasp and stop, their erections pressed against each other.

“Y-Yes?” Richie stammers out.

“Uh, I was wondering if you boys wanted anything from the s-store…” Maggie Tozier replies, her voice awkward and embarrassed. Richie looks down at Eddie with question and Eddie shakes his head.

“No thanks, mom!” Richie calls back and Maggie’s footsteps fade away as she walks down the hallway. They wait a minute before Richie smirks and they resume making out. Now loudly as they wanted, no restraints on their moans or giggles as the house was empty beside them and Richie’s dog which laid on the couch, head in its paws.

-x-

The purple lights of the arcade swell around them as Richie aggressively plays PAC-man, Eddie standing behind him smirking as Richie curses and jumps. “Eddie, oh my god! Oh my god! Holy fuuuuuck!” Richie gasps when he runs into a ghost, dying instantly, 12 points away from a high score.

Eddie puts a hand on Richie’s shoulder and smiles. “All good things must come to an end.”

Richie turns around and snakes his arms around Eddie’s waist, his long fingers tickling at the small of Eddie’s back. Richie leans against the arcade game, spreading his legs so Eddie can stand between them and get as close as possible, his head on Richie’s chest. “Yeah, whatever, I was so close to getting a high score.”

Eddie giggles. “Remember when you said you were going to spend all summer in an arcade, and you violently played these games every day.”

“Ugh. Let’s not talk about those years, I was so awkward.”

“I loved it,” Eddie says endearingly, kissing him on the lips. Richie pulls back from their kiss with a large smile and runs his hand up and down Eddie’s back before leading his boy out of the arcade back into the sunshine.

“Are we going back to your house?” Eddie asks as he gets into the passenger's seat of Richie’s car. The leather seats are worn and his car radiates the smell of cheap cigarettes and old air freshener. Eddie looks into the cupholder where he finds a sticky spot in it, from a Slurpee, and loose change. Fifteen cents exactly.

“No, I want to take you somewhere else,” Richie says, winking at Eddie. Eddie considers it as a surprise so he doesn’t press Richie on spoiling the surprise and instead kicks his feet up on the dash like he always does and Richie turns up the radio.

Their hands slide together, intertwining, and Eddie bops his head to The Killers, his converse tapping too. The sunlight passes through the trees as Richie accelerates on the roads of Derry, Eddie closes his eyes behind Richie’s sunglasses— content.

It feels like the first time in a while.

Then Richie’s hand begins to sweat and it goes stiff, no longer rubbing circles into Eddie’s hand. “You okay, Rich?” Eddie asks, tilting his head back to look at his boyfriend. Richie is biting his lip and his face is screwed up in numb concentration.

“Richie?” Eddie asks again, sitting up, but then his eyes lay on the police station in front of him. His heart falls and he feels like falling from a rollercoaster. His eyes flicker from Richie to the station in disbelief before he opens his mouth, unable to find words.

“W-Why-“

“You deserve to charge that sicko. He’s a danger to you and the public.” Richie answers stiffly, not looking at Eddie. “I called last night so that you could go in today and tell them what happened…”

Eddie is gobsmacked, he wants to do so many things. “You… you motherFUCKER!” Eddie yells pushing Richie’s shoulder, his face filling up with red, hot, anger. “You never ASKED me what I wanted to do? Did you?”

Richie doesn’t answer, only infuriating Eddie more. “You never asked me if I was ready to do this! Maybe I needed some time to you know come to terms with the fact that I was RAPED?!”

Richie slowly turns his head to Eddie, still biting his lip. “I did this for you…”

“Without asking me. Without talking to me. You threw me into something I wasn’t ready for.”

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” Eddie says, unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing open the car door, slamming it and walking towards the direction of his house. He might pass out, whatever, but he cannot stay another second in that car with Richie after he did that.

He should’ve talked to me. He should’ve been supportive of me wanting to wait to mentally heal first. It’s not like I’m going to forget being raped.

He can’t forget. He never will.

Eddie continues walking in the hot sun towards the suburbs, every step and thought only adding to his anger towards Richie. I’m not talking to him.

Richie doesn’t come after Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t care. 

Chapter Text

-x-

Richie calls Eddie daily, and multiple times a day too. But every time he lets the phone ring or his mother picks it up and tells Richie that Eddie is sleeping. But on the third day of Eddie not talking to Richie, Eddie wakes up to knocking at his window.

He knows it’s Richie but he’s not giving in. No way. Eddie rolls over with his back to the window and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the persistent knocking… until it continues 5 minutes later. Eddie grunts and throws the blankets off his body, stomping over to the window and opening it. He wants to yell at Richie, but he closes his mouth instead, biting his lip.

That’s what Richie wants.

“Please talk to me.” Richie pleads. Eddie steps away from the window and sighs. Richie takes the opportunity to hoist himself into Eddie’s bedroom and close the window behind him. “Fine— don’t. But I want to talk to you.”

Eddie sits down on the end of his bed, watching Richie lean against his orange wall. “I’m sorry, and I should’ve talked to you before I told them. But I was worried that you wouldn’t do anything so I pressured you…”

“I just want you to do whats best for you, Eddie. I care about you a lot, and I love you. I want that motherfucker to be locked up.”

Eddie frowns and crosses his arms. “It was shitty.”

Richie sighs. “You know I can’t just go back and tell them ‘never mind’, they’re going to start asking you questions… soon.”

Anxiety builds in Eddie’s stomach and his heart begins to race, head going fuzzy. “You have no idea,” Eddie says, gritting his teeth. “Just talking about it is making me freak out… I can’t believe you pressured me- no, you didn’t even do that- you threw me in.”

“I said I was sorry! I don’t know what to do!”

“Neither do I, Richie! I’m fucking sick to my stomach over the whole situation!” Eddie yells, standing up. He doesn’t care if he wakes up his mother in the living room, he doesn’t care about much. But the rage he’s holding up bubbles in his blood, and angry tears form behind his eyes. I’m not crying in front of Richie.

“I understand that you’re scared… but I’m here for you. All of us.”

Eddie freezes. “You didn’t tell everybody else did you?”

“No. I’m not telling anybody anything…”

“Good,” Eddie says sharply. His hands itch for a cigarette, and he knows the box is under his pillow screaming for him. A purple lighter right beside it.

“I’m worried about you Eddie.”

“Don’t be.”

“What- Why? I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to worry about you. I can’t help myself not to. You’re the only thing that matters to me, that's why I did this— even if it was wrong.” Richie steps forward and places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie nearly flinches.

He doesn’t want to be touched and he just wants Richie to leave and get out of his room and not come back. The idea of being alone is so appealing… “Please leave,” Eddie says softly, moving his shoulder away from Richie’s hand.

“Ed-“

“I just want to be alone right now. Please.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be alone, Ed’s! What are you going to do to yourself?”

“STOP TREATING ME LIKE A CHILD!” Eddie shouts, finally losing control. “All you do is worry about me! I feel like I can’t breathe! Just leave!”

“You don’t mean that…”

“I DO! AND I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

Richie’s face falls and his hands move towards Eddie, but Eddie flinches away. “Y-You want to break up?”

Eddie’s head swarms with thoughts, he never said that— but it feels like that. He’s happy with Richie, but he can’t breathe over his protectiveness. He needed the one thing Richie wouldn’t give him. He wants to be alone, he wants to think, cry, maybe binge and purge. He wants to feel the pain and forget the pain all at once if it’s even possible.

Eddie looks down at his feet because he can’t bear to see the look on Richie’s face when he answers. His heart is already crumbling. “Yes.” He says, and it tasted like poison on his mouth.

There’s an overwhelming silence that drowns the room, stopping both of them from breathing. Eddie sees Richie’s feet move to the back of the window, the tightness in the room loosening with every step.

“I love you, Eddie."

He’s out the window before Eddie can apologize and take it all back, pull Richie in through the window and lay down with him, rest the side of his cheek on Richie’s chest and listen to Riche tell stories as he regresses to a simpler time.

Richie will turn over and tickle Eddie’s sides, then run his fingers playfully over his tummy before blowing raspberries. Eddie will laugh so hard he cries and Richie kisses his eyes with a chuckle in his throat.

It all seems so far away now.

Eddie goes back to bed, sliding underneath the covers and bringing them over his head before letting out body-shaking sobs. How did it get so bad so fast?

Nobody knows.

-x-

Nightmares occur often, even when he’s napping on the couch— so his mother gives him sleeping pills but it doesn’t take away the nightmares, just this time he’s stuck there and unable to wake up. But the nightmares of eating an entire buffet, syrupy french toast, or dying are better than waking up to an unmoving, uneventful world where he has to live knowing Richie is just 10 minutes away.

So when his mother isn’t looking he takes 2 more.

-x-

His hair is permanently tossed and while he sleeps all day, he feels so tired and drained, void of life. He wakes up when the sun is down and goes for walks. The winds pick up and the tips of leaves begin to change color, fall is coming.

Which means school starts in just two and a half weeks.

He goes to the Quarry and lights a cigarette, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. He wishes it was taller. He thinks about dying often like Richie was the straw that broke the camels back— and after that everything else turned to shit.

Nothing else matters.

He walks on sidewalks and wants to jump in front of a car, lay on the train tracks, find the handgun that his mother keeps hidden somewhere in his house and press it against his temple.

They’re graphic fantasies of dying, and he likes knowing that it’s always an option.

In his mind he has visions of him and his friends splashing each other, laughing, jumping together. He used to sit on Ben’s shoulders to play chicken fight and hold his breath with Beverly. What are they up to? Did they forget about me?

Eddie knows he’s pretty difficult to forget, but he’s easy to ignore.

He stomps out his cigarette in the spot where they used to stand and goes home, his pills should be kicking in any second now.

-x-

Sonia cooks him dinner and he takes it to his room and scrapes it out the window into the bushes. His tongue has turned white and everything makes him dizzy. He can feel the bones in his body move and shift when he does.

8 days of consecutive fasting have caught up with him and every night he debates breaking his fast, but he has to be skinny. He must get there.

His hands are cold as ice and he lives under sweaters and layers and socks. His lips have a blue tint and after the initial shock of it, he realizes that it looks— good. He looks good. But that isn’t an excuse to stop.

That evening his hair falls out as he’s running his fingers through it. An abundance of strands lay in his palm and he does it again, and again, and again, more and more hair coming out each time.

He remembers reading about how anorexia nervosa sufferers lose hair.

Anorexia Nervosa sufferers.

But he feels like a wannabe kid when in the back of his mind he starts thinking that maybe he should stop before he gets too sick. You’re not sick you just want to be like them.

He bodychecks and goes to sleep.

-x-

120.3 this morning

I can do better

-x-

118.7

That’s better.

-x-

The blood runs down his arms and he looks at the open wounds numbly before driving the razor blade into his thigh. The gashes are bigger, more severe now. Not severe enough to go to the hospital, but severe enough to leave purple scars and require huge bandages.

His whole arm is covered in bandages and he likes the weight of them, they remind him of what he does to himself. Who he is.

-x-

Beverly pounds on his door until he opens up, standing in front of him out of breath and holding a bag of fast food. He can smell the saltiness of it, and the brown back has spots where the grease has soaked through. He imagines sinking his teeth into a burger, the ketchup moving through his mouth accompanied by cheese and a soft bun.

“Eddie, you look terrible.”

He doesn’t expect anything besides the truth from Beverly, that’s what she’s known for out of all of them. That's why they all clear their outfits, haircuts, anything under her. But the comment stings him but brings out a sinister joy in him. I look sick.

She steps inside and looks into the living room at the empty chair where Sonia usually sits, having gone to work just an hour ago. She drops the bag on the dining room table and turns around to look at Eddie, her expression changing from angry to sad and back to angry.

“What’s wrong, hon? We call you every day and you never answer… it feels like you’re fading away. You look like it too. Come to eat.”

Eddie shakes his head but still comes over to the table and sits across from Beverly. Just one french fry. Have a fry.

No. NO! You can’t!

“I… I just want to be alone,” Eddie says honestly and Beverly frowns.

“What does Richie think?”

“I don’t know.” His heart sinks thinking about Richie, it does often, but more so now as Beverly is sitting in front of him, asking about Richie, not knowing what happened. He feels so stupid. She’s going to hate him for breaking up with her best friend.

“You don’t know?”

“We broke up,” Eddie says, his lip trembling. Beverly’s eyebrows press together in confusion and her eyes close to slits.

“You broke up?”

Eddie holds his head in his heads, tears dripping onto the table. “I’m sorry, I regret it. As soon as I said it I felt terrible, and now I feel even worse. I’m such a shitty person. I’m so sorry I did that to your best friend-“

Beverly grabs his wrists, fingers encircling them and overlapping. “You’re my best friend too.”

Eddie looks at her with watery red eyes and a stuffed up nose. “I broke up with him.”

“That doesn’t change anything. You don’t even have to tell me why if you don’t want to. I just came here to check on you.”

Eddie sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

-x-

Eddie doesn’t eat with her and worry rises in her chest. He says that he’ll eat it later, he’s just not hungry right now. But considering that his lips are blue, and his hands are cold as ice, and there is a white sheen on his tongue— she suspects there are other things going on.

She goes to Richie’s house next, except he looks more sad and pitiful than sick, a pout remaining stuck on his face. They sit together on his house playing on his dads Atari and drinking coke. Beverly wins and Riche pushes her onto her back, tickling her and calling for a rematch.
His playful side comes through before it goes away, disappearing behind that stupid frown.

“Richie, what happened with you and Eddie?”

“Wha-“

“I went to his house to check on him because he hasn’t been answering his phone and he told me that you two broke up.” She takes Richie’s hand and squeezes it. “If you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to, I was just curious— you know how I am.”

Richie looks down at their hands and Beverly’s chipped purple nail polish. “I did something I shouldn’t have.”

Beverly stays silent, giving him the opportunity to tell her if he wants to. He does.

He tells her about what happened to Eddie on his family vacation and can’t bring himself to look anywhere besides their intertwined hands.

“I told the police and thought that it would be a helpful push in Eddie beginning to talk about it… I didn’t know he would take it as a shove and a slap to the face. They’re still going to question him, they might even go to his house…” Richie starts crying, moving his fingers under his glasses and rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Your heart was in the right place, Rich,” Beverly says, ignoring her own feelings of hitting him upside the head and yelling at him because you should never throw a rape victim into something like that. But he’s so broken, he feels terrible. He knows it was wrong.

If she were to rub it in, it would just be worse.

“He broke up with me. And I don’t know what to do.” Richie stops crying and takes a deep shaky breath, Beverly’s thumb runs over his knuckle grounding him. “Maybe we weren’t meant for each other, I don’t even know if he loved me in the first place.”

Beverly refrains from saying anything, letting Richie vent. She’ll tell him how upset Eddie was later, how he should brush his hair and go over there and hug that little boy.

“Fuck. Fuck. I just need to forget about it… you know. There will be more people that I fall in love with, right? And not all of them will work out.”

“Right,” Beverly says softly and Richie looks at her, his eyes moving from sad to curious. She’s about to call out his name before he kisses her on the lips, his moving against hers. She doesn’t close her eyes, and she doesn’t push him off.

When Richie pulls back, his face is now swarmed with guilt and regret. His shoulders shake and Beverly opens her arms, Richie falling into them. His head rests against her chest as he lays on his side, long legs tucked against his chest in a fetal position. She holds him and kisses his head as he apologizes over and over.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”

She holds him like that for what seems like hours until he falls asleep and his mother comes home. Maggie replaces Beverly’s spot, holding her son and kissing her temple, thanking her for taking care of her boy.

“He’s my best friend. I’m always here.” Beverly says.

-x-

“I’m going to work now, Eddie,” Sonia calls from across the house and Eddie doesn’t respond, too focused on the popcorn ceiling. He waits until her car drives off before he goes to his record player and puts on an Elton John record, turning it up as far as it can go.

He takes a shower and changes his clothes, brushing his hair and making it looks somewhat acceptable before going to the kitchen and grabbing bottles of half-full prescription drugs.

These are carefully thought out steps, he knows what he’s going to do. And he’s numbed up so the thought of killing himself isn’t even scary. He drops the bottles on his bed and fetches a glass of water. He should take off his sweater so he doesn’t have to die in the clothes he’s been wearing for days… but who’s going to care?

His mother will find him, and she’s seen him in these clothes for days. Nobody is going to care, and he’s just fooling himself thinking that somebody might.

There are no colors in the world, and his happiness has been sucked up and dispersed to other places. He stares at the picture of him, Richie, and the other losers on Bill’s birthday. He’s probably with them now, eating pizza and watching a horror film, thankful that they don’t have to be disturbed by the presence of their crazy friend.

Beverly is probably repeating what Eddie said in mocking tones, making fun of him and the others join in.

He doesn’t cry.

The pills are a rainbow of different colors and he counts them all before taking them in his hands and swallowing them.

Pill after pill and the numbness still remains.

Even with large gulps of water, he still gags on them. He throws away the empty pill bottles and then takes three of his sleeping pills so he can sleep through this.

He doesn’t want to know what it feels like to have your liver shut down.

He smokes two cigarettes in his room because who cares anymore and opens a window to let the winds in. He lays down on his bed without getting under the covers and spreads out his arms like he’s flying. Time ticks by and he thinks of Richie.

The sun is behind his eyes and he falls asleep to a lullaby that he’ll never hear.

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time.

Chapter Text

-x-

Eddie wakes up in a soft bed, sinking into the mattress and scratchy sheets touching his chin. He shifts sighing uncomfortably at the dull, sore pain in his lower back. In his dreams, he always imagined that "heaven" would have comfier beds than this, or is he in hell.

However, despite the diminishing pain, Eddie feels the rest of his body well rested. It's an odd feeling as he hasn't felt this rested in what feels like years. But the emotional pain is still there, he misses Richie, and then his dad. Maybe he's here- Eddie just needs to look for him.

Straining open bleary, sleep-crusted eyes, Eddie was met with bright florescent lights beating down on him. After a couple painful seconds of his eyes adjusting, Eddie can see properly, finding himself staring at a white ceiling, not a benevolent blue sky. Looking around the room, Eddie realizes that he's in the hospital. His mother has dragged him here many times, declaring him with an exotic disease and requesting blood tests and a million other examinations. Eddie abruptly sits up with a gasp, the sheets falling off of him. Why am I alive? No. No. No. NO!

He's so stupid, how could he have survived? The plan was perfect, his liver was supposed to give out before his mother ended her shift- he would've been dead by the morning! The door to his hospital room flies open and a nurse stands in the doorway, grabbing a clipboard and looking at him with wide eyes. "Mr. Kaspbrak..." She says surprised and Eddie stares at her expressionless, he wants to get these fucking IV's off him, and he wants the heart monitor to stop beeping, he wants to go home and pretend like this never happened.

"Good afternoon, I'm glad you're awake. How are you feeling?”

"Fine?" Eddie says but it sounds more like a question. Of course, he's fine, that's what's expected of him, isn't it? The nurse comes to his bedside messing with the cords connected to his arm and pressing buttons... the EKG finally stopping.

"Your mother will be back shortly, she stepped out for a bit, she's been here for quite some time." The nurse says, her surprised tone leaving and being replaced with a bored, authoritative voice.

"How long have I been here?”

"The doctor will be in soon to fill you in on details." She says, almost dismissing him with a wave of her hand like he's nothing. That's how he feels sometimes.

"No!" Eddie yells the nurse turns around quickly stepping back. Eddie can tell that she finds him dangerous, her hand hovering over the pager attached to her hip. He's angry, concerned, sad--he has a million feelings going through him right now and he just needs her to answer just one of his questions. Eddie takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, calming himself down.

"How long have I been here?" He asks again, this time more calmly. He feels bad for shouting at her, and it's not for any other reason than the fact that he failed at killing himself- which is mortifying.

"Three days... you have been in a coma for three days." She answers and it silences Eddie, his eyes falling to the sheets outlining his legs and picking at the loose threads. He nods but he doesn't care if she can notice it or not. For three days, he tip-toed the line between life and death, why didn't he die?

"I'm going to call up for your lunch now, you need to eat... your body is deprived." She says quietly before leaving his room, closing the door behind her. Deprived. If only she knew... or maybe she does.

The discernment hits him like a train, noticing that his clothes are gone and he's changed into a hospital gown. His arms are uncovered, angry red scabs across them going in different directions, all of them different sizes. What if they send him to the asylum? He's not crazy.

The food comes and smelling it makes Eddie's stomach churn- he hasn't eaten for 11 days and by now food is just unappetizing. He's relieved that it's not a feeding tube though, he would take anything over the feeding tube and the thousands of calories that are in every drip. He's read about them in the anorexia nervosa textbooks and people had them going through their nose and also in their stomach.

A different nurse pulls a table over his bed and then places the lunch tray on it, opening the top and the smell of cheesy lasagna intensifies swarming the room. "Do you need anything else? There's water in this cup." The nurse asks, putting a straw through a styrofoam cup and moving it towards Eddie.

"No, I'm okay.”

"The requirements are you half to at least eat half and bathrooms are off-limits for an hour after the meal." He says like it's old news, but this makes Eddie's heart drop... if he eats he has to purge, and half? The tray is filled with a large bowl of cheesy lasagna, three slices of densely buttered bread, brown rice, and a cantaloupe cup.

The nurse leaves the room, however leaving the door open this time and Eddie has a staring contest with his food for five minutes before he comes back, scolding Eddie for not eating. "You either eat this or we go to other alternatives. It's not a choice anymore.”

Eddie picks up the cantaloupe cup with the nurse's eyes on him and opens it. He stabs one of the fruits with his fork and brings it to his lips, feeling the wet cold mixture on his skin. The nurse clears his throat and Eddie moves his lips around the piece of fruit, sucking on the juice and then biting off a small piece.

He nearly moans when it hits his tongue, the taste overwhelming it. There's no other word to describe it except phenomenal. After 11 days of not eating, Eddie couldn't even taste diet coke anymore, it was as everything was bland tasting and disgusting. The only thing he would accept was a few sips of water and a lot of the days... he went without that too.

But because of his newly awakened taste buds, the artificially sweetened fruit tastes like a five-star meal, something he wouldn't even dream of eating because of the caloric content. Thirty seconds later he swallows, the coolness slipping down his throat into the empty well of his stomach.

He broke his fast... 11 days. It's not bad... but it isn't good. Oh, what he would do to be able to weigh himself before eating. He must have lost another two pounds, 116 lbs. The number is sweeter than the cantaloupe and Eddie finishes it with a gratifying vigor. Breaking his fast on cantaloupe isn't the worst thing he could've broken it on... and if he has to eat at least half of the food on his tray he'll choose the cantaloupe and the rice.

After the fourth piece, his never-ending headache ends. Eddie stops and takes a shaky breath, it's just cantaloupe, but he's still breaking his fast, something he worked so hard to achieve. He reminds himself that he can always go longer next time, he knows what not to do—attempt suicide.
Fifteen minutes later he finishes the small cup of cantaloupe and after the nurse checks on him for the third time to make sure that he's not throwing his food away, and finds him still eating cantaloupe he scolds Eddie again for taking too long to eat.

"The rest of your food is going to get cold and we don't have the time to send it back down to the kitchen and nuke it. I suggest you hurry up.”

So Eddie does and wipes the sugary juice off of his fork before scooping up rice. It tastes bland having the flavor of a cardboard box but Eddie persists, he's not going to eat the lasagna or the buttery bread. No way in hell.

The numbness in his lower back is gone halfway through the rice, and on his last bite, his arms stop shaking. He drinks all of his water and it feels like life is seeping back into the fog that hung over his head for the past 11 days without a break. It feels good to break his fast in a way, so many negative things happened on it and he feels like he's letting go of it. He still won't touch the food though, he eats half and that's all he plans on eating.

The clock ticks on and minutes later a large figure stands in Eddie's doorway dressed in a waitressing uniform.

"Mom," Eddie says to her. Sonia looks at him with sad eyes and then moves into his room, sitting in the blue chair next to his bed.

"Hi, Eddie.”

The silence is awkward and Eddie breaks eye contact with her, returning to pick at the threads on his sheets instead of engaging in a conversation with her. He doesn't what to know what she told the doctors, or what she thinks of the cuts on his arm. Frankly, he doesn't care.

"I'm glad to see you eating," Sonia comments looking at Eddie's half-finished tray. Eddie gives somewhat of a smile, he's not happy that he's eating but if it keeps his mother content than he's fine with it.

"I found you, you know. I'm not sure if they told you... but I did.”

Eddie doesn't have an answer to this and doesn't display a reaction although internally he's freaking out about how embarrassing the situation is. Of all people his mother, who just recently started giving a shit about him again... probably because he's under 125 pounds.

"They let me off early because I told my boss that you weren't feeling well, so I went home and you left the pill cabinets open... you were barely alive when the ambulance came. It's a miracle that you're here."

No, it isn't. "Yeah," Eddie responds his voice a deep whisper.

"Eddie, baby- talk to me. I'm here for you and I'm sorry that I wasn't before. But I love you, so so much.”

"There's nothing to talk about.”

Sonia lets out a sob and then covers her mouth with her hands. "I lost your father, I can't lose you too.”

The pain in Eddie's chest grows when she says that and Eddie takes a shaky breath trying not to cry himself. His mother has only expressed vulnerable emotions a few times in his life, one of them being his fathers funeral and the days that came after it. She's not a quiet crier and lets out body-racking, wall-shaking sobs that either irritate the hell out of you or break your heart.

Eddie isn't either, he's just numb.

"Please stop hurting yourself, eat, I'm sorry I called you chubby. I will do anything for you to be happy again... I will even get you those brainwashing video game systems that you love." She pleads, fat tears rolling down her fatter face.

"I'm going to try," Eddie says and Sonia nods, biting her wobbling lips. The nurse comes back into Eddie's room and observes his tray before picking it up and taking it out of the room. The doctor comes in next with a smile that is too happy and bright for their location.

"Good afternoon, Eddie!" He nods at Eddie's red-eyes mother. “Sonia."

"I'm Doctor Garner and I'm going to be giving you your psychological evaluation." He says cheerfully. "Mom, I'm just going to ask a few questions about his medical history if that's alright with you.”

He starts listing infectious diseases and his mother replies yes or no or fixes her ‘yes’ by saying that it was her trying to shelter him. Although when the doctor says ‘eating disorder’ his ears catch on and he looks to his mother desperately as to tell her to answer no. If they find out they might put him on a feeding tube, or send him straight to inpatient recovery. They will connect all of the dots and find out that everything that is happening is spiraling because of this stupid fucking eating disorder.

If Eddie would've eaten the day that Patrick... touched him… he wouldn't have gotten so drunk, he would've been able to protect himself. It’s his fault... it's all his fault. His mother holds her breath as her eyes meet Eddie's. "No. No eating disorders.”

He feels invalidated but relieved, he told her to do that for his own sake. So that he doesn't get fat... because that's what recovery does. Or that's what he's heard from the textbooks. He's not even skinny enough, what are they going to put him in for? Being pathetic? You have to have a BMI of 18 in order to have anorexia... Eddie's is a 20.

"Alright then, that's all the questions I have for you, Sonia. Eddie, if you'll come back with me." He says and Eddie throws the blankets off of his body standing up slowly. There are not as many black spots this time as there were many times before... and it makes his stomach fall. Fat.

Following the doctor down the long hallway, Eddie takes the opportunity to look into other rooms, there are mostly girls. Girls eating lunch, girls not eating lunch hunched over their tray with their shoulder bones sticking out, triggering Eddie to want that. They are worthy of being here.

He feels isolated and invalidated like he did a girly thing... going crazy and trying to kill yourself is something that girls do.

Eddie wants to throw up but his steps follow the doctors into another office, where he sits down on a couch and the doctor sits behind a couch. The greeting and introduction to the evaluation are stupid, he knows this is a safe space, and he knows that he's not in any danger... but his eating disorder and everything that goes on inside of his head is so special and personal to him, he's not ready to let go of it. He’s not even sure when he started calling his eating disorder an eating disorder. 

"So what's going on that made you consider overdosing?”

"I didn't mean to overdose, I just took too much medicine.”

The doctor sighs and puts down his pen, clasping his hands together. "There's no use lying to me Eddie, I see patients who are in the same position as you all the time. If you didn't know, we run tests on everybody who comes in with an overdose to see what they overdosed on so that we can find a stabilizer. Your tests came back showing that you overdosed on Benzodiazepines, sleeping medications, and pain medication.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak then closes it instead, there's no use trying to convince the doctor that his suicide attempt was accidental. Eddie gives up and slumps in defeat, watching the doctor jot down notes and tick boxes.

“What’s your home life like?”

Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of the glass of water in front of him. “Fine. I guess, it’s better now.”

“Better now? What do you mean?”

“My mother used to ignore me and we fought all the time… we don’t anymore.” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s telling the doctor these things but he does and mentally slaps himself every time he opens his mouth and something comes out. The questions keep coming and soon Eddie finds himself losing track of what questions he answers and doesn’t answer, he feels so numb and lonely. The doctor's pen flies across the paper and Eddie watches the rhythmic wiggling of the pen to settle himself.

However, out of everything, he leaves out the eating disorder and what happened with Patrick. He needs the eating disorder to survive and he’s burying the trauma of that night deep inside of him, hoping to push it away.

“Alright, Mr. Kaspbrak, I’m going to review these notes and I will get back to you shortly. One of the nurses will escort you back to your room. Have a good evening.”

“You too,” Eddie says while standing and following one of the nurses down the same long hallway. He hopes he doesn’t have to stay here long, walking hallways and answering questions. It’s a life that he doesn’t know if he can stay sane living.

-x-

On the third day of his stay at the hospital, Eddie is diagnosed with a major depressive disorder and told that he can go home. He takes his prescription and is accompanied to his mother's car and puts on his seatbelt without making eye contact with anybody. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the seat, feeling his mother get into the car and turn it on.

The drive home is quiet, the radio filling the silence and lulling Eddie to sleep. When they pull into their driveway Eddie slowly gets out of the car and makes his way towards the house. Once inside, he goes straight to his room to sleep, locks the door, and buries himself in his bedsheets.

-x-

He sleeps on and off, feeling sadder every time he wakes up. He misses Richie and his friends… he feels like his entire summer has been spent by himself being sad, numb, angry, an alphabet soup of feelings. He cries sometimes because this isn’t how he imagined his life would be. He wants more for himself… but he doesn’t know how to get it.

His school supplies list come in the mail along with his schedule and he doesn’t bother to look at it, he doesn’t want to go back to school. His mother orders pizza and Eddie eats it, but she watches him for the next hour and by then it’s too late to purge. He can’t find his laxatives and he feels like he’s farther and farther away from himself every day.

Eddie sleeps, wakes up, takes his medicine, eats a bit, then goes back to sleep.

It’s a routine he’s familiar with.

-x-

Waking up with someone stroking his hair is the best feeling in a long time. He regains consciousness slowly, slipping in and out of sleep lulled by the soft stroking. When he opens his eyes he sees large glasses and very curly hair.

“Hey, Eddie,” Richie says softly, taking his hand away.

The rain taps against Eddie’s window and his room is engulfed in a dark blue glaze accompanied by the glow of lamplight. Eddie whines and reaches up his hand bringing Richie’s back down to his head. Richie laughs, his laugh thickened by tears.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Richie says and Eddie knows what he’s talking about. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Eddie says and they fall into a comfortable silence once again, listening to the rain, the thunder outside, and each others breathing.

“Where my mom go?” Eddie slurs, opening his eyes once again.

“She’s at work, she called me and asked me to watch you.”

Eddie nods and begins to sit up and Richie helps him, placing a hand on the small of his back. “I’m sorry that I betrayed you, Eddie… I was just worried. I shouldn’t have left after you broke up with me. I wanted to hold you so bad, but I thought that you hated me.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Chee. And I could never hate you.”

Seconds pass before Eddie lunges at Richie, wrapping him in a hug and crying into his neck. Richie hugs him back tightly and strokes his back, whispering sweet words into his ear and rocking him. “It’s okay now, I’m here and I’m not going to leave you.”

“I love you so much.” Eddie sobs.

“I love you more, baby.”

Eddie cranes his neck up and their lips meet, it feels like resurfacing after drowning. They kiss for a long time, lips moving against one another and Eddie finds his abdomen lighting with a lustful fire. He wants to feel Richie against him, inside of him.

He moans into the kiss taking Richie by surprise and lowering himself onto the bed, Richie moving on top of him. He can feel Richie’s member rock hard against his thigh and it only pushes him further into his craving. Richie breaks the kiss once Eddie wraps his legs around Richie’s hips, pushing them together.

“E-Eddie, I don’t know if we should.”

“Why not?” Eddie says, pushing Richie’s curls behind his ear.

“I-I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Richie, I want this. Please.”

Their lips meet again and Richie’s lips move from Eddie’s lips down to his neck, biting, sucking, blowing against the sensitive skin. Eddie’s hands pull at them hem of Richie’s shirt, whining. He needs to feel him or he’s going to explode.

Richie sits up on his knee’s and takes off his shirt before asking Eddie permission to remove his. Eddie nods, unsure. He feels fat, he doesn’t want Richie to be grossed out by his body. But his shirt comes over his head and Richie mumble’s into Eddie’s neck. “So beautiful.”

He leaves kisses all over Eddie’s face and Eddie giggles. “God, that fucking giggle is going to drive me crazy, baby boy. Your cheeks are so perfect and these little freckles.” Richie nips at Eddie’s nose.

“And your body is perfect, you’re so breathtaking. I love your curves.” He kisses down his sides, then across Eddie’s stomach. “I love your tummy, so perfect.”

Richie takes Eddie’s sweatpants off revealing his rock hard member outlining his boxers. “My little, beautiful, baby. I love you so much.” He kisses Eddie’s thighs, then the inside of them, licking the wet spot on Eddie’s boxers where there’s precum.

“Richie…” Eddie whines, his face is red with embarrassment and need.

“I won’t ever stop telling you how beautiful you are.”

And he doesn’t. They take their first time slowly, full of lust, warmth, and love. It’s not painful like Eddie remembers with Patrick, and he doesn’t even think about him. This is different, he’s safe here with Richie. There’s nothing that could hurt them.

He hasn’t felt this safe in a long time.

“Fuh-Fuh, Richie.”

“Goddamn Eddie, you’re tighter than Stan’s mothe-“

“Shut up, oh my god Richie. You’re literally inside me and making mom jokes…”

They both laugh and it feels new.

Chapter Text

-x-

Junior year is different than all of the other years. Everybody is worried about college, always talking about it. People have post-high school plans and Eddie can barely think about the next second.

He plans on having a “fresh” school year— hoping that the stress and work from school would take away his eating disorder… it rather added to it. As late summer became fall, his lunches got smaller and smaller, and the losers know from experience not to comment on his portion sizes, as it triggers Eddie and turns into a fight that ends in the losers not talking to each other for days.

Scared about the future, he finds new places to cut but Richie discovers them all when the lust gets the better of them both and Richie tenderly kisses his slits and reminds him that it doesn’t make him less of a person. Days become nights and Eddie takes refuge in the soft moments with Richie where he can regress and forget that he’s a struggling junior and just think about snuggling and kisses.

Then he surfaces from his underwater dream and the scale isn’t low enough, he’s eating too much food, and he’s fat. Crying out for help in the quietest voice, wanting to stop but needing the hunger more and more every day. It’s what centers him in math class and what makes him feel okay.

Called into the guidance councilors office because his teachers are concerned, he lies through his teeth that he’s fine, then skips 6th period to break down in the bathroom where Stan finds him with red eyes and a snotty nose.

But he wakes up the next morning a pound lighter.

And that’s all that matters.

-x-

-THREE MONTHS LATER-

"I was working in the lab late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise”

“He did the mash!”

Richie grins at him zipping up his boots as Eddie bounces to the familiar song watching himself sing without a care in the world. Dressed up as the band Fleetwood Mac, Richie being Mike Fleetwood and Eddie being Lindsey Buckingham.

“You look adorable.” Eddie hears from over his shoulder and he smirks, turning to Richie. “You look hot.”

Richie pulls Eddie between his legs, looking up at the small boy and rubbing circles into his hip bones. “The losers will be over in 15 minutes,” Eddie says softly, stroking his finger along Richie’s cheek and then over his lips.

“What are you implying?” Richie says, knowing fully what Eddie means but wanting to hear him say it.

“I think you know what I’m implying…”

“That we could watch an episode of teenage mutant ninja turtles before they get here?”

Eddie scoffs hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “No, stupid. I mean  that it would be a shame if we let us being in these hot ass costumes go to waste.”

“I still don’t know what you want, Ed’s.”

Eddie rolls his eyes than sits on Richie’s lap fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “Sex.”

Richie chuckles and kisses him deeply sticking his hand up his shirt and feeling his back. “There it is.”

“They did the mash
They did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash”

-x-

They finish minutes before the losers arrive at Eddie’s house with a box of cheese pizza dressed up as the rest of Fleetwood Mac. Beverly, who proudly took the role as Stevie Nicks, hugs Eddie tightly whispering that the white spot on his top complimented his outfit a smirk in her voice.

He laughs and greets the others, Stan, Peter Green. Mike, Billy Burnette. Bill, Christine McVie. Ben, Bob Weston. The pizza sits on his table laughing at him, taunting him, telling him that he isn’t enough but Eddie centers himself on Richie’s terrible Australian accent that he uses because he claims it “gives him character”

“It makes you sound like an idiot,” Stan says.

“Your mother didn’t think so.”

The pizza box opens by the force of Mike and the voices and taunting only get louder. You can’t eat that, you’re fat. Fat. Fat.

“Do you want pizza?” Richie asks him, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist from behind. Richie still smells like sex and Eddie wants to drag him back to his bedroom, shut off the whole night and just have sex. But he can’t— his therapist tells him that shutting thing out only makes them worse. Besides, he would miss out on life, memories with his friends.

“Sure,” Eddie says and it feels like his body is going to fall over. It’s always fucking pizza with them, he doesn’t understand. Why can’t they have vegetables or applesauce? He admiringly watches Beverly eat hers wanting to know how she stays so beautiful and fit even though she eats it.

Just smelling it makes Eddie want to get back on the scale or take a jog. It would read the same as it did this morning, 95 lbs. By BMI standards, he’s underweight. When he checked he could finally breathe, tormented for so long by the fact that anorexics have to be underweight, he feels validated.

Say goodbye to being underweight.

The process of eating pizza is different for Eddie than it is for others. It takes precision, the right amount of chews, the food has to be liquid before he swallows it. Richie watches him closely to make sure he’s not spitting it into a napkin because he’s done that too. Richie’s learned the tricks and does everything he can to try and get Eddie not to do them without forcing him.

One of Eddie’s biggest fears is Richie holding him down and forcing him to eat, and they’ve had a couple close calls.

Thirty minutes later and there's only the crust of one slice of pizza that Mike eats, Eddie waits for the disgusting feeling to come and it does, but it doesn’t scream at him. It’s a dull reminder but most of him is focused on Stan and Bill making out on his living room couch.

“OKAY, you fucking losers can we go to the party now?” Beverly yells at them and they break apart with a loud smack. “Are w-we leaving now?” Bill responds still latched onto Stan’s side, his legs thrown over Stan’s.

“Yes, we’re leaving,” Ben says exiting out the front door and they all follow, cramming into Richie’s car. Eddie turns the radio up and Thriller starts to play. He leans back against the passenger's seat next to Mike and watches the golden sky turn tonight as they drive. It’s a weird feeling, not being screamed at.

-x-

They’ve never been to a party this big before and for a few moments, they don’t know what to do with themselves before Buddy Reeker tells them drunkenly that somebody spiked the punch.

“My party is fuuuucking huge! My moms gonna killllll me. You have-have NO idea.”

He stumbles off into the living room where people are dancing and Bill and Stan move to a nearby, unoccupied couch to make out while Mike goes dancing. Richie pulls Eddie into the red-lighted kitchen and picks up a cup dipping it into the punch.

“Richie you don’t know whats in that!”

“Unpredictability is my middle name, babe.”

Babebabebabebabe. It makes his heart flip and come out of his ears. “I thought it was Trashmouth.”

“Not tonight.” Richie takes a sip and shares his cup with Eddie. “You can’t even taste it.”

Eddie sips it and makes a satisfying sound, then sipping it more. “It kinda tastes good.”

Calories. But he dips another cup of his own and walks with Richie into the living room, dancing with him and nursing his cup.

After his second cup he’s buzzed, and halfway through the fourth he stumbles while trying to get to the bathroom, Richie hot on his tail. He catches himself on the wall and feels Richie’s arm move around his waist.

“Jesus, Ed’s. You’re really drunk…”

“I like it,” Eddie says emotionless still trying to get to the bathroom to empty his bladder. He finally reaches the dull light of the bathroom and Richie hangs back outside to give Eddie his privacy but also stay close enough to where he would be able to hear if Eddie were to fall.

Eddie holds onto the shower curtain for support while he goes, mumbling incoherent words as he feels himself become angry for unknown reasons. He wants Richie to go away and he wants to feel independent and be independent. He feels like a child who needs his parent and it’s aggravating. He’s sixteen— he should be acting like so.

“You okay, Ed’s?” Richie asks, knocking on the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He flushes and washes his hands but stumbles trying to get the towel over there rack and falls against the wall instead. The door bursts open almost instantly and Richie squats in front of Eddie, putting his hands on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Said m’ fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re drunk.”

“Stopppppp, Rich-cheeeeee.”

“Stop what?”

“Taking care of me. Want to do it on my own.”

“But I like too, I need too.”

“Nooooo.” Eddie whines, moving his head breaking Richie’s touch against his face. “You-You act like you know everything!”

He knows that he’s being mean to Richie, and he feels bad for it, but he has to take his anger and frustration out… he’s pitching it to Richie. He’s not a child that needs to constantly be watched over, he’s sick of it. His mom watches him during meal times to Eddie has to find new ways to hide food or make it look like he’s eating more than he actually is… he has to go on scavenger hunts for the scale and hide things from his therapist so that she doesn’t report back to his mom and say that she needs to watch him even more.

And if his mom knows, she tells Richie, and if Richie knows, he tells the others.

His life is under lock and key, and it’s not his own lock.

“I thought I did!”

Eddie scoffs, his head hits the wall with a thud. “Do you know how many calories I ate today? 238 from that slice of pizza and 87 calories from an orange. That’s 325 calories. 25 calories over what I wanted. And I don’t even want to think about the calories in the punch I drank, it’s overwhelming. I’m fat, Richie. Why can’t you fucking see that?”

Richie opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, his flushed face turning pale.

“I smoke cigarettes daily. I still cut myself. I hate myself and who I am. I have dreams where I eat french toast coated in syrup, or that I step on the scale and-and-and I’m obese!” Sitting against the wall, he can feel his shoulder blades pressing into it uncomfortably, the hard tile floor is hell against his bottom and his knees are so tightly pressed together he’s sure he’ll bruise tomorrow.

He can feel the bones every second, he can see them when he lifts his shirt or when he stands naked in the bathroom, but they’re not prominent enough. The gap between his thighs isn’t big enough and he can’t wrap his fingers around his bicep. I’m not good enough.

No, no you’re not.

The voice comes just as quickly as it went, blaming him for the pizza and the orange, for the calories in the punch. He didn’t have to eat it. He’s a professional at faking illnesses, and most people believe him nowadays when he says that he’s sick. Nobody wants to push him over the edge and now he’s here, standing on the veryveryvery tip looking down into the deep blue water knowing that even the slightest push could send him falling.

He’s never been this close before and it’s reliving and scary all at the same time.

“When did you start smoking?” Richie asks, his voice low. He’s angry now and Eddie gets a sick thrill from it.

“It doesn’t matter! It-It-It- why do you care?”

“Because I care about you! Fuck!” Richie’s voice raises and he stands up quickly, slamming his hands on the bathroom sink.

“Well, get over it.”

Richie glares into the mirror before swiveling around and grabbing Eddie’s bicep pulling him up wordlessly. It’s not the gentle Richie touch Eddie’s used to. It’s rough, angry, finished.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. Richie throws open the bathroom door, dragging him back into the middle of the house stopping when Eddie notices Beverly in front of them. Her and Richie are talking and she keeps glancing at Eddie with worried eyes.

Then his vision tilts again as he’s moved outside, Richie’s grip still tight on his arm. He wants to yell at him to stop but he’s said enough… and he’s starting to regret it all. Taking out the anger he has for himself on Richie, who hasn’t done anything wrong to him.

“Get in the car,” Richie says through gritted teeth and Eddie does whats asked of him, slipping into the passenger's seat of Richie’s beat up truck and hazily looking at the house as people in costumes gather on the porch and inside. He can hear the thump of the music outside of the house and the feeling of sadness swallows him.

“W-Where are we going?” Eddie asks, swallowing his tears.

“I’m taking you home. And then I’m leaving.”

Eddie’s heart falls and his chest is hit with a cold that isn’t due to temperature, but anxiety. “Why…”

“Because I don’t care about you. And I don’t care what you do once you get home. But I am going to make sure that you get there so that you don’t end up entrusting your way home in a stranger.”

Eddie pulls his legs to his chest and turns to look out the window, beginning to count the street lamps they pass on the way to his house. The ride is filled with an awkward, angry silence and Eddie has every inclination to open the door and jump out, or roll down the window and let in fresh air so he can escape the dense one that he’s trapped in, but he’s scared to move as he would only piss off Richie more.

He regrets it so much.

They’re going to break up.

And it’s all going to be his fault.

It’s all your fault.

The car stops and Eddie expects to be kicked out but instead, Richie turns off the car, getting out and Eddie follows once again. They round the house to Eddie’s bedroom window and Richie stands on his toes opening it.

He looks behind him to Eddie and steps aside, prompting Eddie to go through the window first. His room is warm and the same when he gets inside, but once Richie follows their safe haven becomes as stiff as the car and Eddie sits down on the end of the bed, picking at his nails.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Eddie blurts, still avoiding eye contact. “M’ just angry. At you, my mom, our friends. And I don’t know why.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’msorryandIloveyou.”

Silence answers him and if Richie has left than he doesn’t notice… and he won’t notice until he finally looks up from his nails that are beginning to bleed. But then the sound of boots against his carpet walking towards him and the bed dipping answers, and Eddie is relieved. You lucky piece of shit. He should have left. You don’t deserve him.

“Why do you do these things to yourself?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. It makes me feel better.”

“But you’re hurting yourself in the process.”

Eddie sighs. “I’ve lost the ability to care about what happens to me or my body. If you or one of our friends were to tell me that I looked sick or like a skeleton, I wouldn’t care. In fact, I would feel accomplished.”

Richie doesn’t touch him, and Eddie’s heart thumps craving to hold his hand. “I don’t know how to help you anymore…”

“I don’t have any advice to give you on how to help me. I don’t know how to help myself… I don’t know if I want help.”

“I feel like you don’t want me here. That you don’t want this.”

This time, Eddie looks up, tears brimming his eyes. “No! No, I do. Just a part of me doesn’t. A part of me wants you to leave and not come back because then that just leaves my mom to care for me, and we both know that she’ll get tired in a couple of weeks. Then I can just hurt myself and nobody will pay attention.”

He wipes at the tears falling down his face and he notices Richie’s expression change from numb to sad. “I love you, and I appreciate you. I want you here… I’m sick in the head, Richie. And I wish that I wasn’t, I want to be good enough for you. You deserve to have somebody a thousand times better than me, not somebody with mental baggage the size of the world.”

Eddie breaks eye contact looking back down at his shoes and the dirty carpet. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracks and he stands up leaving his bedroom and going down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He reaches into the shower turning it on, a spray of water hitting the porcelain of the tub. He strips out of his costume, discarding it to the tile floor. He stares at his costume, thinking about a Halloween went to waste before getting into the shower and sobbing once the water hits his body.

Richie is going to leave, and Richie deserves better. The razors are tucked away in his room and he curses himself for not remembering to grab them, but he submerges his face in the spray of water, his tears mixing with it, stopping his crying.

You’re pathetic.

Twisted by his own self-hatred and crying a question he doesn’t know the answer to, he wasn’t able to hear the bathroom door open or somebody taking off their own clothes, and the shower curtain opening and closing. Arms go around his waist and he melts into Richie, both of them sinking to the bottom of the tub wrapped in each other.

Richie whispers into Eddie’s wet hair and Eddie holds onto him with everything that he has if he lets go Richie will leave.

Richie rubs Eddie’s back and leaves featherlight kisses across his face, crying himself. The fuzzy feeling in Eddie’s head comes back on the realization that Richie is palpably caring for him, showing him the affection that he doesn’t recall having as a child.

The water turns cold after half an hour, but their hearts are still warm. They’ll love each other despite the sharp broken glass pieces in each other's personalities. So be it if they cut themselves every once in a while, they need the pain sometimes.

-x-

Two days later and the sun is shining once again, not just the god-given sun above but the one inside themselves. They said goodbye to Beverly, as she was the last one to leave, fifteen minutes ago but they still sit on the rock facing the glittering waters of the Quarry, letting their skin be kissed by the warmth.

It’s one of those days in the fall, where a bit of summer slips in to remind them before the coldness of winter takes over. There’s a festival in town, but they’re fine right here.

Richie squeezes Eddie’s hand and they share a kiss. Eddie places his head on Richie’s chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. They’ve said “I love you” more times in the past two days than they ever had before, and it’s beautiful every time.

The losers are always teasing Eddie about the permanent flush on his cheeks and he flips them off.

He closes his eyes in relaxation, but then Richie’s heart picks up and Eddie stirs uncomfortably at the quickened pace. “You okay?”

Richie doesn’t answer but he sits up instead, still holding Eddie’s hand. “I wanted to ask you in a special way, but I’m kind of out of ideas…”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in question and Richie takes a big breath, wishing good luck to himself. “Homecoming is next weekend, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me… as my date?”

Eddie starts laughing, his body swelling with joy and he cups Richie’s cheeks. “You thought I would say no?”

“I don’t know! You make me nervous! You’re the hottest person ever.”

“I make you nervous? Richie, you’re gorgeous.”

“We’re dating.”

“I know.”

“So why are we still nervous?” Richie laughs and Eddie joins in, still chuckling when they kiss, and smiling when they make out and have sex in the shade of the trees as the afternoon passes, birds chirping above them.

When they’re laying together once again Eddie’s stomach grumbles and he flushes, hoping Richie didn’t hear. But Richie, observant as ever slips a hand over Eddie’s stomach, rubbing circles into the skin. “Are you hungry?”

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

“Yeah, I am. Can we get french fries and milkshakes?”

Hungry.

Chapter Text

-x-

Music bubbled from his radio as Eddie sat in the chair by his desk flipping through everything he owned looking for his ticket. The bow tie that his mom had on him was a bit tight for his liking and every few seconds he was tugging at it and groaning.

“Hey, mom!” Eddie yells holding the collar as far from his neck as it would go.

A few seconds passed before he heard the TV mute and her yell back. “Yes?!”

“Do you know where my homecoming ticket is?”

“No!”

Eddie huffed and sat back in the chair perplexed before a thought popped into his bed. Moving over to his dresser and feeling around in the piles of his pajama clothes he felt the wrinkled-leather cover of a journal. He pulled it out and stared at the cover, turning to the bookmarked page where his ticket was.

Moving back to his desk Eddie reached for one of the strawberries in the bowl he made for himself, licking off the sugar before biting down into the sweet, juicy fruit.

September 16.

I lost 5 pounds and I have a gap between my thighs. I like how Richie looks worried when I take my shirt off and I like counting the ridges on my ribs. I can’t press my knees together for long without them hurting.

My head spins whenever I sit up and I think that I am worthy.

I’m not beautiful… but I’m not fat anymore. Just porky.

It’s better than being the whale that I used to be.

Eddie runs his finger across the words etched into the paper with a cheap blue pen. Their scrawly and would be discernible to anybody else. He wrote this one in a hurry.

He’s gained weight since Halloween, ever since he’s been eating again. Every day he wants to stop, begin again tomorrow and eat 300 calories. Try loosing 10 pounds in 10 days. But when he wakes up the next morning and passes the kitchen after a run, he wants eggs and ketchup.

And if he ignores it, he wants a two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.

And if he ignores that, he wants pasta and red sauce for dinner.

And if he ignores everything, he eats the entire kitchen for a midnight snack. He’s disguising, and he knows it every time. But he doesn’t have the control that he once had, it’s disappeared somewhere and he’s been trying so hard to find it. It doesn’t come.

Towards the middle of October, purging became difficult. His fingers only brought up saliva and his toothbrush only choked him. He’s tried everything, massaging his throat, sucking on ice coated in salt, spinning in circles drinking a diet coke, standing on his head.

His therapist told him that his gag reflex was gone.

It would be a long time before it would repair itself again.

He told her he wanted to stop binging and he just wanted to eat normal, healthy meals like all of his friends. He was tired of the back pain and the puffy face. Of his stomach being so full that it hurt to move and to breathe.

She told him to stop starving.

He’s gained 3 pounds. He wants to care, but he doesn’t. He chews on the strawberry and pulls out the ticket, hiding the journal back in his clothes. He’s not going to throw it away. Not yet.

-x-

The rumble of a beat up truck comes up Eddie’s driveway and he looks out the window watching Richie get out of the driver's side and straighten his blazer. He looks beautiful, handsome, sexy and Eddie feels the fire in his abdomen heat up.

He’ll die if they don’t fuck in the back of Richie’s truck tonight.

Richie walks up to Eddie’s house and Eddie pulls away from the window waiting behind his mother already at the front door. His heart racing, he jumps when Richie knocks on the door and nods for his mom to open it.

“Good evening, Ms. Kaspbrak,” Richie says in a deep, gruff voice. Eddie smirks and steps from behind his large mother, heart jumping through his chest and onto the floor.

“Wow.” Richie’s mouth falls open and Eddie bites his lip, blushing. Richie clears his throat again and looks back to Eddie’s mother, his voice deepening again. “Is there a certain time you would like your son home?”

Sonia fights back a smile, a little part of her does like Richie, though she would never admit it, even on her deathbed. “Just go. Have fun.”

Eddie moves forward, his and Richie’s hands interlocking like puzzle pieces that fit. “Thank you, Ms. Kaspbrak. I will take good care of your precious small-bean-miracle-puppy-dog-fairy-prince.”

They pull each other onto the porch and out to the driveway, eagerly silent until they round the block, Richie pulling off to the curb before Eddie throws himself into Richie’s lap lips connecting and moving against each other.

Riche’s hands move down his back, cupping Eddie’s ass and Eddie moans into the kiss pressing his hard member against Richie’s abdomen. Richie sharply inhales and pulls away. “We have to be at Bill’s in like fifteen minutes if we want any food.”

“Make it quick,” Eddie says and Richie smirks, latching his lips onto Eddie’s neck, sucking away. If anybody were to drive by and see them like this, it would undoubtedly be the most embarrassing thing. But who’s going to stop at the end of the block and stare out their window into Richie’s?

Stan would.

And he did.

-x-

Richie has his arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist, Bill, Stan, Mike and his girlfriend Amanda to their right and Ben and Beverly to their left. Bill’s mom stands in front of them holding a polaroid to her eye. “Say cheese!”

Eddie sucks in a breath feeling his ribcage touch the fabric of his clothes and smiling. It’s a habit he has during pictures— suck in. When he’s in t-shirts his collarbones are visible in the pictures and when they take pictures in their bathing suits, the ridges of Eddie’s ribs show up in the dusty vintage quality of a Polaroid picture.

He lets out a breath when the flash comes spotting white in Eddie’s vision and he blinks around them leaning into Richie. Richie kisses the top of Eddie’s head, rubbing his side. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah. I did actually.”

“Good.”

-x-

They go to eat at Joe’s BBQ because everywhere else is jam-packed with kids out for their fancy pre-homecoming dinners. Beverly wanted to have one of those, go sit at a nice seafood restaurant and click their glasses together, but when have they ever been normal?

The restaurant is full of older people coming to spend their Saturday nights at the musty smelling BBQ, playing pool and poker waiting for something. Eddie holds the menu in his hands and his head spins with disordered thoughts, he searches for the lowest calorie item on the menu… a cup of coleslaw. Considering the size of the cups, and how small they are, he’s guessing it’s about 50 calories.

He remembers coming here with his mom and trying the coleslaw, how soggy and gross it was against his tongue, tasting like mayonnaise and plastic salad mix. And he remembers the mashed potatoes he ate also, how soft and buttery they were.

Richie’s arm is still around Eddie’s waist, rubbing circles into his hip bones and Eddie bites his lip. He’s confused. He doesn’t understand how to do it— to eat properly. It’s like he forgot that terrible summer and now everything is a number.

But it’s his junior homecoming. He’s dating Richie Tozier. And he has the greatest friends in the world. Beverly throws the paper wrapping of her straw at him and it hits against his chin and he smirks, wrapping his and Richie’s together and throwing it down her cleavage.

“What a shot!” Richie exclaims and they all erupt into laughter, squinting their eyes and leaning against each other. Beverly fishes it out and throws it back at Richie. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever!”

Through the evening coated, golden dusty windows of the run-down BBQ restaurant Eddie counts the freckles on Richie’s cheeks instead of the calories in his food.

He orders mashed potatoes and corn on the cob.

-x-

Glittering streamers are hung on the ceiling of the gymnasium a large disco ball in the middle of the floor flashing specs of silver across every surface. The lights are off and between the tight spaces, Eddie can discern the smile of his boyfriend between the reflection of the blue DJ booth and Ben’s all white suit.

Richie sings Simple Minds holding an abandoned high heel in his hand using it as a microphone and tilting it towards Eddie. “Don't you forget about me!” Everybody is singing and dancing, jumping until their legs and throats are sore. Hands in the air and yelling just for the hell of it.

The heat from all of the other bodies around him is making Eddie sweat and he can feel the dampness under his suit. He feels disgusting, fat people sweat.

Actually, sweating is just how the body regulates its temperature… and it doesn’t determine if you’re fat or not. The thought passes when Richie holds him again, the music turning down to a slow song. Single-goers leave the floor to get a drink, people ask others to dance, Eddie looks up at Richie and brushes a curl behind his ear.

“You look so beautiful right now,” Eddie says, running his thumb along Richie’s cheekbone.
“And you’re a goddess in a thrifted suit.”

Eddie laughs and his head falls onto Richie’s chest. He can feel Richie’s hands on his back moving up and down, holding him, caring for him. The love he has for him is undeniable, and if he could do it without being shot by a homophobic coward he would go tell every person existing that Richie Tozier is his boyfriend.

That after months of dreaming of this, it’s here. Richie loves him. He always did.

He hugs Richie closer and breathes in the smell of him, sweat, cheap cologne, and the barbecue sauce he dropped on his jacket and tried cleaning up with his own spit.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Richie lifts his chin up and wipes away his tears. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie shakes his head and smiles. “I just love you.”

They dance together, swaying to the rhythm of cliché love songs in the dim light as the muffled music from the gymnasium breaks onto the street and the parking lot where parents wait for their kids, and teenagers smoke blunts sitting on top of their cars.

And in this moment. Eddie doesn’t know how many calories were in the eggs he had for breakfast. Or the carton of strawberries he had.

Or the delicious mashed potatoes and corn he had for dinner.

And he’s not even planning what he’s going to eat when they go to Denny’s after this and consume waffles at midnight.

But he knows how much he’s loved.

The calculator in his head rested unable to add the stars in Richie’s eyes and how his arms felt around Eddie. It was more than 300. And that was okay.

It’s gonna be okay.

Chapter Text

-x-

-THREE YEARS LATER-

He woke up to the whirring of a fan propped up on an unpacked box and the heat from an uncovered window against his back. He twisted uncomfortably feeling the sweat-damp against his naked body and kicked off the covers, but it didn’t make it a lot better.

He sat up and blinked around their small apartment room hearing the footsteps from their neighbors above and the cars outside. Rolling out of bed he moved over to the fan, moving the knob to the highest setting and sighing in relief when the blades moved faster pushing more cool air onto his face.

Stepping around labeled boxes of clothes and junk that he decided would come with, Eddie moved into their connecting bathroom and turned on the lights, a sharp artificial yellow light blinding him. Seconds pass before his eyes adjust and he is able to relieve himself without a pain in his eyes. He flushes and turns on the sink, washing his hands and brushing his teeth.

Standing shirtless in front of the mirror his eyes fall to his skin. He turns to both sides and moves around watching how his ribs appear and disappear under the skin. The last three years haven’t been easy, he’s been inpatient twice and he doesn’t even remember how many days he spent with a feeding tube up his nose, dripping nutrients into his system.

He’s fasted for weeks and then fainted at the gas station trying to buy diet coke and a box of laxatives. He’s cut so deep, nobody thought he would be saved. The relapses have been countless, and he was tired of being caught in a circle of eating normally and then eating nothing. But he comes out of them every time a little stronger.

He’s not fully recovered, but he’s getting there.

Spitting into the sink and gargling with water he feels the spots where two of his molars are missing, gone from being broken down and ruined from stomach acid. He runs his fingers through his hair and feels where his hair is beginning to grow again after falling out from malnutrition. He takes a deep breath before reaching into the medicine cabinet to take his pills for anemia, and then for bone pain, and then for OCD.

His body almost shut down… and now it's his choice to care for it. Nourish it.

He didn’t deserve what happened to him, he doesn’t deserve to have an emancipated body or to be so small he feels invisible. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and Patrick knows that firsthand after he was sentenced to prison for what he did to Eddie.

It's like the book to his old life is closing.

This is a new book.

“Spaghetti! Open up!”

Eddie jumps as Richie pounds on the door and he unlocks it, facing Richie.

“I don’t have anything important to do, I just wanted to kiss you.”

“You scared me!”

“Sorry?” Richie laughs, kissing him. Richie moves into the bathroom and pulls his shirt over his head, tucking it into his jeans. He reaches for his toothbrush and turns on the sink as Eddie slides onto the counter, watching him.

“Duh yuh ha’ chlass tuhday?” Richie asks while the toothbrush is still in his mouth, toothpaste foaming at the edges of his mouth.

“Yes. Not until later though. It’s only communications, I might not even go.”

He’s a freshman at the University of Southern Maine, and Richie decided to come with him for the ride. They bought a run-down, slum apartment 12 minutes away from the college and are living on pennies, but they couldn’t ask for anything better.

Richie’s in a band and working at a pizzeria, delivering pizza’s and telling jokes for tips while Eddie is doing an internship at a car dealership and studying.

Richie spits into the sink and wipes his mouth. Eddie smiles at him and rubs off the bit of toothpaste left on his chin. “I love you.”

Richie’s hands go around Eddie’s hips then tap his bottom, kissing him on the nose. “I love you too, baby boy. I’ll be back tonight. Wanna eat pizza?”

“Because it’s free?”

“Exactly.”

Eddie giggles. “Of course. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

They pull apart and Eddie tucks away the tag on Richie’s pizzeria shirt. “Have a good day at work.”

“Have a good day being you,” Richie says before leaving, locking the apartment door behind him. Eddie jumps off the counter and looks at the clock, 12 pm, 3 hours until communications class.

He puts on his sweatpants and one of Richie’s shirts and his old sneakers and goes for a run. He likes the way the sun feels on his skin, how he feels when he’s running through the air and how clear his mind is.
The bird's tweet and cars pass on the busy streets of Portland, Maine trying to get back to work from their lunch break. He runs by it all, going through neighborhoods and down city streets before he gets back into the apartment, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

He takes off his running shoes and closes his eyes feeling the emptiness in his stomach and running a hand over it. He stands up and turns to the kitchen, getting a bowl, the milk, and a box of cereal.

Eddie makes himself breakfast.