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I hate him.
I hate the way he still shows up in my dreams like he has any right to.
Even dead, Eddie Kaspbrak still finds ways to crawl under my skin.
Eddie’s beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
He’s quiet, but every now and then he turns his head, giving me that cocky little glint in his eyes that always drove me crazy.
We end up at a bakery.
Cookies and pastries fill the glass case. For some reason, he buys me a bag.
His fingers graze mine as he hands it over, telling me not to forget to eat.
Then he takes my hand and squeezes it.
In that moment, I think that if the dream ended right there, I could live the rest of my life on that feeling.
But dreams are dreams, and they have no mercy.
And then I’m back there.
I see him in Neibolt, his face twisted in fear, on the ground, pierced through.
I feel him in my arms, his blood soaking my hands while I’m screaming at him to stay, to not leave me like this.
But he does.
He leaves.
I wake up drenched in sweat, my throat raw.
Outside, rain’s coming down.
I stay there, trapped and still, like a man frozen in place. trying to remember his voice, the warmth of his hand—anything that doesn’t feel like losing him all over again.
"I dreamed we loved each other.
I woke up and you weren’t there."