°°·.⬧︎ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏɴᴏᴍʏ ⬧︎.·°° | ʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ |

#24: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ

"Ladies first," I said blatantly, straightening the long blue tie that dangled from around my neck, over my ketchup-stained white t-shirt. I had barely even tried to dress up, I was simply wearing jeans, white shoes, a tie, a t-shirt, and an open black blazer I borrowed from my dad. Dressing up for the dance was like dressing up for my own funeral.

"I'm not going in there," Eddie flexed his hands nervously at his sides as he gazed into the open doors of the school gym, where colorful lights were blaring all over the place and music was pounding. "No way in hell."

The quiet and darkness of the hallway beside us brought me comfort. It was like a portal to another world.

"We have to, dude. I don't want you getting hurt tomorrow."

"That's a twist. How about not wanting me to get hurt today?"

I scratched the side of my head. It was a double-edged sword for certain, either way lead to some serious shit, but I didn't know what else to do. Be a coward and take what was coming to me, or chicken out and take what was coming to me even worse? I knew what I'd choose, but Eddie didn't.

"He's basically waiting, Richie," Eddie walked down one distinct step without watching his footing, his eyes wide and glued to the entrance of the gym. "I just don't know if I can risk it, I mean, I just- I'm scared, man, I don't even have my inhaler, or-"

"Hey," I grabbed Eddie's shoulders softly, and he stopped his steady rambling, his mouth hung open as he glanced over at me. I didn't even mean to clutch him as tightly as I did, but I was scared too; and touching him and gazing into his eyes made me feel better. "Listen to me, okay? Who defeated a killer clown in the dark and disgusting sewer, with fucking asthma?"

Eddie dropped his eyes to the floor, his voice low. "Me."

"Who? Speak up."

He raised his voice a little more. "Me."

"Damn fucking right, you. You're scared of some low-life with a mullet and a 1.0 average? No, you're better than that. You might as well show that motherfucker who's boss, alright? He has no business beating the shit out of us for things we can't control."

And then my eyes went wide. I spoke before even thinking about saying it. I wished that I could throw a rope around my words before they reached Eddie's ears and round them back into my throat, but it didn't work like that. It was too late.

All the blood drained from my face, and Eddie glanced up quizzically.

"Things we can't control?" Eddie repeated, and it made me wince.

I turned around quickly and rubbed the back of my sweaty neck, slick and cold, my hand shaking. He was going to ask and ask, and I would keep denying that I said anything, and it would be a huge mess until I exploded like some nuclear truth bomb. 

(richie tozier sucks flamer cock!!!)

The disgusting truth. I wasn't ready to lose my best friend. He was going to have to beat it out of me if he wanted it.

No, Richie.

For once in my life, I should just shut the fuck up. Just disappear. Just hide. Just die. Anything, I wanted out, badly. Maybe leaving and letting Henry Bowers kill me later wasn't such an awful idea. It was better than this.

I cleared my throat, ready to retaliate without something clever, because that's all I know how to do. But Eddie inhaled and looked up, his mouth opening, which made it apparent that he was going to speak. 

"Why does Henry shit on you all the time, Rich?" he asked, playing with his hands. "I know what he does, and I know what he says, but why? What's the point?"