Chapter Text
It was a dance he was definitely familiar with. Eddie Kaspbrak had absolutely no idea how many doctors he had seen at that point. He couldn’t even give the pretense that he cared about any of it. His eyes were scanning the ground, counting the tiles silently, while he was distractedly playing with his nails, scratching them with his thumb. It hurt a little, helped to handle the lights that were too bright for his sensitive eyes and the “hum” that he could constantly hear in the doctor’s office, probably coming from his heater.
He barely listened to what was happening around him. Not that it really mattered. Eddie was definitely used to people talking about him without involving him in the discussion. He remembered being young and trying to answer himself to what the doctor was asking. But his mom kept shushing him, telling him that he didn’t know any better and that she was the one who knew exactly what was going on with him.
Eddie wished he had his comics or even one of the boring books he had to read for school, but he wasn’t allowed any of that when he was receiving medical consultation. He didn’t really know why, not that his mom seemed to be expecting anything from him. No, she was just touching him sometimes, complaining about how hard it was on her that her son’s sickness was never taken seriously, that no one was able to find a proper cure.
This doctor seemed a little bit different from the others. Eddie could hear him trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t care less. He knew that if he started to speak, his mom would prevent him from doing so, and he hated it when he was interrupted while speaking. Having to use his voice was like going down on a high-speed roller coaster, words spitting out of his mouth at an often ungodly speed, and being forced to stop suddenly was making him experiment some kind of whiplash.
So, Eddie was just waiting. Waiting for this new doctor to prescribe him some new medicine and for his mom to drag him out of the office, clutching in her hands the prescription that she would have been given. He knew this dance. It was always the same, with very little variation. If it wasn’t so boring, he could appreciate how predictable it was.
There was something relaxing about knowing exactly what would happen. It wasn’t like at school, where he was constantly wondering if Bowers and his goons might try to attack him, if someone would try to play a trick on him or whatever. He was always nervous, anxious, on edge. This feeling was creeping out on him all day long, and he often found himself unable to bear it, hiding in the bathroom despite how disgusting it was, isolating himself from the rest of the world.
But today’s dance was not like the other dances. His mom suddenly snapped at the doctor, her shrilling voice piercing Eddie’s eardrums, his hands violently clutching to his ears as a result:
“My son is not retarded! My poor baby is physically ill and that’s your diagnosis? That he should be in a mental institution?”
Eddie felt his heartbeat stopping for a whole second, his eyes widening. The thought of being locked away, without even knowing why, made his breathing get faster and, between two wheezing sounds, he managed to take his inhaler and put it between his lips. He pressed the button once, twice, thrice, before managing to calm himself.
They kept talking, talking and Eddie had troubles to follow what they were saying, like he was suddenly in Charlie Brown’s world and everyone was talking like the adults in the show. Barely any word managed to make sense in his head and, out of nowhere, his mom put her hand on his arm, her fingers gripping him brutally. He let out a yelp, the first sound that came out of his mouth since they arrived there, while his mother was dragging him out of the office. Eddie could feel the doctor’s look on him, but he was unable to decipher it.
He followed his mom as much as he could, thoughts swirling in his mind, his skin burning where his mom’s fingers grabbed him carelessly. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to know where he was and what he was doing. He barely registered that he was back in his mom's car, his mommy fastening his seat belt for him, like she always did.
He hated this car. It was noisy, smelly, and the seat belt was too tight, making him feel like his lungs and his ribs were crushed by it. He heard himself let out a distressed humming, and he tried to stop it as quickly as possible, not wanting his mom to hear it, but it was too late. Her hand grabbed his with too much strength, screaming with her loud and shrilling voice:
“Stop doing that!”
It was hard. Hard to stop himself from letting out this sound. Eddie did what he always did in this kind of predicament, clenching his fists and scratching his skin as discreetly as possible. He focused on the pain, the humming coming progressively to a halt until he was silent. His mom seemed satisfied, since she focused on the road, rambling about how incompetent this doctor was, that she was the only one who really knew her Eddie Bear and how sick he was.
Eddie found himself tuning out her voice, turning his head towards the window, his look focusing on the blurry sight that he was passing by. Soon, he'll be at home. In his room. Alone. Like he always was. Something inside of him wanted to take a leap of faith. To unbuckle his seat belt, open the car’s door and throw himself out there. Finally being a part of this world that he just saw through the car’s window.
Rolling in the grass. Climbing a mountain. Running without having to worry about his breathing. Finding friends. But it was just a dream. Eddie never dared to touch his seat belt while his mom was driving. It was dangerous. He could realistically die. He could die in so many ways in this world that was so, so dangerous for him.
Besides, he didn’t have any friends, and he was sure that no one would ever want to befriend him. He was boring. Weird. A clean freak, that’s what Bowers and his goons called him. A fairy too, even though he didn’t quite understand why. They had many names for him, names that he took for granted because no one else was telling him otherwise.
For his mom, he was fragile. Precious. Sick. People thought he was weak. They didn’t like to listen to him rambling about potential health hazards or the latest comic book he read. So he just shut up. Made himself smaller than he already was. And he let life happening around him, pretending that it didn’t bother him. But it did.
He barely registered that they were at home, that his mom was pulling him out of the car and dragging him to his room. He was exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than a little bit of peace. A quiet time. He obediently took his medicine, not even knowing which pill was for what. And then, he was on his bed. Finally alone.
He barely moved, curling up on himself, his eyes scanning his bedroom without being able to focus on anything in particular. Maybe he should do something. Read a book. Check that his stuff was ready for school, since he was going to be a high school student in just two days. Go to the bathroom and clean himself. Anything. Whatever.
But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t get himself to leave the bed. He was looking at the wall, blinking slowly, barely able to think about anything. Anything except what just happened. The word that his mom used kept playing back in his head. Retarded. Retarded. Retarded. He found himself whispering the word, repeating it again and again like a litany.
Was he retarded? Was that what the doctor was trying to say to his mom? Eddie found himself regretting not have listened to what the man was saying more closely. Maybe that was why he had all of these issues. Why life was so harsh on him. Why he was so alone. Maybe it was even why his dad died, when he was little. Because his son was retarded and he couldn’t bear the thought.
Eddie closed his eyes, his breathing getting high-pitched and a bit too fast. What if he really was? What if the doctor was right? His mommy… Would she stop loving him? He had no one else. If his mommy gave up on him, he… he would be all alone. And he didn’t want that.
Eddie had no idea when he fell asleep, tears rolling on his cheeks, his nails scratching his skin viciously. His sleep was plagued with nightmares, where he was sent to a mental institution, all alone in the whitest room ever, hearing screaming and crying and people begging to be let off. And his mom just abandoned him there. Because he was retarded, and no one liked retarded kids. No one.