#Ignore that her hair thing changed from a scrunchie to beads

[decomposing-roses]

Basically what if Cassie figured out the mimic wasnt Gregory reeally early on but still freed them for some reason

Inspired by this post :]

[hood-ex]

Steph comforting Dick about Spyral and the mess that got him into it and how he was recieved afterwards? I just like Dick and Steph supporting each other and being close, even if they've interacted like twice in canon.

Dick’s chugging a pre-workout bottle of water when he hears the sound of Steph’s curses echoing throughout the cave. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs and scans the area, noting that all the main overhead lights are off except for the ones over the gym. There’s not much he can see in the dark from his current position other than the shaking barbell that’s extended over Steph’s head. 

He has no idea why Steph’s working out in the cave—on the bench press without a spotter at that—when she could be working out at her Firewall base instead. Unless Firewall doesn’t have a gym... and, well, huh. Now that Dick’s thinking about it, he doesn’t think he’s actually ever been to Firewall. It’s always been more of Steph and Babs’s thing, and Dick never had the time to go see it when he was Batman.

That should probably change, he thinks as he jogs over to the gym equipment after hearing Steph’s frantic, “Okay, Steph. Bad idea! Baaad idea!” 

When he’s closer, he can see that Steph’s face is all twisted up in discomfort and sweat is beading on her forehead. Her arms are quivering from the strain of holding all the weights up, and the barbell is teetering precariously from side to side. 

“Here,” Dick says, dropping his water on the ground and coming up behind her. He quickly reaches out and supports the weights for her. “Let me help you.”

“God, please do,” Steph grunts just before she relinquishes her hold on the bar. Dick listens to her breathe harshly through her nose while he places the weights back on the holder. “Mama, I made it!” Steph wheezes, quite literally rolling off the bench press and onto the floor. 

Dick rolls his eyes at the dramatics and offers her his hand. She makes a face at it as if Dick is the gross, sweaty one and not her. Dick shakes his hand at her impatiently. 

“Say,” Steph says as she finally clasps his hand and lets him pull her up, “how come you’re here anyway? You filling in for the B-man or something?”

“No.” Dick’s lips twist at the very thought of having to play Batman after everything that’s been going on recently. “Just wanted to spend some time with Damian while Selina’s with Bruce in Chicago. ”

“Where’s everybody else then?” Steph asks while looking around the cave as if she expects Jason or someone to pop out from the darkness at any moment. “I mean, y’know,” she continues after seeing Dick’s quirked brow, “don’t you guys usually come to the manor more when B is gone so you can spend some time with Alfred?”

“Sometimes,” he says, observing the way she keeps glancing over at the bo staff on the weapons wall. “Why? You hoping to run into Cass or Tim?” 

She rocks back and forth on her heels with her hands crossed over her chest and drawls out, “Maaaybe.”

"Thought so,” he says as he heads over to the open space on the mats to warm up his muscles. Steph quietly trails behind him and plops down on the edge of the mats to watch him. “Cass might show up for lunch if you’re lucky. If you’re looking for Tim, you’ll probably have to wait until I leave the house before he shows up.”

“Why’s that?” Steph asks in a voice that’s all muffled because of the purple scrunchie she’s holding between her teeth. Her blonde hair is a little wild and frizzy from her workout, and she uses her hands to comb all the loose strands back into a ponytail. 

Dick doesn’t really want to answer her. He’s thinking about ignoring her until she gets the hint that it’s not something he wants to talk about, but then she looks at him with wide eyes and says, “Oooh, right. The whole... fake death thing.”  

The way she says it like it’s something trivial that can just be waved away with the flick of a hand has Dick gritting his teeth and crossing his arms over his chest, because to him it’s not the small thing everyone around him likes to pretend it is. 

It’s just a reminder of the fact that no one cares that he was tortured. No one cares that he was de-masked in front of the whole world. No one cares that Lex Luthor killed him. No one cares that Bruce beat him down and made him go undercover even when he tried to fight against it. 

No one cares, and Dick’s sick and tired of pretending like it doesn’t bother him.

Words—cruel ones that he’ll probably regret later—bubble up on his tongue. He’s not really sure what’s going to come out of his mouth, he just knows that he’s fucking sick of people making light of something that’s traumatized him more than they’ll ever realize. 

He’s a second away from saying something not so nice when Steph suddenly spits out her scrunchie and says, “They all need to get over that. Dr. Thompkins faked my death and hardly anyone gave me shit for it except for Tim. But you? Well...” she motions to the yellow bruises that are starting to fade on Dick’s face. The same bruises caused by Jason’s fist. “You got that and then some.”

Record scratch. 

Dick freezes and blinks at her stupidly, the anger in his chest slowly morphing into confusion. How did she...

“We’ve got similar scars now by the way,” she says, looking upwards and pointing to the lines of discolored skin on her exposed neck. 

Dick absentmindedly rubs at the white scars around his own neck that were caused by the barbed wire lasso choking him. He doesn’t know what cut into Steph to give her marks like those, he just knows Black Mask is the one who gave them to her.

Steph wraps her arms around her legs and settles her chin on top of her knees like she's a little kid waiting for Dick to tell her a story. “You didn’t used to have those,” she remarks with a curious tilt of her head. “You get ‘em while working for Spyral?”  

The question throws Dick for a loop because he doesn’t know why Steph wants to know about it or why she’s even been paying attention to his scars in the first place. It makes him feel uncomfortable because this is territory he doesn’t really want to get into, especially with someone like Steph who he doesn’t know all that well. 

He surprises himself when he nervously licks his lips once, twice, and then quietly admits, “Before.” And Steph just nods with a look of “fair enough” as if that’s all the information she needs to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That sucks,” she says, and something warm settles in Dick’s chest when he hears the sympathy in her voice. “They look pretty badass though! Kinda like you got gnawed on by a shark... and oh my god! That should be your cover story for how you got them!”

Dick scrunches up his nose. “That’s a terrible cover story. Nobody would believe that.”

“They would if they thought you got in a brawl with one!”

“Right, yeah, because that would happen.”

“I have two words for you, DG. King. Shark.”

The corner of Dick’s mouth curls upwards. “DG?”

“Yup,” Steph smiles. She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on her elbows to prop herself up. “You’re not Robin, Nightwing, Agent 37, or Batman anymore. No my friend, you are the one and only Donald Glover! DG for short.”

Dick’s eyes crinkle as he throws his head back and laughs at the unexpected twist, the last of his anger finally slipping away and being replaced with a lightness that makes his skin buzz. 

When he looks back at Steph, he realizes that she’s grinning like a maniac and that her eyes are all lit up like she’s proud of herself for making him laugh.

Dick shakes his head back and forth fondly and grins back.  

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 015

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: I was excited to post this one! Billy continues to learn secrets about Evie as they grow closer. The first day back to school arrives with new challenges. TW: talk of teacher/student relationship, vomiting, pica, bullying, and some Well Earned Smut. ​ *Thanks all and chat with me about the fic if you have time!

Chapter 15: Fires Within Fires

   Billy decided he liked unwrapping these layers to Evie, despite the fucking interruptions.

   Their little game of back and forth where even grazing her skin with his fingertips felt like a prize.

   Where a glimpse of her smile's ghost sent luna moths fluttering inside the glass jar that he'd long-sealed his beating heart away into.

   He certainly couldn't tell her she'd consumed him. Syllables became harder around Evie. No amount of cooing at his mirror would save him from those painted eyes. Brushstrokes that destroyed him utterly.

   And all he could think was brush me again.

   The greatest mystery presented itself that Saturday night. 

   Mona stayed out with friends and went home with something a little more chiseled. Which meant she’d be out and go straight to the salon to play with the books. Blue was fed. The stars were bright and silent. Placed just so.

   Evie applied a red lip, bent over the vanity before it reached eleven on the dot. With her mother out, she used the front door after grasping her coat. Green bomber covered in patches. Crept over the frozen grass and pavement toward a hippy sort of van. Tan with a maroon stripe. 

   Billy crawled out his window at the sight of her along the way. Dressed. Head down as he hid near his car.

   He had to know. 

   The van was already driving off so Billy waited a bit to follow behind it. Hoped the few cars on the road would mask him if he stayed far enough away.

   He trailed after the damn thing all the way to the city. Saw it still in an alleyway and swerved to find parking elsewhere. Waited a few minutes with his eyes on the rearview mirror to see lights flicker.

   Beyond the cold buildings, a cozy nightclub illuminated. Covered in trellises with twisted metalwork roses and thorny vines. Slicked in frost. A red, ornate canopy and steel black gate lining the outside area with empty tables.

   Music vibrated within. Billy lit up a cigarette and watched the door. Eyed a bouncer chatting it up with a group outside in the cold. Smoking and shooting the shit. He readied to make his move.

   The sign read Sugar Kane’s in swirling lights. 

   Boots carefully stepped around the alley. Eyes trained on the bouncer at the end of the street corner. A thrum of piano keys echoed. Billy slipped into the door, down an immediate tunnel of high steps into another world made of pure red velvet.

   Wall to wall velour curtains and uniform lines of crystalline lights. Felt like Billy stepped into a dim, smoky dream. Busy round tables with idle chatter and even a bit of friendly gambling. A dance floor with plenty of couples. Sleek black bar and mirrors behind it.

   Taste and class and care went into this dream. 

   Billy fell into a table in the back, darkest corner. Watched the slow dancing. Heels clicked. More people drank and smoked at tables. Playing cards and speaking in hushed tones under the music.

   The music.

   As couples swayed and parted, Billy’s eyes lifted to the band. Bass, drums, and keyboard. And the singer looking like a chandelier painted red like the walls. Red like the blood boiling and pounding under his flesh.

   Slow and steady, a pure blue light bathed. Made her the center of the universe. Let her slip into a warm bubble bath birthed of the cosmos itself. Billy had to scan her again. Had to blink to make sure he was seeing this correctly.

   Sleek dress of beads like what a flapper would wear. Glossy red lips sultry into the mic. Huge lashes. Bigger curls.

   Evie.

   Her hips moved against the swell of sound. Breathing in and out with it. Stage lights framed her body. Kissed it. Made her glimmer as an ethereal creature. Not of this world.

   Billy’s jaw was on the table. 

   “This is a man's world,” she cooed, head shaking while brown eyes fluttered closed, “this is a man's world…”

   Billy’s fingers twisted into the tablecloth. Eyes trained as her voice picked up against the reverberations. Filled the air. Filled the empty spaces around Billy. He’d heard her sing, but this starlet wasn’t the delicate songbird she came off as. She owned the air. The space. The stars. The world at her feet.

   She owned everything. She wasn't sorry.

   “But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl.” Evie plucked up the mic to come forward. Smiling when hands dropped dollars into a bowl she shared with the band. Her voice grew. Boomed. Curled around throats and hearts.

   Enthralled.

   That stage was where she belonged and she wasn’t sorry about that either.

   Bathed in the echoing ruby glow from seas of crimson velvet and black silk around the room. Spotlight pulsing technicolor. Painting in blues and pinks and reds. Utterly decadent. Small chandeliers hung down to sparkle against cherry hardwood that met the vibration of a musical crescendo. 

   Evie’s dress flicked about as she moved. Tiny knit shadowy fishnets and strappy heels. Miniature white flowers woven into her free spun curls that truly made her look like an angel. A glowy star. The light caught a collared necklace she’d made with a cameo brooch and loose jewels.

   Again and again, Billy let himself be consumed. Bowed to her voice ever-growing. These untouchable notes that wrung around his soul. 

   “But it wouldn't be nothing!” Evie’s head tipped back. “Nothing!” Mic high with the greatest note that stilled the entire room as the music hushed so she could shine. Obscene and shameless and so bright. Eyes lifted from tables to see her there beckoning like the sirens of old. Evie came down to look out, settled the mic on its stand. Romanced it. “...without a woman or a girl…”

   Billy sat there and watched the set. Eyes all over Evie without her knowing. Blissfully unaware of the boy in shadows. He smoked a slow cigarette and no one from the bar bothered him. Not yet.

   Evie was five songs in before they switched it up. Let the band take on some peppier instrumental so Evie left to cross to the bar. Billy thought to flee before a huge hand touched his shoulder.

   “You look a little young to be in here. Not drinking. Where’s your ID, kid?”

   “Hey, I’m eighteen.” Billy sounded childish, snuffing a cigarette out on a clean ashtray. The bouncer glared down at him. Bodybuilder type and pretty. Tanned with styled slick hair and little strands tumbling into his brow. Blue eyes. One ear framed in silver piercings. “Just listening to the girl, she...she knows me.” 

   “Yeah, yeah, let’s go, stalker. She's working.” The bouncer cooly plucked Billy up like he was a doll. Catching the attention of the bar as they stumbled toward it.

   Evie reeled out of her conversation before Billy Hargrove was presented to her. One shoulder high into the air as a muscled hand held his arm.

   “Does this belong to you, Eve?” He began, giving Billy a jostle for good measure.

   “Oh, god.”

   Billy flashed his brightest smile. Begged to be claimed like a little, lost puppy. Poor Evie could only groan. Elbows on the sleek wood to hide her face. The woman she’d been speaking with behind the bar was already cackling. “Yes...he’s mine.”

   “Is this the boy you won’t shut up about?” Came a quip. Gravelly, feminine voice. 

   “Told you, I know her. Lemme go, Lurch.” Billy ripped himself clean from the bouncer. Fixed his jacket.

   “Marlon, baby, we got him from here.” The barkeep continued, bringing one acrylic nail to her plump lips. Dolled to the gods in a Marilyn Monroe type wig of platinum, buttercream waves that swooped to frame her face and touched her glowing shoulders. Sapphire cocktail dress cinched in and flowed to knee length. Matching heels that made her a head taller than Billy. 

   “Whatever you say, honeybunch.” Marlon gruffed and went back to go up the steps. Evie shoved at Billy and grabbed his jacket.

   “What are you doing here?” Her classic hiss.

   “I wanted to know where you snuck off to two nights a week. Just a concerned neighbor.”

   “Sometimes three when we have the stage open.” A hand adorned in a huge diamond ring extended. “Looks like James Dean and Jim Morrison had a blond baby boy. Little Eros crawled out of a Def Leppard video.”

   “Billy.” He shrugged out of Evie’s grip. Left her making that signature scrunchy face of anger she was known for. Arms crossed at him. Pride rose so he boasted. Took the bejeweled hand in both of his to kiss the knuckles smelling of jasmine. “Evie’s favorite subject.”

   “Are not.” The retort clipped.

   “Don’t tell lies, Evie dearest, they cause wrinkles.” A wink of huge false lashes followed. “Iris Lee Arden. I manage the place for the owners. Evie’s never brought us a pretty stray before.” She gave Billy’s chin an affectionate brush. Nails painted to silver claws. 

   Iris moved like a feline. A trans woman with brown skin and a full figure. Thirties. Commanding presence. Love of Marilyn Monroe with roots in the art of drag. Billy spotted a sign behind her about the specials. Chalked in different colors. A variety of musical stylings. Another sign about the shows nightly. Thursday being drag night.

   One of those open places he figured. Accepting of all colors and sexualities. Safe haven to outcasts. California had them too. Seemed more of a rarity in this area. Double the bouncers of the places back home.

   “Evie’s telling people about me, huh?” Billy leaned into the bar to play the flirt. Evie’s hand covered his mouth.

   “Ignore him. He should not be here. I’m sorry.”

   “Says you who lied about your age for the job, sugar.” Iris teased, eyes flicking to Billy. “We found out like the day after. Obviously.”

   “I was in it for the free booze.” Evie beamed a smile, hand snatching from Billy when he licked her finger. “Gross.” The pink tongue caught between his teeth before he grinned.

   “Uh. Nice try. I don’t even drink the alcohol for free, girl. And the only thing we ever give you free is a Shirley Temple.” Iris laughed again. “I’ll get two going while you lovebirds work things out.”

   “We’re not, ugh…” Evie rolled her eyes and decided to sit. Huffed for effect. “So, you got me.”

   “I always do." His dangling earring caught the light. "Not a bad place. You ever sing on Thursday?”

   “No, but I did host a couple of shows for Iris. The girls love me and I love them. They taught me plenty. Helped me. And I...learned a lot about myself too.” Evie kicked a stool out so he’d join her. Paused to see his expression. Her lips quivered. "Would it bother you if I think about girls and boys the same?"

   "Did it bother you when I flirted with that Jesse guy right in front of you? More in common, Angel. It's adding up." Billy held her eyes steady when he said that. They shared this softer beat. Simple and clean. Plenty of room to breathe. He shifted, lashes batting. "So, this place. Start from the top."

   “I was sixteen and I saw flyers so...I sorta lied about my age. No one knows. Not Heather, not even Fredrick. They found out I lied quickly. But, they liked me so we worked out some rules and I just sing a few nights with the band. Couple songs. Great guys, too. The Starlighters. They’re here almost 24/7. Marvin on bass, he drives so they pick me up on the way most days. I have to hide in back, I don’t want to get them in trouble. Cops will treat them differently cause they're not white. Always been that way.”

   Billy noticed most of the people in here, including the workers and band, were people of color easily. Many mixed like Evie.

   Opposite of Hawkins. She and Tommy H were practically the only mixed kids in their classes since his birth mother was Hispanic. Strange thing neither of them addressed in the open.

   “The club runs all sorts of music. Jazz, rock, classics, and some pop. I like the more rock and pop nights cause I can bring my guitar. Sometimes I help back up visiting bands. This place just appreciates it all. I love it here and I can sing anything they need, it's like a second home. Accepting. Good for people who get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.” She shrugged and two bubbly glasses were set down. “Thank you, Iris.”

   “Owners have more musicians coming in toward spring so hours for you will be slim. Summer should be better, they might have some more day and evening gigs.” Iris perked a smile.

   “I get it. Easier to work during the day when I turn eighteen.” Evie sipped. "The best birthday present of all is more of that stage."

   “It's happy to have you, sugar. So, tell me, Billy, have you locked this girl down?” Iris plucked up a clipboard to make some inventory notes, elbow on the bar. 

   “Hey!”

   “I’m working hard on it,” Billy winked and that was enough to silence Evie.

   “She also told me you’re the one who took care of the shithead who gave her that,” Iris tilted Evie’s face. "Boy is lucky I couldn't sink my talons into his eye sockets. Sick my guys and dolls on him." Billy barely caught the bruises under layers of color corrector and makeup. “Good boy.”

   “I do what I can.” He shrugged and played with the straw of his drink. Evie could have blamed her blush on stage lights. Instead, she stole a sip when Iris offered a fresh glass of water.

   “I’m gonna go sing.” She pushed Billy’s arm. “He’s a compulsive liar. Don't listen to him.”

   “Don’t worry, Eve, I’ll babysit the pretty boy. Make him feel right at home. It's what I do.” Another wink and Evie groaned all the way to the stage. Rejoined the band with a red smile. Sparkling. Garnered a few claps and nodded to pick up the next song. Beaming.

   She found Billy's eyes for one fleeting moment.

   "The French are glad to die for love..."

   “She’s gonna go far, that one." Iris caught his attention. "Just needs a chance is all. Someone bigger than me to give it.”

   Billy’s eyes were glued to the ruby supernova whirling and bursting before his gaze. Felt the vibrations inside his ribs. Again and again.

   “You take the stage too?”

   “Oh, yes. Never too late. Prefer to manage these days. Guide others starting out. Lots of queens and questioning tweens in the city in need of a place. I like to give them one. Outcasts who need to learn they're not alone in this big world. I've had plenty of success and now I have dreams of managing one great star.”

   “My dad would hate all this.” Billy piped up aimlessly, head shaking.

   “More of us than of him, if you believe it. Just have to speak up. Scream it out.” Iris cleaned a couple of empty glasses. “You’re pretty. You could do drag, you know?”

   “Thanks.” Billy broke to chuckle, eyes turned back at last.

   “Don’t hurt my girl either.” One long nail pointed. A talon that tapped Billy’s chin. “We’ll take you out back and smack you around a bit.”

   “Maybe I’m into that, lady.” Billy flirted back. His insufferable self. The pretense lowered. “Already hurt Evie. Trying not to do it again.”

   “You’re young. So is she. You both will fuck up, that's life. Sometimes people hurt more when they're comfortable. Just make it right.��� Iris had offered, arms back in the bar to sigh. 

   “Sometimes I don’t know how to do that,” Billy blinked his gorgeous eyes, “make it right, I mean.”

   “Watch. Listen. Learn.” She cooed softer. “It’ll do you good. Be a gentleman too, offer my girl a ride home when her set is over. Short night. I assume you’re staying?”

   “Yeah…” Breathless, he marveled. “Yeah, I’m staying if she is.”

   Evie had a few more songs before the mic was turned over. Something sinking every single time she had to see it go. They split tips and she parted ways for the night. Offered the shortest hours of all the workers being so young. Schooling first, Iris always said.

   Bundled in a jacket, Evie pushed through some beads and curtains to see Billy waiting. Head cocking toward the exit.

   “You stayed.”

   “Why wouldn’t I? Drove all the way here.” He lit up a smoke outside, having not had many during the set. Music lingered behind them. Echoed along the cool winds and wet pavement. “Free show and all the Shirley Temples I could suck up. I did tip, by the way. All the pretty people I could flirt with and brag about my girl to. What a night.”

   He slung a lazy arm around Evie’s shoulders. Not looking at her. His girl. Smoke flitting out his lips and Evie lost all her thoughts. Lost the nerve to tell him he was so beautiful. That she could be his. He shifted closer to her and peered at his watch, trapping Evie into his chest.

   “Damn, it's just after two.” 

   “Couple times I stayed till four.” She lamented. “Guess I should be happy they have room at all even if it’s once a week these days. Iris is good to me, I’m loyal… What did you guys talk about?”

   “How pretty the stars are at night.” He mused, snuffing his cigarette out onto a brick wall before he paced to the car waiting. Evie slid in wordlessly, sighed when Billy got the heat on before she buckled.

   She also noticed he did it too for the first time since riding with him. 

   “Usually I’m wired after shows but I’m dead tired tonight,” she rubbed her head to moan, leaning back.

   “You had a long week.” Was all Billy said, swerving down the street to the freeway.

   This heavy silence hung in the air. Billy intent on the road. Idle glances that never matched up. Finally, he peered over and saw Evie’s head lulled aside. Fast asleep.

   A smirk crept.

   He turned some easy music on. Let her rest all the way to Hawkins and parked at his house. Turned slowly and brought his knuckles up against the apple of Evie’s cheek. He felt her shift into his touch and reeled back. Evie seized up, groaned to see him.

   “We’re back.” He whispered. Not sure why.

   “Hm, sorry. Dozed off there.” Evie felt for the handle. Also felt Billy’s eyes on her skull. She froze and blinked to see him. “You want to come inside?”

   “Easier than sneaking into my place. Dad’s a heavy sleeper, but he has Billy Fuck-Up Radar.” He laughed and she didn’t, pushing out. Evie staggered in her heels, holding herself so Billy crossed around in silence. They went up into her house. 

   “Gonna...bathroom. Wash my face off ‘n change.” She had this sleepy adorable way about that, petting Blue idly. Already tugging little clips from her curls.

   Billy came to give the cat some attention. Heard the sink running and crossed back to Evie’s room. Tucked his boots and coat aside. Sprang at attention when she came in wearing a long tee and cradling a bundle of clothing. Curls free and messy. The slightest smear of black makeup still under her eyes but the rest of the paint came off leaving her fresh-faced and glowy. 

   “Need to use it?” She gestured behind her and stepped aside, depositing her laundry properly. Blue eyes lingered before he went off. Wordless.

   Evie let out the breath she’d been holding to sit on the bed. Back taut when Billy returned so she stood awkwardly. A quick movement that made him stop. Created a standoff. Eyes held steady. Expectant. She bit her lip and clicked the light out.

   Somehow that made him feel safer to cross. Careful steps like he was approaching a skittish nymph. Stood inches away. Evie let herself cave in.

   “Can I undress you?”

   The words blurted.

   Billy didn't hesitate.

   “All yours.” He watched her too pointedly so Evie looked aside. Reached to lift his shirt until he adjusted to get out of it. She got a look finally at the nasty red and purple welts on his shoulder. Healing yellow tinge. Clouds shifting.

   Visible from the moon and streetlamps outside flitting through the blinds. A hand hovered but didn’t touch and he just went rigid there. Let her look at him. Let her see every inch. The color splashed over his shoulder like spilled paint. 

   “Can I kiss you there?”

   “Only once.” He said so she swept over. Placed her lips on the flesh that was burning hot. Pecked too light and came out to see Billy’s eyes close. They opened and she reached for his belt. Clicked to get it off before unbuttoning his pants. Billy hitched to shudder when she brushed him, easing his pants down over white briefs. 

   Slowly, Evie brought a finger to her lips. Tapped once and Billy obeyed. Claimed them without ceremony. Pushed into her body until they tangled back in bed. Adjusting so he could hover.

   Aroused into a creamy thigh, Billy rocked easily between parting legs. Nestled there and heard her moan. Drowsy kisses as her hands slipped around his back. One arm braced by her head, fingers smoothed the curls aside. 

   “Can I look?” He uttered, hand inching under her shirt. Gazes locked. A pulsing beat.

   “Yeah.” Evie let her hands fall into the mattress. Billy pushed fabric up over her chubby stomach and naked breasts. Traced her flesh without shame and she felt it all melting away. Piles of insecurities shedding to drop like little weights hanging from her heart. Brown eyes lifted elsewhere. A quiet shiver followed.

   Her chest rose and fell. Evie tried to stay alert and locked into him, but the sensation returned that sunk her down.

   “Billy," she squeaked to still him, "I-I do want you.”

   That broad hand palmed her side. 

   “If you’re unsure, Angel, it’s a no.” He shrugged. “It’s okay. You’re tired. Doesn’t hurt my pride.” Eyes lingered on her face. Evie still felt so exposed there. Billy’s thumb rubbed a hot circle into her skin. He chuckled before pecking those waiting lips with ease.

   “We could...I still want to… Do things.” Evie shuddered, swallowing to find the words. “Warm-up. Start slow. Small.”

   “Little things you dream of me doing to you.” He leaned in again to taunt. Hips pushed into hers. “Wet your panties already.”

   “Please, you leaked all...over me…” Evie lost the exact jab while he kissed up her neck. Tongue and teeth. His hand inched. Ever so slightly. She touched his knuckles, guided him higher to cup her breast. Billy moaned at that alone. Twitched like he might burst and wasted no time getting his tongue on her nipples.

   “Taste better than I dreamt, that’s for damn sure.” He ran his nose over her sternum. Tormented her other breast. Let his teeth tug once. Twice.

   Suckles until she bucked into him. Head tossed back to moan. Fingers curled into spun gold. Coaxed him onward. Billy kissed her all over. Tummy and back up again. Shifting, he moved over to straddle one leg, nudged her thighs to stay parted.

   “Wanna spread you open,” lips ghosted, “touch you.” Brush you again and again.

   Evie had his arm in her grip. Felt like two irons clinging. Slowly, she nodded, eyes huge and darting over his there in the dim light. 

   “I want to feel good again, Billy.” She gulped dry air. “Want you to make me feel good.”

   He took in her expression. Pleading and vulnerable. Unafraid to want him in the open. Fingers rolled over her hard nipple and then slipped down under flimsy fabric he wished he could tear. Contained himself just barely at the feel of her. Soaked for him. Responsive to every little beat and sigh. Pride set fire to his marrow. Two fingers pushed up into the bud, coated in arousal to stroke it.

   "Like that?" He teased slow. Her mouth opened for his tongue in response.

   Evie grasped desperately at the pillow under her head. Legs opened so he got off to curl next to her. Braced his head up with one propped elbow and offered lazy rubs. Drew it out until her thighs hitched to part wide.

   “Hear that fucking sound you make?” Billy’s lips touched her ear. “Fuck.” He whimpered like she was the hottest thing on two legs. Made her feel coveted and sexy. Desirable. Slick sounds mingled with their breathing hurried. “I could listen to it all day and get off on that alone, you know. Musical girl. I could play you all night.”

   He kept kissing her, rendering Evie unable to articulate. Wanting him in little breathy sounds.

   Fucking wanting him.

   Evie twisted, hitching a gasp as her toes curled. Thighs parting wider because Billy was some sort of fucking wizard at this. This boy couldn't be real. Eliciting perfect notes out of her. One hand gripped the pillow under her head while the other clung to his bicep now. She felt the muscles bulge white-hot and loved it. Heard Billy breathing soft in her ear, lips trailing down her jawline and collar. 

   “You’re so wet.” Billy brought his fingers up to lick them. Pushed his tongue into her mouth after. “Taste so fucking good.” Evie yelped as he slapped her thigh playfully. The words slurred into her lips. He slipped his hand back into her panties, played rougher, and felt her tense. Evie’s lips opened into his to moan. Her legs bent up and spread for him. Bucking to meet his touch that was ending her. “Shameless, Evie, I like it.”

   “You talk too much.” She had gasped, eyes rolling to shut. Breast jutting so he kissed them next.

   “I don’t think people talk enough during the act.” Billy curled back into her. Supporting himself on one arm by her head. “Nothing like seeing a pretty girl’s face when I tell her she’s gonna come so hard for me.” She felt his shaft against her side, rubbing idly to make some friction. Leaking and wet. "So very hard."

   Billy liked to play dirty, it kept his emotions at a safe distance.

   Evie caved in. 

   “More… Faster, Billy.” She clung for him. Neck exposed. Pulsing. Lips parting obscenely. "More."

   A finger pushed inside with another following. 

   “Oh, fuck.” Evie worked into his touch. Brown eyes finding his intent ones. Billy thumbed her clit in tune. Pumped a few times. Watched her chest rise and fall in shaky breaths. The shirt still bunched over her tits. Lips fell to suckle one rosy nipple then the other.

   “Too much, Angel?” Billy slipped out to resume circling the bud. He hummed, slowing to inhale deep before he granted her another taste of his lips.

   “Don’t stop, I like it.” Evie whimpered into his mouth. Caught his bottom lip in her teeth playfully. 

   “Couldn’t tell.” Billy sped up again. “Wanna see you come for me.”

   “Billy.” Evie twisted at that. Thrusting herself into him. Breasts bouncing.

   Slick, filthy sounds filled the room. The damn streetlamps glimmered around the curtains. Gave her almost no place to hide from him. Something churned in her stomach. Alert. 

   “I’m close.” She strained at last. "I'm so..."

   “I know,” he grazed their lips to murmur, “just chase it. Don’t run, Angel. That’s it. Chase it for me.” He watched her expression flutter and cloud. Loved it. Worked her relentlessly.

   Nails dug into his skin. Out of breath and bucking until her body gave a little quake. A moan followed. Drawing out with her climax. Billy rubbed her until she fell to pieces. Crying out and shuddering. All for him. Back curved to echo sweet delights. He didn’t stop until she fell limp and quivering by the force. With Evie spent, he pushed up to reach into his briefs. Slicked his shaft in her arousal. Began to pump. 

   “Lemme see you.” She slurred, turning over to tug his underwear down. God, he was beautiful. Lines cut down his hips. Trimmed gold curls. She bit her lip again and wasn’t coy for once.

   “You mind?” A suggestive eyebrow rose.

   "If I can help." She pushed up more with heavily hooded eyes. Drunken. Messy kisses trailed his abs before she licked his tip.

   “You just go for it, huh?” Billy added. Allowed her to swallow him down. “Fuck, that mouth you have, Evie.” He bucked into her throat. Tried to apologize when she made a sound that was utterly pornographic. Heavy cologne wafted up her nose. A trail of spit ran from flesh to lips as she came out. Lapping again. Sinking down so he could pump. She gripped his hips and worshipped him. "You don't...You don't have to..."

   "I like it when you feel good. You're so beautiful." Evie dipped out. Let Billy tilt her head up by the hair. Thumb slicking her swollen mouth. Billy curved to dip his tongue in. Groaned when she kept stroking. "Feels good to give pleasure. We have that in common, Billy."

   His spine arched. Muscles taut because her lips were on him again.

   "You look like a star, you know that?" Billy had to peer away. Sighing soft. Shuddering. She didn't lie about being skilled at this. Evie placed little kisses up and down. Slowed. He didn't have time to continue the praise.

   “Where do you want to cum?” She resumed stroking him. Kissed shapes around his hips sweetly. Billy tried to articulate and gasped as her teeth nipped along his skin.

   “You’re asking me? Shit...You won’t like it.” He tried to not blow it all on her face. Felt like that might be rude. Billy shuddered again. “On your tits.”

   “Hm.” Evie reclined back, let him scoot in and helped him stroke himself. Being dirty also assisted in keeping her emotions and insecurity at bay. She worked him with her slick hand. Felt him starting to lock.

   “Listen, I’m not gonna last much...longer.” He was thrusting into their palms. Leaned over her to grasp the pillows so she could finish him herself.

   “It’s okay. Just let go, Billy. It'll feel so good when you do.” Tease.

   “Fuck, Evie, fuck.” Billy looked exquisite. Vulnerable. Eyes glittering with pleasure. Whining. Lips opened to groan. She worked him until release gushed. Milky spurts right across her chest. Billy swallowed for some air, looked down at her. Messy and fucked out. Shirt bunched up with his filth all over her skin. Puffed. 

   “Don’t get mad, but I thought about that the first time I saw you.” He twisted one nipple, heard her hitch to sigh. Evie fell back with a huff.

   “Yeah, you made that obvious.” She felt Billy sweep up some release with two fingers and offer it to her lips. Sucked him clean, peering through thick lashes. Evie laced their fingers and let a slow smile pull. “I enjoy you, Billy.”

   “Yeah?” He fell next to her. Nestled in so their curls mixed. “Only took you a couple of months and an orgasm to admit it.”

   “Shut it… I want you. Not trying to countdown to it like it’s some rocketship.” She pushed over him and felt under the bed for a dirty shirt to wipe off with. “That’s all I’m saying. Foreplay is one thing. Sex always changes people. Maybe I'm...freaked about that.”

   “I enjoy you, too.” He admitted to the dark. Eyes lifting to the ceiling before she tucked herself back in between him and the wall. “We could get a motel room sometime. Make sure no one walks in for once. We'll be wide awake and go a few rounds. And I won't change on you.”

   “Hmm.” She turned to muffle into his chest. Drowsy as can be. “Sure.”

   “Really?” Didn’t expect a quick reply. “Not gonna take it back when the glow wears off?”

   “Maybe.” Evie teased, grinning into Billy’s skin. “You make me mad sometimes. Still want to go slow like this.” He chuckled with little air, chest steady until he adjusted so she could cuddle into him. Evie traced a heart into his flesh. Caught herself. “Can I have a ride Monday? I think Steve will understand… I’m just freaked out about going in.”

   A hand pushed her hair aside so they could look at each other. Billy played with lush curls. Got serious.

   “He's not gonna be there.”

   “I know.” Evie hummed with her eyes closing. Fingers in her hair lulled her further. “Sometimes I think I see him standing in dark corners. Even when I’m on stage. There’s this glimmer of him everywhere. Especially as I close my eyes.”

   Billy didn’t know what to say so he kissed her until she was breathless and distracted. They shifted around so Evie faced the wall, pulling his arm over. Thrilled him to pieces. Billy framed her body with his, lips melting into dark curls. Sweet blessings placed upon her crown. A protective barrier he hoped soothed her.

   He really hoped.

   The blankets pulled up so they twisted together. No more syllables followed until the morning birds began to sing.

** ** **

   Monday crept to swallow Evangeline whole.

   She donned a vintage plaid dress that was cinched with a belt and short. Threw her bomber over it and fashionable black tights. Knew she was dressing for Fredrick even still. Her little outfits pieced together so he could imagine taking them apart in class. Earrings caught the light as she swung her bag on and crept outside into the morning windchill. Didn’t want to keep Billy and Max waiting. 

   Just in time, they stalked out of the Hargrove house. This knowing smile crossed Max’s face when she saw Evie.

   “So, you’re hanging out with Billy again.” Came the monotone observation.

   “Back seat.” He snapped at her. Evie’s lip twitched before a little nod followed and the redhead disappeared into the back. Snapping the seat in place for Evie to take. Without ceremony, the Camaro lurched forward to go. Billy fiddling with his radio and cursing all the hick stations until he found one at Evie's quiet recommendation. 

   “Is Evie your girlfriend now?” Max was leaning between them.

   “I’ll pull over, I swear to god, Max.” He lifted his eyes with an aggravated breath, turning hard after the stoplight changed. Max snickered and Evie wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Eyes darting at the many trees they passed until they began to blur. A sea of earthy tones and pure white frost pooling. Almost looked like chaotic, muddy ocean waves. Crashing.

   Sensing the nerves, Billy’s hand found her knee. Stayed there until they got to school. Thumb smoothing.

   “See you two later.” Chipper for once in the morning, Mad Max jumped out after them and raced down the hill to meet Dustin waving across the way. Evie huffed as he looked between Billy and her then asked Max an obvious question out of earshot.

   Students moved all around them. Many pausing to glance at Evie Fenny appearing from the magical blue of Billy Hargrove's legendary Camaro. She didn't belong there. One hot orgasm wouldn't change that. Fingers curled into her bag’s strap. Nervously twisting it.

   “He’s not gonna be in there and you won’t feel better until you face it.” Billy finished his cigarette against the hood. Eyes pointed.

   “We could just skip.” Evie looked around at passing students and Billy came to her side.

   “You do know how to tempt me. C’mon.” An arm swept around her shoulders. Nearby students took more frantic notes as they got down the hill so Evie wiggled from him. Kept walking and felt sick by the time they got to her locker.

   “People are staring at us.” She faced inside and sorted books. Billy leaned next to her. Eyes flickering with this unreadable expression. 

   “I didn’t notice.”

   Evie gave him this glance like she didn’t believe him. 

   "I don't care." Came the actual sentiment.

   “I have to get to calc.” Evie dismissively shut the metal door and gasped when he kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. Billy cupping her cheeks. Making a point in his way. Cartoon confetti tumbling down. Students watched Evie stumble into the lockers. Billy Hargrove’s arm steady around her back. Pulling her into his body as if he wanted her and only her and nothing else existed.

   “Clear enough, Angel?” He pulled out. Left her breathless. Unworried and wishing it was enough to unbind her nerves. A thumb fixed her lipstick idly. “See you in English. Don’t run.” Billy swept off. Students parting to let their king by. Evie shuddered to herself and hunched to hurry in the opposite direction. Cheeks burning. 

   Brush me again.

   She didn’t learn much in her first period. Heather met her at the door and kept glancing the entire class. Carol and Tommy both skipped. That should have brought Evie some ease. Instead, she figured she might blow chunks.

   The first bell had her springing up. Not even waiting for Heather as she disappeared into crowds. Shoving a bathroom door open so she could throw up her breakfast. Two eggs arranged with wheat toast. Mona had spent the entire time prattling about some man she was seeing as if Evie were her best friend and therapist and not a soul she gave birth to.

   Evie so often wondered if her mother had wanted her. Really wanted her. This life that stilled all her starlight, electric dreams. And not treated birth as a duty because these things can happen.

   Luck was not on her side. Evie had passed Carol in there with a couple of other girls in her gaggle's orbit. Smoking and late to class. Too cool for it either way.

   Bile and food exploded into the toilet bowl. A twisted clothing pin that was stuck somewhere it shouldn't have been came up too. Evie swallowed that a good while ago. Spots of blood pricked.

   “Gross, Fenny, didn’t know you were that type.” Vicki sneered outside at the sound. Snickering followed. “Two fingers are better than one, precious. I hope you give Billy’s dick better treatment.” Footsteps followed and Evie didn’t have time to be mortified. She figured they all left and gasped. Spotted a loose bolt in the wall. 

   Evie propped her head up and fumbled to unscrew it.

   Heard voices that told her to stop. Just stop. She can stop. She can stop this at any time.

   There rust.

   It went down and Evie felt that sickly wave of calm wash. Rocked back to a distant shore and wiped her mouth on a wad of thin toilet paper. Felt disgusting. Gave her cheek a soft pat like a baby. Breathe. Breathe. Feet staggered out with her backpack to see Carol sitting on the farthest sink like it was a throne. Smoking still and far too elated.

   Shame sunk its talons into Evie like Carol watched the entire thing play out. 

   Unable to even rasp, she went to the sink and washed out her mouth. 

   “Not preggers are you?” Smoke pooled up.

   “Just sick.” Evie bit back, hands braced over the sink.

   “About the party,” Carol continued, not listening as she snuffed out her cig against the mirror's corner, “I was so drunk. Don’t take it personally.”

   “Fine.”

   “I just think it’s a fresh start today. New leaves. Right?” Carol dug around as Evie shuddered and tried to reapply her lipstick. The redhead approached. “Here.”

   A stick of bubblegum flicked out. Evie eyed it suspiciously and Carol actually smiled. Glossy lips curling before she chewed her own piece. Blew a plush pink bubble for good measure.

   It popped.

   “Nothing funny. You need to work on those trust issues. Especially if you’re gonna hang with Billy. He gets around." Her head cocked. "Don't mind Vicki, by the way, Billy sorta dropped her unexpectedly. Hm. She was hoping to take him all the way to prom and only got one taste at Lover's Lake. Poor thing.” 

   Carefully, Evie took it. Let the sweet flavor fill her rustic mouth. Didn’t mask enough.

   “Thanks…”

   “Anytime.” Carol went to the door and stopped. Lips smacked. Couldn't hold it in any longer and let the glee flow. Red hair flicked. “So how does it work, you and Bowers, is it a grade thing? Are you just easy? I’m so curious because he seems like a guy who could get anyone. Billy, too. So, why you, Evie?"

   The question that kept Evangeline up at night haunted the air. Carol grew relentless.

   "Are you a witch of some kind? Could be comparing the young and old. Gross. Maybe you work well on your knees. I’d love some tips.”

   Evie stared at the sink. Heard the bell blare signaling she was late. A deafening silence followed.

   “I don’t…” She peered at Carol crossing her arms to smile. The gum went sour. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” 

   “I don’t know if I’m grossed out or impressed, Evie,” Carol faked a look of shock, “you really suck off our teacher. I mean, how pathetic do you have to be?” A nasty, faux scoff followed. 

   "As if you weren't leaning over his desk to press your tits against his back and hiking your skirts up all the same." Evie shot up. Caught Carol off guard by matching her malice. Easily.

   Evie found herself shaking. Face hot. Eyes betraying her too well.

   “But, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.” She spat the gum in the trash and pushed out to go. Carol followed her down the empty hallway, skipping and loving this side of Evie that poured like tar.

   “Does he at least buy you nice dinners? I bet he’s flush with cash. Buys you things in leather and lace. Does he have a preference? I think lace. You're a dainty spring flower he plucks the petals from all for himself. Right?" Carol struck Evie with an arrow at that sentiment. "Is Billy jealous? Bowers is probably into the weird shit. You must be a real pro at-” Carol hitched to squeal when Evie flared.

   Two hands plucking her up to shove her into the lockers. Breaths in sync, Evie found herself hissing. A fire built to pour and ravage. Warming them both. She leaned too close to Carol's face.

   “Just, shut up.” She trembled, teeth-baring. A silver tear fell down her cheek. Fingers warped into Carol's pink turtleneck sweater. The trapped girl actually reached up to catch it on her finger. Looked dreamily into the droplet like she was viewing a distant memory.

   “Ah, you’re actually crying. Like a little baby. You should start wearing a big red A, Fen. Bowers must love having a little baby girl around. Dress her up and down, down, down.” Carol sneered, glossy lips popping.

   She dropped the pretense as Evie held her there. Let it all flutter. Started to shatter silently. Evangeline wondered. She really wondered if what Carol Perkins saw in her that she hated so much was just herself reflected. Poor thing.

   Poor things.

   "You don't know shit about me." Evie managed. It sounded so unconvincing coming out.

   "I know all these people around here are weak. They're so fucking weak." Came the spark. "But, not us."

   Carol came in close. Added fuel to the fires. Did something peculiar and gave Evie this sickly sweet peck on the lips. Gloss and red mingled. She stole something she saw deep inside of Evie that she felt too. Got shoved back again when Evie recovered. Tongued her mouth after tasting the salt of more tears. Carol was welling now. Voice low. Starting to quiver. Evie's fingers left blushing marks on freckled skin.

   It hurt and Carol loved that it hurt.

   “It feels good, doesn’t it? Real good. Pile that pain onto someone else. This. Feels better.” Carol sniffled with budding fury. Waited for admission. She tremored and asked a question that killed them both. "What happens when we run out of silky petals, Evie, huh? What the fuck do we do then?"

   Tears shed, they didn't cleanse.

   "I d-don't know, Carol," Evie released the thoughts and mourned it deeply, "but, I think about it every single day."

   Disgust welled. Evie thought of Fredrick grabbing at her. Seething to keep their secrets locked at any cost.

   Wheels within wheels. Turning endlessly.

   Fires within fires.

   She dropped Carol and stalked off. Proud like Hester in The Scarlet Letter. Fleeting temptress with dominance and power for days like Abigail in The Crucible. Heroines and villains and virgins and whores and martyrs. None of them win.

   Women were always packaged just so. The world seemed to prefer that. All these stories Fredrick made her read and reread until she took them into her soul. Lolita who always gets the blame she never deserved because she was young and a victim and no one cares about that. Why don't they care about us? They care about how she was prepackaged by a society that never tried to save her.

   No one cares or grieves why and how women are carved from pristine marble, only that it's their fault if they tarnish and crack. Their fault if they stumble and fall. No going back.

   No going back.

   White roses painted red. They never asked first.

   Evie was a couple of steps away from the classroom when a mass of claws tore into her curls. Yanked her back so hard that her backpack fell off. 

   “Still pretending you’re better than me, bitch! Admit it!” 

   Evie cried out. Alerted nearby classes. Thought of Fredrick tearing her down the same way and whirled with her hand out on pure instinct. Smacked Carol in the mouth. Froze with huge eyes. And Carol actually smiled. Bloodied teeth and sticky lip gloss. She looked like such a girl there.

   "Alright, Fenny babe, I'll play the villain for you. Just like you wanted." Carol dove on Evie while classes began to pool out. They hit the floor and lockers rolling around. Not really landing punches or slaps. Just locked around each other shouting and tearing into clothing and loose hair. Both crying.

   “Shit!” Billy, Steve, and Tommy shoved through the jeering teens to pull them apart. Chaos rained.

   “Girl fight! Girl fight!” This school really reveled in such things every single time. 

   “We need help here! Ladies, enough!” The poor substitute in Bowers' room was not having a great first day.

   “Get off me!” Carol finally detached from Evie so Billy scooped her up under the arms. The redhead noticed Mr. Bowers wasn’t around and stopped struggling. This cruel look twisted her face. 

   “Can’t leave you alone for a second, huh?” Billy’s voice brought Evie back into the shouting as she scrambled up with his help.

   “You two! Principal!” Another teacher came between them. The useless security guard was just now jogging around the corner. Evie tore her bag up and passed Steve and Tommy. Carol was already stomping off. Something awful lighting her bones aflame. Red locks bounced and became fire.

   Ushered away through crowds, they were put into a cramped room. Seated next to each other.

   “Perkins and Fenny?” Their principal plopped into a chair with his secretary sitting in back to make notes. “I haven’t had problems with either of you.”

   Carol burst right there. Sobbed through the words.

   “It’s all Evie's fault! She slept with him and she’s just getting away with it! She gets everything! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all this and...and I want it to stop! I just want it all to stop!” 

   “Ms. Perkins, you’re not being app-!”

   “What if I told you it was a grown man, huh! Maybe someone who works here.”

   “Liar!” Evie wretched over her chair to swat at Carol until they had to be forced apart again into separate rooms. A clock ticked. Blared in her ear and made her crazy while she waited. Tears streamed.

   Carol was about to ruin her life. Drag all this shit back to the surface.

   God, what would Mona say if she knew her daughter was an evil temptress?

   Evie got into her bag for something. Anything to make it better. Nothing small enough to swallow at the bottom so Evie just rocked. Patting her cheek again to console herself. Bubblegum lip gloss still stained her red lips. No wiping it away.

   Chief Hopper poked his head into the room ten minutes later, causing her to drop the bag and send her items everywhere.

   Hester. Abigail. Lolita. Twisting goddesses. They all pay for it somehow. The narrative always makes them pay and they never had a chance to be anything else. Can't blame them.

   Poor things. Lost to the fires within fires.

   Books and papers flew out elegantly around her feet. Scattering away as Evie burst into harsh tears.

~~~~~~~~~

Oof, sorry to end it there lads! More to come and thank you so so much for following as always. All the comments mean so much to me and I’d love to chat about the chapter!! Thanks!

TAGGED: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana   @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan​ @10blurredsmoke10 @stanley--barber  @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown

[eudaimonic-writes]

Whisper Your Love - Chapter 5

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005500/chapters/32703936

Chapter 4

Masterpost

Despite what many may think, fitting in didn't come easy to Eddie Kaspbrak. As a kid he was better at dance and gymnastics than he was at football and basketball, and that made him the target of many bullies and rumours. Even before he knew what the word meant, he was being called a 'homo' in the halls and had other boys running away from him as if he had something they could 'catch'. This, of course, wasn't helped at home with his mother's constant worrying and over-protectiveness; not a day went by where she wasn't shoving pills down his throat and making up some new disease that Eddie must have because he sneezed twice in a row. 

The day Eddie realised the medications she had him on were all fake was both the best and worst day of his life, so to say; the worst because he realised that his whole childhood was wasted on sugar pills and missed field trips, birthday parties he couldn't attend because he was 'too sick' and clothes he never got to wear because they'd flare up his imaginary eczema. He remembered crying for hours on Chris' shoulder that day, ranting about all of the ways his mother had ruined his life, and then once he'd finally calmed down enough to take a breath, Chris had said something that completely changed his perspective. 

"But at least now your future can be your own."

And oh, was it going to be alright.

As soon as Eddie entered freshman year, he was signing up to every extra-curricular activity he could squeeze into his timetable. Track, Chess, Birdwatching, World History, and Cheerleading. 

He'd dropped out of track pretty quick, his short legs not much help in that department - not to mention the phantom asthma he was (at the time) still trying to get over - and, after a couple short months, Birdwatching had slowly gotten so mind-numbingly boring that not even Stan's presence could help it. Chess was a dud too, because he didn't like how the people in the club looked at him like he was an idiot just because he hadn't been playing since he was five - or something. The other two, though, the other two had been a success. 

Firstly, World History is where Eddie Kaspbrak met Ben Hanscom, and he may have not stayed in that club for very long either, but their friendship easily transcended the realms of after-school meetings in the library with the other history dorks into lunches, group projects, movie trips, and eventually a full-blown friendship. It helped that Ben got on so well with his other friends, and with Ben being the new kid, it was easy to fit him into their group. 

Secondly, Cheerleading. 

Eddie didn't think he'd be good at it; all of the boy's he'd seen on the squad were tall and muscular enough to hold up all of the girls, they were at the bottom of the pyramid, all tense muscles and lean backs and Eddie? Eddie wasn't. Eddie was small, muscled but not overly so, and even shorter than most of the girls on the squad who all somehow resembled supermodels. Eddie was better suited for the fancy tricks than the heavy lifting and, luckily for him, the captain at the time had seen Eddie's try-out performance and known. She'd smiled at him when she posted the team list a week later and that had been that - Eddie learned that he didn't need to be like the other boys, because boys can be on top of the pyramid too. 

His popularity had skyrocketed after that, and even more-so a year later when Chris made the football team, and they became Derry High's 'It' Couple. 

He made new friends- the Gretas who act like they're sisters with their rivalries but hard-core protectiveness of each other. Darla, a sweet girl with wild natural curls that she braids during game season, twisting ribbons that match her uniform and beads for good luck into the strands before tying it all back with a gigantic scrunchie. There's Audra, their captain, who dyes her naturally red hair black and denies it, even though they've all known each other since kindergarten and everyone knows. He met Mike through Chris, who he knows used to be home schooled before transferring in middle-school. 

You could say he's pretty lucky, to be where he is, all things considered - but luck has nothing to do with it. Eddie did it on his own, despite his mother's constant wailing and his own self-conscious setbacks, he did it all anyway.

And he's damn proud. 

Well, sort of.

"Your boyfriend bet me I couldn't convince you to come to the rager on Saturday." Eddie slams his locker shut, fixing Stan with as much of a glare he can muster when he really just wants to roll his eyes. 

"And you took that bet? Come on Stan, you know I hate parties and besides my-"

"Your mom won't like you staying out late, yes, but listen-" Eddie groans and begins walking, holding his Algebra book to his chest like a shield against whatever diatribe Stan is about to throw at him to convince him to go to the stupid party everyone has been talking about for the past week or so. "- you can say you're studying at mine and that you're staying over because you don't want to walk home late in the dark."

Eddie grunts noncommittally, and Stan sighs. "C'mon, Eddie, I really can't afford to give your boyfriend twenty bucks and if I can't convince you then-"

"Twenty bucks?" Eddie halts, pressing his arm into Stan's chest to stop him from walking too. He raises his eyebrow sceptically, taking in Stan's apprehensive face, and shakes his head. "Okay, no, what else?"

Stan goes red, "um, what do you mean?"

"Um..." Eddie mocks, "Stanley. Stan. I know you better than anybody else and I know for a fact that you don't care about parties, and that you definitely do not care about a dumb bet you made with my boyfriend."

"I do care." Stan mumbles, but Eddie waves him away. 

"So what else is it?" He asks. "Why is it oh so important to you that I attend this party-?"

"Rager."

"-and why are you trying to hide it."

Stan crosses his arms, and Eddie smirks, leaning back against whoever's locker they've stopped by and making a come-on gesture with his free hand. Eddie knows what the answer's going to be already, Stan is an open book by design, abhorrent of secrets of any kind - no matter how bad they may be - and there's only one topic that can make Stan break that rule of his because, if there's one thing Stan hates more than lies, it's crushes. Eddie just likes to torture him. Their staring match continues for a few moments before Stan relents with a deliberately bored sounding sigh. 

"I overheard Bev Marsh talking to Bill-" Eddie smirks, Stan ignores him, finishing his sentence in a breathless rush like it physically pains him to admit it. "And that new kid about it and they both said they'd be there."

"Aw." Eddie croons. "Stanley you're blushing!"

"Shut up." Stan grumbles. Eddie cackles delightedly. 

"You know, I think I will go. If only to watch you stare at Denbrough from the farthest corner away from him for the entire night."

"You know, I actually don't want you to come anymore." Stan deadpans, scowling lightly. 

"Too late." Eddie singsongs. The warning bell interrupts anything Stan might have said, and Eddie takes it as an opportunity to make his escape before Stan can eviscerate him with his glares. 

  *

 The Rager, predictably, is exactly the opposite of anywhere Eddie would choose to be on a Friday night. He'd much rather be at home, coming up with routines while listening to his own - good, if he does say so himself - music, and not standing in a freezing cold clearing, wishing he'd worn a heavier jacket, and listening to a drunken Chris ramble on about some football move he's trying to perfect. Chris is well on his way to drunk, and Eddie lost Stan some time ago to the crowd, the little shit. 

Ben had disappeared too, mumbling something about finding a bathroom (as if there even were any this far out at the Quarry), but Eddie had just rolled his eyes at the obvious lie and let him go. 

Chris seems to have realised that Eddie isn't really listening, because he presses his thumb into the crook of Eddie's elbow to get his attention before nodding down to the empty cup Eddie had been holding since he finished his first drink when he first got there. "Do you want another one?" He asks, already veering off towards the drinks table. 

Eddie's eyes widen, grabbing Chris by the back of his letterman jacket - that definitely needs to be washed since Eddie doubts he's let his mom touch it since he first put it on two weeks ago - and pulling him back and away from the overflowing 'bar'. "Nope." Eddie says, "No more, you're trashed, and I'm not dragging your ass home again. How about we go dance?"

Chris pouts, but Eddie pouts better, and he's soon getting his way, pulling Chris to the dance floor by the hand smugly. They're dancing to a song Eddie doesn't recognise when he spots Stan shuffling his way through the crowd. Their eyes meet and Eddie smirks as he trails his gaze pointedly to the corner he'd seen Denbrough standing in about a half-hour ago. Sure enough, the quiet boy is still there, staring down at his phone with a quizzical little tilt to his brow as the lanky looking boy next to him chugs at his cup. Stan's gaze follows his own and, when Eddie looks back, he's got an expression on his face that Eddie considers Stan's form of blushing - something between stony, scared, and like he just ate something exceptionally sour. 

Eddie laughs to himself, just as Chris decides to pull him even closer. "What are you laughing at?" He asks, and Eddie chuckles as he stands on his tippy-toes to peer over Chris shoulder. Stan is looking anywhere except at him - his gaze mostly flicking from Bill's dark corner to the bonfire a few feet away where the stoners are sitting. 

"Oh, nothing." Eddie sighs, "Just Stanley's insane crush on Denbrough..."

"He's still into that guy? Isn't he a little emo for Stan's tastes?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Bill's nice, Chris, just quiet."

Chris hums. "Yeah, I guess. I'm going for another drink." This time, Eddie doesn't bother trying to stop him, knowing it'll just end in an argument. Instead, he ambles over to Stan who scowls at him harder and harder with every step he takes until Eddie is right next to him and Stan is outright glaring.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Stan greets him with, and Eddie chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. 

"Wasn't going to, just wondering how the bird watching is going?"

Eddie really is lucky Stan is a pacifist, or he's pretty sure he would've been toast by now. Eddie laughs at the half-pained, half-amused expression on Stan's face before glancing over to the drinks table where he'd left Chris. "Jesus... can't even go two fucking minutes." He mumbles. Stan's eyes follow his before he's raising his eyebrows.

"He's really drunk, huh?" 

Eddie nods. "I should go and get him home before he punches that guy in the face."

 *

 Eddie has never been so cold in his life. The cold in his bones and soaking into his skin takes up the larger part of his thoughts until there's no room for any anger, fear or even hurt. He just feels cold. 

He's vaguely aware of someone talking to him, sitting him down on the shore of the Quarry as warm hands grip onto his shoulders, but all he can do is stare and shake. He feels himself shaking, feels his teeth chattering, but his eyes continue to linger, unblinking, on the guy before him. 

He's gorgeous.

Even in the darkness, with his hair plastered to his face from the freezing water, Eddie can still see how beautiful this boy in front of him is. He feels a weight land on his shoulders, and another voice joins the first but Eddie can't look away from the guy in front of him. This gorgeous being that saved his life - or is this the afterlife? And this man is the angel sent to greet him at the gates. 

"-alright? Eddie?"

Eddie wants to nod but he can't, he's too cold, his body feels like it's frozen in place. All he can do is think.

I can hear you. I'm so cold. Thank you, thank you. Please don't leave me in the cold.

 *

 Eddie learns the boy's name is Richie Tozier. Richie wears crazy print sweaters under leather jackets and jeans that are ripped all to fuck. He wears muddy converse and has the dorkiest Ralphie Parker glasses when he forgets to wear his contacts. His hair, when it's not plastered to his face with freezing cold quarry water or tied up into a bun is long and curly and Eddie wants more than anything to run his hands through it, see if it feels as soft as it looks. 

Eddie wants to do a lot of things. 

But, mainly, Eddie wants to know who Richie Tozier is.

He knows he's from California, he knows he sits with Bev Marsh and Bill Denbrough at lunch and he knows the guy shares several classes with him, including study hall. He wants to know what kind of ice-cream Richie likes, what music he listens to when nobody is around, if he prefers beer or wine and whether or not his socks match (he's willing to bet they don't). He wants to know what he smells like when the overpowering smell of Quarry-water isn't clogging his nose, and he wants to hear his voice when his teeth aren't chattering and his ears aren't ringing. 

For the first time since Eddie found Cheerleading, Eddie feels like he's found something worth-while again. 

He just needs to be sure.

They're talking in the Butterfly Garden, sitting under the waterfall on Eddie's favourite carved bench about their likes and dislikes. Eddie feels a little sad when Richie brushes off saving his life like he doesn't deserve the recognition, like it was nothing, because it wasn't nothing- not to Eddie - and while it may have been something 'anyone would have done', it was something Richie did. And that's important. 

So they talk, and as they talk Eddie finds himself staring once again at Richie's face - the way his wide mouth curves around every word like each one deserves their own smile, the way he laughs easily when anything is even the remotest bit funny, and the way he watches Eddie right back. He does all of this, and all Eddie can think about are the butterflies and that stupid quote from that one movie - that when a butterfly flaps its wings in New Mexico, it has the power to cause a hurricane in China. Eddie figures Richie is sort of like that - he's Eddie's butterfly. 

Eddie has always been careful, always been pressed by his mother and the town to present the perfect image, always felt like it was his job to change the way people like him are viewed - or were viewed, before Adrian happened - in a town like Derry. He's always been sure to follow the rules, pander to the expectations of everyone around him so they have no reason to hate, to go back to the way things were. With Richie, he feels that weight lifting. 

He feels like Richie might be something special, like, because they've met, something somewhere in the world is shifting to accommodate the force of what's to come of it.  

Because Richie flapped his wings, and now there's a hurricane tearing through Eddie's carefully constructed world. 

 *

 When Richie leaves the day after Eddie first slept in his bed, his mother immediately begins a tirade of abuse against him - that he's made Eddie sick, that he's not the right sort (as if Eddie himself would be considered the right sort if he didn't put every ounce of his being into pretending to be something he's not). Eddie only half listens to her shouting, ignoring the way her nails dig into the tender flesh of his shoulder, right where the collar of Richie's shirt has fallen down to expose his collarbones. She starts crying when he doesn't respond to her taunts, and this is where Eddie's insides really start to twist. 

Thirteen year old Eddie would've done anything his mother asked to stop the fat tears from rolling down her face, collecting in the lines around her mouth and her double chins. He would've fallen all over himself to make her happy but eighteen year old Eddie doesn't particularly care about that, he just wants her to stop. 

It's not that he wants his mom to be sad, quite the opposite, he's just learned over the years that making Sonia Kaspbrak happy equates to making himself miserable. 

"Mom..." He tries soothing her, listening to the sound of Richie's car driving away. A part of him wishes Richie would've stayed, another wishes he'd taken him with him, and the last part of him wishes he'd never come in the first place and seen what Eddie's life is really like. Sonia turns away from him, her wails getting louder and louder as she brings her chubby hands up to cover her eyes. Eddie breathes for a second, tamping down the urge to just scream back at her and see how she likes it. She'd probably have him sectioned if he did that. "Mom please stop crying, I'm not sick, I'm perfectly fine."

Sonia's sobs cut off suddenly and she whirls around, Eddie stumbling a little with the force of her suddenly angry gaze. Oh, here we go. "This is that boy's fault isn't it?!" She growls. "He's the one turning you into this... this delinquent!"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, first, he's called Richie, and second, he's literally only been here like two months so he couldn't have possi-"

"Oh!" She cries, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, raising her eyes to the heavens. Eddie grimaces, the sour taste in his mouth that had been there since she started ranting at dinner making it hard to swallow. "What has he done to you?! My baby, lying, staying out all night, disobeying your mother!"

"Mom, really, I-"

"He's corrupted you! What else has he done, Eddie? Has he touched you?! Have you let him touch you?!" Sonia hisses, and Eddie feels every argument die. He feels sick all of a sudden - he can handle it when his mother is spewing bullshit, when she's ranting out of her ass and Eddie can ignore her. When she's right, though? When she's right, or even just close to being right, it's hard to block out that little voice from his childhood that tells him he should listen to her, do what mommy says and be a good boy. When she's right, he feels himself wilting. 

He begins to sweat, and Sonia Kaspbrak notices. Eddie doesn't see the slap coming, the sound of her hand hitting his cheek ringing in his ears as he begins to cry silently. Sonia's hand flies to her mouth, and for a moment Eddie think's the distraught in her eyes is because of what she's done, but then she's grabbing at him, and opening her mouth and Eddie feels himself sinking. His mother just hit him. 

"What has he done? How far have you let him corrupt you?" She demands, shaking him. "Are you still pure, Eddie?"

Eddie chokes on his words, still too numb from being hit to really feel the embarrassment of what she's asking him. "Y-yes!" He stutters. "Mamma, please!"

Sonia releases him, sighing in relief as she brings her palms together in front of her lips. Eddie crosses his arms in front of his chest protectively, his tears cool on his stinging cheek. When Sonia looks at him again, she looks calmer, less likely to snap, but Eddie can tell she's still worked up. Her hair is wild, a single curler clinging to a lock at the back of her head and her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. Eddie feels like he probably looks no better at this point. 

"I never want to see him again, Edward, do you hear me?" She seethes. "Christopher is a good boy, a Godly boy, and I will not have a son of mine gallivanting off being a... a faggot and a slut!" Eddie flinches at that, and suddenly he's fifteen again, standing in a rainy graveyard and listening to his mother gossiping quietly with one of her church friends. 

He deserved it if you ask me... a faggot and a slut... this is God's punishment. 

"Don't say that, mamma." He whispers, hating how small his voice sounds. He can feel tears blocking his throat at the harsh memories, can feel panic forming in his chest. "Please don't say that."

Sonia coos at him, wrapping her arms around him and crushing him to her chest. She's shorter than him, but Eddie feels about two feet tall in the wake of her venomous words. "Sweetie, I'm just saying what everyone else would say! You don't want to end up like that other boy, do you Eddie-bear?"

Adrian. His name was Adrian. 

Why can't anyone else seem to remember that?

"I just want what's best for you... and that ruffian is the wrong sort for my little Eddie-bear." She pulls him tighter, and Eddie can't find the words to object. "Just look what he's made you do! He's turned you into an adulterer." Eddie feels himself sob, but he can barely hear himself over his mother's words ringing in his head. He wants to disagree, tell her she's wrong - but she isn't. He is a cheater, and a liar, and it's wrong. "Hush, baby, it isn't your fault. God sends us temptations every day, and now you know to avoid him."

Eddie's tears continue to fall as his mother begins to pray.  

 *

 When Eddie finally makes it upstairs, he immediately goes to the bathroom to throw up. The sounds of his mother's prayers ringing in his head to the backdrop of Richie's smiling face. 

He feels dizzy thinking about it, like the hurricane has finally reached him and is wreaking havoc in his mind - his vision swirling as he flies out of control. He's losing control, his world is in shambles. 

And he's going to do absolutely nothing to stop it.

It's too late, mother, it's already done.

 *

 Stan is probably Eddie's best friend. He's not his oldest friend - not like Chris is - and he'd never tell Chris that he isn't his best, but Eddie truly feels like Stan understands him better than anyone else in the world.

Stan understands what it's like to have to mould yourself into this idea of 'Derry perfectness' in order to fit in; as one of the only Jewish families in Derry, and the only Jewish kid in their school, Stan has always striven for the same image that Eddie has; clean, nice, and penitent. Chris, on the other hand, is the son of the most respected man in Derry - the priest - and, because of this, his sins are forgiven with little fanfare. It's not fair and, over the last few years, Eddie has built up more than enough resentment over it. Resentment over how easy it is for Chris to just be while people like Eddie and Stan have to walk on eggshells. 

That's why Eddie prefers Stan, because Chris never got it when Eddie mentioned it - never even tried to - but Stan and he didn't even need to talk to communicate with one another. Stan gets it all on his own. 

Some would argue it's a little strange, the son of the Rabbi and the son of the Priest in the same social circle - and they'd be right. Stan and Chris definitely would not be friends if it wasn't for Eddie. Stan hates Chris more than he hates liars because something Stan hates more than liars and crushes combined are hypocrites. 

And it's all a little hypocritical, the way Derry treats and alienates the people who don't fit the mould. The subtle way they marginalise people, with smiles and false pity. Chris doesn't fit the mould, being anything but straight is not part of Derry's mould - unless, of course, you're not visibly queer. Chris can press himself into the mould because, for all intents and purposes, he's a straight man in Derry resident's eyes. It's like their eyes just glaze straight over Eddie when they pass the couple in the street.

Chris is big, muscled, his cuticles are overgrown and he's not afraid to break a bone. He doesn't wear enough layers in the winter, and he spreads his legs wide when he sits down on the bus. He's a man, no doubt about it. Derry can see it and it's like they see Eddie's feminine physique, short stature, and soft small hands clasped in Chris' and think hey, close enough. They gladly overlook the only gay part about Chris if it means they get to keep their fancy ideas of the perfect Priest's son. It was the same with Don.

And Chris is perfectly fine with letting them think that. 

But then their eyes do find Eddie and they see a boy who looks like a girl, wears girls' colours and uses girls' shampoo, and they see wrong. They aren't willing to overlook the fact that it was Eddie who fixed Chris' car when it broke down last summer, and it's Eddie who got a score of 100 on his theology essay in ninth grade because he knows the bible inside and out. They aren't willing to overlook Stan's manliness, or his good morals. 

The simple fact of the matter is, Eddie isn't the right sort of gay, and Stan isn't the right sort of religious man.

So it's not really a surprise when Stan is the first to notice Eddie acting out. He sees the mould for what it is, so he sees it also when Eddie's shape shifts further away from it, rather than trying to squeeze in, like he used to do. He sees it, and he doesn't like it. 

He first brought it up on Thursday, the day Eddie went to the bar to watch Richie sing - and not because Chris asked him to go like he pretended. He'd glared at Eddie until Eddie had told him the truth, and Eddie felt it when Stan called him a hypocrite. Eddie had realised in that moment that, in trying to break away from the restrictive role he'd been playing, he'd unintentionally become everything his best friend hated most in the world. He'd given in to his crush, he'd lied to do it, and he'd become a hypocrite. 

He felt it in the look Stan gave him when Richie came through the door to the bathrooms, he'd felt it when he'd gone back over to Richie's house that night - lying again - to beg for Richie's forgiveness. He'd felt it at school on Monday, and again later that night when he'd gone home once more with Richie.

He'd rested his head on Richie's chest as the other boy had slept, his body shifting underneath Eddie's with every deep breath. His hand resting heavily on Eddie's lower back where he'd been rubbing circles until the pull of slumber had dragged him in, and Eddie felt it when he turned his head, pressed a kiss to Richie's bare chest, and closed his eyes, following him down. 

He felt it the next day too, after school, lying on Chris' bed with papers strewn around him. They'd been doing homework for a few hours now, and Eddie had had to scribble out the word a few times as his brain had wondered while his pen kept writing. Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite.

He sighs and puts his pen down, picking up his phone instead. Chris shuffles at the desk, half-turned away from Eddie, and Eddie reasons he's far enough away that he couldn't read his phone even if he tried. 

He pulls up his messages with Stan, greeted by a slew of blue text bubbles from Saturday through Monday left opened but unanswered. 

 To: Stanley<3

are you still mad at me?

 He doesn't expect an answer, so he places his phone down back on the bed and picks up his pen once more, crossing out whatever he'd written last and re-writing it. A few moments later, he's surprised by the little ding that signals an incoming text. Over on the desk, Chris jumps, his eyes flicking to Eddie before migrating back down to whatever he's working on. 

"Who's texting you?"

Eddie checks his phone and, sure enough, "Stanley."

"Oh." Chris hums. 

 From: Stanley<3

Yes.

 Eddie frowns, a little downtrodden, but before he can begin begging for Stan's forgiveness, he receives another text. 

 From: Stanley<3

But I understand. 

 Eddie feels a little thrill go through him, quickly typing out a response. 

 To: Stanley<3

you do???

 From: Stanley<3

I guess. Do you like him?

 To: Stanley<3

yea

 There's a pause, and Eddie bites his lip. He's underselling it a little bit, he really likes Richie, but he knows Stan wouldn't appreciate a monologue so he keeps it to himself. He can hear Chris shifting over by the desk, papers rustling. His phone pings again. 

 From: Stanley<3

Okay, then you need to break it off with Chris. 

 Eddie frowns, resisting the urge to groan. 

 To: Stanley<3

i knowwww

 From Stanley<3

I mean it, Eddie. Chris is an ass but he

doesn't deserve this any more than you did. 

 Eddie bites his lip, trying to figure out how to word a response to that that doesn't sound whiny or like it's filled with excuses - Stan hates excuses - but before he can, Chris lets out a loud yawn from over by the desk and slams his book closed, swivelling in his chair to face Eddie. "Babe, I'm so bored, let's take a break."

Eddie locks his phone, picking up his pen and scribbling a few more nonsensical words onto his page, trying to look busy. "If we take a break now, you know you won't finish later."

Chris groans again, pulling himself off his chair and falling face first onto the bed next to Eddie. He lands on a book Eddie wasn't really using, but he feels annoyed anyway as Chris carelessly pulls it out from under him and flings it onto the floor. "Oh, c'mon, it's not like you're really working, you've been texting with Stan for the past ten minutes." He smirks, shuffling over and wrapping an arm around Eddie's waist, pulling him in. "I know something better we could both be doing."

Not this again. Eddie feels sick all of a sudden but hides it with a strained laugh as he removes Chris' arm from his waist. "No, Chris."

Chris pouts, Eddie hears his phone go off again but doesn't even try to check it. Chris raises his eyebrows, taking this almost as an invitation, and suddenly Eddie feels a hand tracing up the back of his thigh. Eddie shivers as the hand reaches his ass, and Chris grins in triumph before bringing their mouths together in a heated kiss. He places his other hand on Eddie's hip, rolling him over before moving to straddle one of Eddie's legs, his knee firmly pressed up against Eddie's groin.

The sick feeling doesn't go away as Eddie allows Chris to kiss him, and it gets stronger when Eddie realises that he doesn't feel this way when he's kissing Richie. He feels a little dizzy at the realisation, so dizzy that he doesn't notice when Chris starts grinding softly against his leg, his half-hard erection pressing insistently into Eddie's hip and his kiss becoming sloppier as he moans into it. Eddie barely feels it, too lost in his own head and the realisation that it no longer feels like he's cheating on Chris. 

It feels like he's cheating on Richie. 

Eddie snaps out of his thoughts when one of Chris hands shifts Eddie's legs until he's between them, and then Eddie feels something similar to what he felt when he fell into the Quarry. Cold, confused, and most importantly, like Richie is all he can see. 

"Stop." He mumbles, turning his head away from Chris. Chris just begins kissing bruises down his neck so Eddie repeats himself, a little louder, his words punctuated by a small shove. Chris gets the message, pulling back with a groan that's more of a frustrated sigh and falling down into the bed beside Eddie. 

"Eddie, come on, we've been dating for years, when are we gonna do it, huh?"

Eddie huffs, sitting up onto his knees so no part of his body is touching his boyfriend's. Chris looks perplexed at this, clearly frustrated with Eddie's behaviour. Yeah? Well me too buddy. "Is that all you want? Sex?"

Chris' mouth falls open in clear offense, his eyebrows furrowed. "Obviously fucking not or I wouldn't still be here would I?"

"You're only here because I fucking let you stay." Eddie counters. He feels a surge of hurt at his own words, the harsh reminder of that time. 

Chris, however, apparently feels no remorse. "Oh, not this shit again - it's ancient history Eddie!" Eddie growls, throwing himself off the bed and collecting his things, shoving them into his backpack. Chris huffs. "Babe." Eddie ignores him, casting about to find his shoes and trying hard not to let any frustrated tears slip down his cheeks. He hears movement behind him and figures Chris must've stood up too. "Babe, come on!"

"No!" Eddie whirls around, shoving Chris hard in the chest. He barely moves and Eddie just feels all the more angry for it. "Do not tell me to get over this, Chris."

"It's been three years! Everyone else is over it - it's just you, holding this over my head for no fucking reason."

"'No fucking reason'?" Eddie seethes. Shoving the one converse he's found onto his foot without bothering to do up the laces, he huffs out a single bitter laugh. "You cheated on me, Chris!"

The truth is, Eddie is over that part. He doesn't particularly care anymore because, over time, he began to care less and less about Chris and with that, his ability to care about the rest of their issues disappeared. He's not sad, he didn't lie to Richie. He doesn't want a rebound or revenge, he's just so angry because Adrian was his friend. Adrian was the one who told him it was okay to feel the way he felt, he was the one who held him while he cried after telling his mother he was gay. He was the one who told him that being gay doesn't make you a sinner or a bad person. 

He was the first person to know when Chris and Eddie went on their first date, and second, and third, and when Chris kissed him for the first time. The only person up until a year ago, when Eddie found out that Adrian had gone straight from holding Eddie - as he cried over his mother's harsh words - to his boyfriend's house, where he'd found his boyfriend's little brother, his friend's boyfriend, alone, and betrayed them all. 

And Eddie didn't even have time to hate Adrian for it - because he never found out until two years after Adrian died. He never figured out how he was supposed to feel. He was caught somewhere between grief, anger, and fear. He loved Adrian because that's all he'd ever known. He hated Chris but stayed with him, because Chris was once his best friend, and he naively believed that he could get over the betrayal the same way he got over it for Adrian.

He did get over it, the hate, but he also got over the love, the trust, everything except the betrayal because what he failed, or refused, to understand is that he never got over it for Adrian, he just pushed it aside because hating him made him feel guilty; so, instead of hating everyone else, he hated himself for still loving everyone who has ever betrayed him. 

Chris tries one last time to pacify Eddie, grabbing onto Eddie's hip as Eddie nearly stumbles trying to put on his second shoe. Eddie pulls away from the touch like he'd been burned. "Eddie, relax, he's dead now anyway."

Eddie freezes, the nausea in the pit of his stomach returning tenfold, replacing all of his anger from the past few minutes. Relax. How could he? He's dead now anyway. Eddie looks at Chris and he sees a stranger, he doesn't see the boy who sobbed into his hands as he confessed, spurred on by a family meal gone wrong just before his brother left Derry for the last time. He doesn't see the boy who had held Eddie whenever Eddie had cried, speaking words of comfort and wisdom. He sees a man, standing in his once best-friend's now boyfriend's clothes, saying things that send chills down Eddie's spine. 

He sees someone who is careless with his words, who will hurt you and then say he didn't mean it. Eddie knows it’s true, Chris never means it, but he does it anyway.

It's cruel, the way people speak about Adrian now. As if all he is is the dead homosexual of Derry, Maine. He was more than that; he was kind and he was funny, he was also cruel, and deceitful. Death was no light subject, especially not Adrian's death, and especially not to Eddie, and Chris had just completely disregarded that. Trampled all over Adrian's impact like it was nothing - like Adrian dying didn't change literally everything about Derry. Like his actions with Adrian before his death didn't change literally everything about their relationship.

What's worse is that it feels not only like he's disregarding Adrian, but he's disregarding the broken trust Eddie still harbours between them. Like Eddie's trust means nothing to him, because Eddie is just a secondary role in the hierarchy of this sham they call a relationship.  

It leaves Eddie feeling weak.

"You're right." Eddie mutters, his hands clinging to the straps of his backpack, fingertips turning white from how hard his fists are clenching around the fabric. "He's dead. You fucked him, and then he died - maybe I don't wanna follow in his footsteps."

 *

 While Eddie is walking home, his untied laces dragging along the rainy sidewalk, he checks his phone and see's one last text from Stan. 

 From: Stanley<3

You don't need him anymore.

Chapter 6 coming soon

Masterpost