fearinfected

[fearinfected]

He would. For all his joking insults, Eddie couldn't imagine a world where Bill wasn't at his side - It had been that way since they were knee height, Bill coaxing Eddie into the sandbox despite his mom's warning that it a cesspool of disease. If only she could see him now, in a college bar of all places. It made a kindergarten sandpit look sterile.

“Thanks, Bill. Nothing says loyalty like watching my dating life implode in real time.” Following the other's gaze towards where a server might be, Eddie tapped his fingers against the table before wiping them quickly against a napkin. "Except nobody is gonna hit on me because... hello? Have you met me?"

"You would miss me," the older insisted with a grin, throwing a wink at his best friend over his shoulder while he claimed a booth for the two of them.

As soon as he sat himself down he sighed in relief. Just the fact that he was out of the library and away from his books made all of his worries disappear. Every thought of any pending exams were gone and all he really wanted right now was a beer. Preferably several.

"No girls this time. Got it. You want me all to yourself," Bill teased, catching the brunette's gaze briefly before he looked around for any sign of a server. Not that he had any objections to spending the evening just the two of them. "But if anyone comes up trying to hit on you I'm also not going to get in the way."

[fearinfected]

The human mind wasn't made to comprehend the stuff they'd experienced: Killer clowns, missing kids, the warping of the Universe as they knew it. And yet Eddie found that he'd accepted that shit a lot easier than the knowledge that he'd been knocked out cold for a month of his life. And Bill was still beside him even after it all.

"Great, okay. I check out for five minutes and everyone finds love and inner peace. Go figure." There's a pause, a hiss of pain as he shifts slightly. "Did Ben write another poem?"

"Around that, yeah," he mumbled, wanting to give the other man the chance to work through the shock. Bill couldn't imagine what it must be like to be on the other side of this. Waking up in agonizing pain with little to no memory of how you ended up there in the first place.

He sat quietly and let Eddie process, hoping that this revelation wouldn't cause more harm than had already been done.

"Nothing huge," the writer breathed, leaning back in his chair slightly, a little relieved that the other man was well enough to continue talking. It was already a lot to take in. "There was a flood after... The Kenduskeag washed through the town. Since then, there hasn't been anything -- Oh! Uh, Ben and Bev finally figured it out so... There's that."

[fearinfected]

Putting into words what their life could have been ached more Eddie could have planned, false memories in his mind of the four of them in their own little home: Richie passed out on the couch as he watched a movie, Stan doing his puzzles on the dining table, Bill attempting to write his magnum opus on a little wooden desk that probably had a wobbly leg. And Eddie... he'd have been happy just watching the other three thrive, grateful to be away from Derry and everything that came with it.

Except the others, obviously. Mike, Beverly and Ben would have been constant fixtures in the apartment, in and out of the door like they lived there themselves. If he listened closely, he could almost hear the laughter, the fights, the exhilaration and the boredom that came from finding freedom with the people you loved the most.

"You would not have eaten the dice," he shot back, a brow raised as he dared the other to contradict him. Maybe he was looking at the lost opportunity through rose-tinted glasses -- Maybe he would have died of a stress-induced heart attack two weeks after moving in. "And dude, I would have had a no fucking in the apartment rule. We couldn't have afforded the fancy ass housing, so the walls would have been paper thin. Nobody needs to be dealing with that shit."

The way Richie spoke about marriage conjured up images of what Eddie had hoped it would be like before he'd met Myra, the smile wiping from his face at the realisation. Is that what it was like for Beverly? For Bill? For Stan? Was he the only one who's domestic bliss made him feel like an animal trapped in a too-small cage?

The Kaspbrak union was one filled with chaste affection at best, explosive arguments at worst, and a lot of silence in between. He didn't even have the excuse that they'd started out any different -- It was almost like he'd sleepwalked through their dating period and woke up married one day.

"Yeah, well, that's not how it works out for everyone." Downing the rest of his glass, an audible thump on the table as it was set back down, Eddie could feel the weight of it on his shoulders, could still hear Myra's cries of anguish as he packed up and left for Derry. "How the hell aren't you married, man? Don't give me the 'too romantic' shit, most people would kill for that."

The reminder that they'd made plans to stick together, the core four ... the original losers sent an ache through his chest. What would that have been like? Some scratching in the back of his skull knows his life would have been drastically different. The longer he dwells on it, the more it hurts.

"Fuck... We were going to do that, weren't we? You would have told me not to eat leftovers after three days... or not to sleep on the couch in just my underwear after getting home drunk from the bar. Dude, I would have done game nights. Stan would've made us do a thousand piece puzzles about birds and yelled when I hid pieces. I would have made us play Yahtzee and then ate the dice when I was losing and watched you all panic about taking me to the hospital for being an idiot."

A bright cackle, thumb worrying over the peeled corner of the label. "I'd have stuck with schooling, and despite doing my best not to put y'all in boxes, I would have tried to help with your.... Quirks and oddities? Cleaning wipes and sanitizers... Wearing masks while shopping and cleaning all the groceries before putting them away. Inspecting Stanley's food and sharing it so he wouldn't worry about it making him sick. Care packages and check-ins... Asking if y'all ate."

Voice goes a little soft and wobbly. "I would have had most of you to keep me sober... Helped me stay tethered after my dad... The point is that our lives would be different. I'm not going to over-exaggerate how I make you guys feel, but you guys would have been stability... I would have had people to take care of, cook, and clean for... I would have been loved. You would have loved Sandy.... God, Stan would have had a no fucking in the apartment rule."

He can't bring himself to be hopeful that there's an after this where they're all friends again. In each other's lives. Showing up for visits out of the blue. Spare blankets and spare rooms having life in them instead of sitting unused gathering dust.

"I know... But Eds, I'm not even meaning to do it is the thing. I haven't been this happy since .... college? Feel free to beep-beep me if this is crossing a line, but the thing is... Marriage is supposed to be easy. It's about co-habiting a space together and fostering the love and friendship that's supposed to be there and having little rituals together."

He pours another glass, full this time. "If the foundations of trust respect and wanting to make your lives better together aren't there, then you have to ask yourself if you're with the right person, you know? If they don't bend over backward with romantic gestures to make your day easier ... If dishes aren't done without having to ask... If they don't kiss your neck while you cook or buy you your favorite food or drink because they know you like it while they're out... If they don't look at you and you can't physically see the adoration they have, then what's the point? If you aren't comfortable in silence or in long conversations or if your partner in crime fills your life with what they want only... maybe that's not happiness? You should feel loved.... Why's everyone staring at me?"

Downing his glass, he hisses softly and shakes his head. "Maybe I'm just too much... too romantic to be married. I mean, it's not like I put myself out there to find the one, but it's a nice thought, isn't it? Coming home to someone who smiles when they see you."

[fearinfected]

"Yeah, well, the guy's all bark and no bite so I wouldn't stress about it." Richie had been making wayward comments about Ben's transformation since the minute they'd reunited, way more forward than the rest of the group dared to be. And although Ben had shifted and squirmed at the attention, there was an underlying glow about him that stopped the shorter man from intervening.

Brushing off the thanks, Eddie finished up his handiwork and leaned back to admire the neatness of his dressing. "Don't go making this a habit or you're gonna end up septic. I've got a first aid kit but I'm not a miracle worker."

"That's probably true. . .Richie keeps looking at me like he wants to eat me alive." And, truth be told, Ben didn't mind it. For as much as he loved Beverly--and god knew he did--he couldn't deny that he'd always had fluttering feelings for the boys in their group, too.

Ben sighed and thought it over for a moment. "I don't know. . . six? Five? . . It's not too bad." He'd definitely felt worse, and had the scars to show for it. "Thanks for taking care of me, Eds."

[fearinfected]

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?" (From pennywise @fxntasmagoria )

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

Oh, he remembered all right. It was honestly impressive that he'd managed to forget for twenty-five years, if you didn't include the consistent nightmares that woke up him up in a cold sweat most nights, all memories of it gone except the impending sense of dread that followed him for the rest of the day.

It had always been IT. From the moment he'd first seen the leper outside of Neibolt, the stench of disease in the air, Eddie had never escaped IT's clutches, his fear a chew toy for the bastard to gnaw on like a rabid dog.

"Yeah thanks for the reminder, Party City." His words rolled out faster than his brain could stop them, every cell in his body screaming at him to run. "You know what else I remember? You smell like a wet fucking carpet."

[fearinfected]

boops nose

“Oh, that’s hilarious. Real cute. You know what else is cute? Me filing a restraining order.”

“Seriously though, you ever hear of boundaries? This isn’t, like, a petting zoo.”

[fearinfected]

(2019) it hid behind your teeth and you were too nervous to seek it out. you waited for the perfect moment until you couldn’t.

[fearinfected]

i miss being here

[fearinfected]

›       TENSION   LINER   PROMPTS     

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."

"What   are   you   doing   to   me?"

[fearinfected]

drew this one on a magma yesterday wahoo yay

[fearinfected]

" I don't start shit but I can tell you how it ends. "

The phrase was so undoubtedly Bev that Eddie couldn't help but grin despite the circumstance, remembering the little spitfire that had tagged along with them when they were kids and inserted herself so seamlessly into the group that he barely remembered a time before that summer.

"You don't start it, huh? That's funny, 'cause this feels a lot like an ambush from where I'm standing."

[fearinfected]

"I make you nervous? That's a first." Maybe the teasing in his voice would have landed better if he didn't wear the face of somebody getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to, alarm bells flashing in his eyes as he realised how easily he'd reached out for the other.

He would have pulled away as though burned if Richie hadn't held fast to his shirt, the words that washed over him still causing a surprised jolt, even knowing that the other had liked him back then. It was easier not to respond to those reminders, knowing that he'd probably say the wrong thing anyway.

"I'm always in your bubble," he reminded him, before wincing at the thumb that trailed across his injured cheek. It didn't hurt as much as it had, but the shiver that ran through him at the contact was enough for Eddie to flinch -- It was unfamiliar, that's all. "Better. The doctors said I can take the dressing off in a couple of days, so its probably gonna look real fucked up."

@fearinfected " your heart is beating so fast right now. "

He can feel the way his heart pounds, the way it had felt any time Eddie had been this close in their youth too. The way it visibly jumps in his neck, in his forearm, in his wrist. He can feel it in his temples, and hand over sternum it jumps there too. No one else in his entire decades without the other had ever made him feel this way. Electrified, and he's not even doing anything suggestive. A finger trailed over the jumping pulse in his neck shouldn't make him so .... exposed. "Yeah, well. Maybe quit being so close in my personal space and you wouldn't make me so nervous." He grabs the hem of his shirt, so Eddie doesn't pull back. "Not so much nervous , more .... alive? You've always made my heart race so.... Quit lookin' at my heartbeat in my neck. I know it's gross." He's trembling, doing his best to try to hide the way Eddie makes him feel. "Why are you in my bubble anyway?" He trails a thumb over the tape on Eddie's cheek. "How's your cheek?"

[fearinfected]

"Snacks?" His mom would kill him for sure if she caught them with any kind of sugar after dark, the thought of the disappointment in her stern blue eyes enough to make Eddie recoil. But maybe they could if they were careful about it. He could trust Bill to be careful.

If it were Richie or Stan that had made the suggestion, he'd be ripping into them by now, but with Bill it was different. "I guess so, yeah. But we have to be super quiet and we can't leave any, like, crumbs or anything."

Bill nodded, smile soft, pleased that he had made the right choice. He knew that Eddie didn't enjoy horror movies the same way he did, and he hoped that maybe tonight things would be the same as before. Before Georgie went missing and before IT. He owed Eddie that much.

"Yuh-you're right! W-we should actually try to g-get through it this tuh-time," Bill agreed with a grin. Leave it to Eddie to pick something that would still involve an aspect of horror -- tame as it was -- for him. He really couldn't ask for a better best friend. Probably didn't deserve him, in fact.

"Do you th-think we should try t-to sneak in sn-snacks?"

[fearinfected]

There was something not quite right about the way Cardan was looking at him, as though Eddie were a stranger - no, not a stranger. Someone he never thought he'd see again, as though the brunette had risen from the dead. Which he supposed he had to some degree, barely able to comprehend that he'd managed to survive an attack like that.

When had that even happened? It seemed like he'd been stuck in a permanent purgatory for years, unable to see or speak as his skin itched with moss, his thoughts scrambled as the sentience between man and tree tried to find some sort of understanding that never came.

Opening his eyes had felt like finally waking up from a nightmare, blinking against the harsh light. It wasn't until he felt Cardan's fingers tracing lightly on his chest that he looked down at himself, jolting at the image he was met with. That wasn't his body. It was too smooth, too perfect even with the circular scar, skinny in the way that he'd been before age made it impossible to upkeep.

His own hand reached up to feel the roughness of his scar, confusion crossing his expression as he examined each digit.

"Why-" Head lifted to meet Cardan's gaze, eyes wide and worried as the High King rose to his feet, Eddie soon following as he grasped onto the other's hand. Stumbling slightly as he stood on two feet once more, he couldn't help but squeeze the hand he held, grounding himself. "Why do I look like that?"

                      The  High  King  remains  to  stare  at  the  brunette  whose  head  is  currently  laying  atop  his  lap  impassively,  as  though  expecting  something  that  he  might  say  to  answer  the  growing  questions  that  swarm  around  the  walls  of  his  mind  as  though  a  herd  of  angry  sprites  ;  questions  that,  not  are  not  met  with  any  kind  of  answer,  but  rather  multiply,  growing  thrice  in  numbers  in  those  swift,  handful  of  seconds  that  Eddie  has  opened  his  eyes.  And  in  a  way,  he  has  received  at  least  one  answer  to  the  growing  sea  of  inquiries,  should  the  mere  sight  of  the  mortal  ―  or,  to  better  phrase  it,  former  mortal  ―  with  pointed  ears,  pointed  fangs,  and  a  much  younger  appearance  might  not  have  been  an  indication  already.

                      The  collision  ought  not  to  have  hurt  as  much  as  it  does  as  of  this  moment,  when  a  mortal  strikes  one  of  the  Folk.  Surely,  the  impact  can  be  felt  as  it  has  done  a  plethora  of  other  times  prior  to  their  separation,  when  Eddie  would  shove  him  or  otherwise  deliberately  jeer  him,  but  never  has  it  left  a  dull  ache  behind,  as  though  he  has  hit  not  the  soft  flesh  of  a  weaker  being,  but  the  bark  of  a  centuries-old  tree  instead.  Mortal  bodies  do  not  hold  such  strength  in  of  themselves  ;  Then  again,  mortal  bodies  do  not  tend  to  rise  from  a  coffin  of  a  tree,  nor  have  the  appearance  of  Fae.

                      Gracious  Mab,  what  has  he  done  ?

                      Perplexion  gives  way  to  a  sense  of  relief,  upon  hearing  that,  at  the  very  least,  Eddie  does  not  feel  weakened  and,  consequently,  carry  on  to  bleed  out  as  he  did  prior  to  being  engulfed  by  the  moss  and  bark.  A  curt  nod  is  offered  in  understanding  as  slender,  beringed  digits  push  away  the  shreds  of  the  shirt  that  linger  on  his  person,  similar  to  dirt-covered  rags,  to  instead  examine  the  spot  where  the  previously  massive  wound  was.  The  pillows  of  his  sharp-nailed  digits  trace  the  tender  skin  beneath,  and  yet,  he  finds  no  injury,  but  the  somewhat  roughened  patch  of  scarred  skin  in  the  shape  of  the  circular  wound,  alas,  one  that  been  healed  with  layers  upon  layers  of  pale  and  glimmering  under  the  shaded  light  of  the  tree  skin  ;  as  though  the  wound  was  never  there  to  begin  with.

                      ❛  I  did  not  mea  ―  ❜  Cardan  begins,  alas,  the  words  die  abruptly  before  they  even  get  the  opportunity  to  roll  off  his  tongue.  His  throat  closes  in  on  itself,  preventing  further  untruth  from  crossing  his  lips,  for  speaking  that  he  did  not  mean  to  put  the  brunette  through  what  he  assumed  must  have  been  an  aching  hell  is  anything  but  true.  He  recalls  the  sensation  he  felt  in  those  dire  moments  of  seeing  former  mortal  die  before  his  eyes  ;  the  sense  of  dread,  and  the  stark,  raw  realisation  ―  the  desire,  the  urge  ―  that  he  could  change  that.  That  he  must  change  that.  It  was  as  avoidable  as  keeping  one's  hand  still  from  scratching  an  itch.  And  then,  upon  tapping  into  a  power  he  did  not  know  he  had  ―  a  power  he  is  unsure  he  still  has  ―  the  flooding  relief  that  washed  over  him,  as  though  a  wave  licking  the  shore,  the  excileration,  and  then,  a  gilded  gold  that  sprawled  through  his  grasp  and  became  vines,  and  moss  and  bark.

                      Whatever  it  was,  it  saved  Eddie,  and  Cardan  cannot  bring  himself  to  apologise  for  something  he  does  not  mean.  Rather,  he  holds  out  a  manicured  hand  for  the  other  to  grasp  in  order  to  aid  him  to  his  feet,  with  a  growing,  sly  grin  curling  upon  his  lips.  ❛  You  look  fantastic  for  a  tree.  ❜

[fearinfected]

He'd been sat long enough, shifting uncomfortably in the plush seat as his face was inspected and prodded, brushed and painted. He hadn't felt this scrutinised since his wedding day, and even then the onus had been on his clothes and hair rather than his face. He felt bare, dark eyes watching Cardan carefully as he spoke, wondering what kind of fucked up night they were in for.

After all, this queen that Cardan spoke of sounded like a real piece of work -- When Eddie had agreed to attend a party alongside the High King, he imagined it to be more along the route of the revels he'd gone to before. Now he was beginning to regret his choices, expression pulled into one of doubt.

"Please tell me 'eat you whole' is a weird faerie expression and she's not actually gonna cannibalise someone at this party," he practically begged, all exit routes now officially closed. He couldn't pretend to be sick -- No, that was a luxury he'd left behind with his old life. "Shit, Cardan. I didn't think I'd be fighting for my life when I said I'd come."

As Cardan stepped back, the warmth of his closeness retreating with him, Eddie automatically rose from the chair and stretched out dramatically, as though he'd been stuck in that position for days rather than a mere hour.

"I've been to a tailor before," he shot back, brows knotted. Back in his old life, he was always getting fitted for new suits -- It had become a regular event. "I think I can handle it."

                      ❛  You  ought  to  dress  up  for  we  are  attending  Queen  Annet's  Court,  and  she  is  exceedingly  stringent  when  it  comes  to  the  attendance  of  her  courtiers.  Even  more  so,  her  guests,  ❜  Softly  mutters  Cardan  in  response,  his  words  drawling  whilst  focused  on  his  art  and  his  voice  laced  with  patience,  regardless  of  whether  this  is  the  fourth  time  he  has  had  to  answer  such  an  inquiry.  Black  eyes  rimmed  in  gold  avert  briefly  from  the  dark  lines  he  traces  across  Eddie's  cheek  to  his  chocolate  hues  to  study  them,  merely  to  slightly  widen  and  dart  away  back  to  his  drawing  upon  facing  the  sharpened  and  impatient  glare  of  his.  ❛  This  is  not  the  High  Court  of  Elfhame,  but  one  of  the  Lower,  Unseelie  Courts.  Here,  regardless  of  where  you  are  from,  all  it  takes  is  one  misstep,  one  wrong  move  or,  perhaps,  even  a  wrong  breath,  and  the  Folk  shall  not  hesitate  to  eat  you  whole,  should  you  be  of  royalty,  even.  ❜  And  Queen  Annet  has  barely  let  loose  on  such  matter,  even  now  that  rumour  has  it  she  has  become  softer  after  the  birth  of  her  sole  heir.

                      Even  his  own  make-up  has  been  altered  from  his  usual  golden  cheeks  and  iridiscent  colours  of  eyeshadow,  for  now,  it  is  all  done  in  various  shades  of  black  ;  the  outline  of  his  eyes  with  kohl  has  been  drawn  into  a  sharp  cat-eye,  his  eyelids  painted  with  a  fading,  black  powder  and  his  cheeks  are  adorned  with  tiny,  glimmering  black  diamonds,  sat  atop  his  equally  as  dark  liquid  glitter.  It  is  not  his  usual  style,  yet,  even  as  High  King,  he  ought  to  uphold  the  customs  of  hospitality  set  by  Queen  Annet  ―  and,  even  the  former  mortal,  who  would  turn  his  nose  and  head  away  from  the  slightest  mention  of  make  up,  has  now  the  simplest  of  work  done  ;  kohl  around  his  eyes,  black,  glimmering  trinkets  set  across  his  forehead  to  resemble  a  circlet  and  the  faintest  touches  of  glimmering  cheeks,  similar  to  the  one  Cardan  wears.

                      Manicured  brows  furrow  once  he  spots  an  imperfection  ―  a  glimmering  spot  that  has  been  cast  far  too  much  downward,  and  thus,  not  willing  to  risk  their  position  in  the  Court,  the  Fae  brings  the  pillow  of  his  finger  to  gently  brush  it  away  ;  a  soft,  caressing  movement  across  the  sharpness  of  Eddie's  cheek,  that  sends  shivers  all  the  way  down  to  his  tail  from  merely  contacting  his  skin.  His  gaze  lingers  upon  the  tender  flesh  as  though  mesmerised,  only  to  be  pulled  out  of  his  trance  upon  hearing  the  other's  impatient  complaint.

                      ❛  Yes,  I  believe  we  are  all  done,  ❜  Nods  Cardan  with  a  long,  suffering  sigh  and  steps  back,  as  though  to  put  further  distance  between  the  pair.  Setting  the  piece  of  kohl  back  upon  the  vanity  of  black  marble,  he  reaches  to  fix  the  position  of  the  circlet  above  his  brow  and  gestures  for  the  former  mortal  to  rise.  ❛  Now,  we  merely  have  to  attend  the  royal  tailor  for  suitable  attire.  Although  I  understand  such  might  be  a  tad  .  .  .  triggering,  for  you.  ❜

[fearinfected]

It really was him. By some divine intervention or some sort of twisted joke, Eddie was hearing Cardan's voice on the line as though he hadn't believed him dead for the past month. Should he have felt relieved? All he felt was confused -- Cold and shaky, nausea rising in his throat as he wondered if Richie knew. Fuck, he needed to tell Richie.

"Where the fuck is that?" With my brother. For a moment, he felt his heart stop. "With Richie? In Nevada?"

No, he couldn't be. The Toziers had up and left a couple of weeks ago, had filled the moving truck to the brim and let another family move into the house that Eddie had considered his second home. There was probably a kid making Lego in Richie's old room, another kid looking out of Cardan's window.

And as much as Cardan intimidated Eddie, even after all these years, he wanted to rip the view from this stranger's vision and give it straight back to the other boy.

Then he asked where his parents were and Eddie felt like he was about to pass out, clutching the phone to his ear with both hands. "They're- They moved. A couple weeks ago." The wound was still fresh, brows furrowed as he bit back the shaking that threatened to weave its way through his tone. "I haven't heard from them. Rich said he'd write with the new address, but... nothing."

Time was running out. "Cardan, you gotta tell me how to get there. Maybe we can, I don't know- we'll come get you."

                     Never  in  the  nearing  two  decades  of  living  would  Cardan  have  ever  thought  that  hearing  one  of  his  brother's  friend's  voice  would  be  soothing  ―  especially  not  when  he  can  nearly  hear  the  hysteria  in  the  hue  of  his  voice,  despite  the  white,  garbled  noise  of  the  horrid  signal.  Then  again,  he  never  would  have  thought  that  after  the  passage  of  all  these  years  he  would  be  able  to  recall  the  series  of  numbers  he  would  once  press  to  call  Eddie's  house  when  Richie  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  on  a  night  of  strict  curfew.  Alas,  all  sense  of  tranquility  vanishes  upon  the  inquiries  thrown  his  way  ―  upon  the  vanishing  of  the  momentary  nostalgia,  and  the  dawn  of  his,  quite  horrid,  reality.

                     And  the  realisation  that  the  phone  he  acquired  from  a  recently  glamoured  mortal  is  nearing  fifteen  percent  battery  drainage,  and  it  will  soon  shut  down,  taking  down  the  semblance  of  communication  the  Prince  has  managed  to  establish  with  the  outside,  human  world  for  the  first  time  in  five  years  with  it.

                     ❛  Were  this  to  be  a  joke,  Edward,  you  would  be  laughing,  ❜  Comes  the  hurried  response  as  Cardan  rummages  through  the  mortal's  schoolbag,  pushing  past  notebooks,  snacks,  and  a  particularly  dirty  set  of  clothes  in  his  search  for  a  charger.  Even  in  the  unlikely  scenario  that  a  charger  is  present,  where  to  place  the  phone  for  it  to  charge,  he  does  not  know  ―  alas,  he  comes  up  short  of  any  charger,  and  thus,  he  quietly  curses  under  his  breath,  pursing  plump  lips  into  a  frown  of  frustration.  ❛  Elfhame,  ❜  He  answers  curtly.  ❛  With  my  brother.  I  live  in  his  estate.  ❜

                     The  Fae  eyes  the  bag  of  chips  for  a  long  moment  prior  to  grabbing  hold  of  it,  opening  it,  and  then  swallowing  down  a  handful  of  chips,  savoring  their  taste.  Mab,  he  has  not  had  these  in  so  long,  even  the  plastic,  thin  fries  feel  devine.  ❛  Where  are  ―  ❜  Mom  and  dad,  Cardan  means  to  convey,  before  he  is  swiftly  reminded  of  Balekin's  cruel  punishments  when  his  former,  mortal  family  was  ever  mentioned  ―  and,  that  even  in  the  basement  cells  of  Hollow  Hall,  even  the  walls  have  ears  and  eyes.  ❛  Where  are  Maggie  and  Wentworth  ?  They  did  not  answer  the  landline.  ❜

[fearinfected]

It was insane to think that the man before him was still the same Ben that they all knew and loved as a kid and yet, aside from the drastic change in appearance, he really hadn't changed a bit. None of them had. It was a soothing thought and a sad one all at once.

Scoffing at his tail-end comment, the shorter man held up his right hand, ignoring the smears of blood against his skin. "I'm a married man, dude. Richie's the one you gotta worry about." Pause. "All right, how's the pain? Scale of one to ten?"

Ben's responding laugh immediately turned into a wince, but he didn't complain. "Short version? Got tired of being the bullied fat kid, and asshole gym teachers who didn't do anything about it, so I joined the track team outta spite, lost a bunch of weight. . . Kinda just kept up with it. Hence the. . . 3% body fat? I honestly haven't checked in a while."

Partly because he wasn't a college jock anymore, but mainly because that sort of thing was the beginning of a very short road back to very unhealthy habits. But Eddie didn't need to know about that.

"But if you and Richie keep sayin' stuff like that to me, I'm gonna start thinkin' you have a crush on me," he teased.