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felinehypocritical · 7 years ago

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dearest (though you’re the nearest to my heart) - chapter 3

Chapter Summary: “It’s juh-huh-hust so w-w-weird,” Bill said, his voice strained and absently confused. “He hasn’t tuh-t-talked to me in wuh-w-weeks.” He tossed the baseball he was holding up into the air behind him once, catching it in his mitt behind his back before tossing it right into the waiting Mike’s glove.

“I dunno, man, he seems pretty normal to me, just a little sad.” Mike raised an eyebrow. “Maybe just let him come to you?”

Bill frowned deeper, the advice getting deeper under his skin every time it was given to him. “I’ve truh-truh-tr-t-truh- F-F-F-FUCK!” He closed his eyes, fingers running to cover his ears and grasping in his hair as he took deep breaths and tried to compose himself.

Composure didn't come easy in Derry, Maine.

Words: 3110

available on ao3

Two weeks week, four days, and fifteen hours.

That’s how long it had been since Bill Denbrough had last hung out with his best friend.

He’d last seen him when Bill had (stupidly) made a move after a rousing game of monopoly. He’d last seen him before Eddie had dropped Bill’s hand and run away, fear and a sort of warped disgust in his eyes. He’d last seen him when he’d said he’d felt sick, and started to walk home. And not since.

Bill had started out making excuses- it was flu season, so Eddie might be sick, or afraid of the Losers getting him sick. Eddie’s mom might be keeping him home right after school to do winter cleaning, or something ridiculous. Eddie was just taking a little bit of a break from the Losers as a group, because it was stressing them out. He was fighting with Richie. Anything.

Well, it had almost been two fucking weeks, and the kid wasn’t back to Bill yet. Something was up. And it was driving Bill nuts.

Bill was used to seeing Eddie every day- to being able to talk to him about anything at anytime, to be able to check up on him. To see how nice he looked that day. And now he couldn’t. Because Eddie was avoiding him.

They talked a little, sure- it was hard to ignore the guy who sits next to you in every class- but it was as little as possible. And when they did talk, Eddie always looked like he had early onset lockjaw. He looked so stressed and little and scared. So Bill dropped it- he told himself Eddie would just come when he was ready. He wanted to be mad at Eddie for brushing him off- he wanted to be angry that Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder and randomly up and leaving him. But he couldn’t be.

Because he was major, super in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.

Not just a little, no, not a crush. Not an infatuation. He LOVED Eddie. He thought about him day and night. Daydreamed about him. Thought about him every two minutes. If Richie knew, he’d make a joke about how teenagers think about sex every ten seconds in relation to Bill thinking about Eddie every seven seconds. It was BAD. So no, he wasn’t mad at Eddie for this- he was borderline heartbroken. He wanted his best friend back.

Bill loved his other friends, sure- they were all great. But Eddie was his BEST friend. He was different. He laughed at all Bill’s jokes, even if they were bad, he was always patient with Bill’s stutter. He waited for Bill after school. He let Bill copy his health homework, because he knew how Bill hated the teacher and spent the periods writing and doodling. He fussed over Bill until the redhead was almost laughing hysterically. He made the shrewdest observation in the group besides Stan’s. He was Eddie Kaspbrak.

And now he was ignoring his own best friend.

“It’s juh-huh-hust so w-w-weird,” Bill said, his voice strained and absently confused. “He hasn’t tuh-t-talked to me in wuh-w-weeks.” He tossed the baseball he was holding up into the air behind him once, catching it in his mitt behind his back before tossing it right into the waiting Mike’s glove. The ball made a satisfying swish and thunk as it landed, and Mike threw it up above his head, back up to catch it before going back to toe the line.

“I dunno, man, he seems pretty normal to me, just a little sad.” Mike raised an eyebrow. He was used to his friends over-hyping their drama with each other, but Bill never did that, and the furrow of his brow really seemed sincere. “Maybe just let him come to you?”

Bill frowned deeper, the advice getting deeper under his skin every time it was given to him, and he caught the ball again, putting his mitt more forward than it usually would be so he’d feel the impact more, before throwing it back twice as hard as he’d caught it. “I’ve truh-truh-tr-t-truh- F-F-F-FUCK!” Bill threw the ball down, and he took his mitt off as well, dropping it down next to the ball. He closed his eyes, fingers running to cover his ears and grasping in his hair as he took deep breaths and tried to compose himself. Mike simply watched, waiting for his friend to collect himself. Bill was quick and prone to anger, but it never lasted longer than a few minutes. Bill thought of how you say it in French- /en essayant/- and he tried again.

“I’ve truh-tried that f-for the last few weeks,” Bill explained. “Hasn’t w-wuh-worked.” He threw the ball again, this time a high arc, and Mike caught it expertly, eyes still on Bill. They only flicked to the ball for a moment. The redhead fixed his hair again, pushing it to the side, and his expression was almost pained. “H-he ignores m-muh-me in cuh-lass, Mike. W-w-we sit next t-to eachother, and h-he ign-nores me.”

Bill’s voice was teetering on the edge of breaking, and Mike made a noise of understanding before he walked over to Bill and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, Bill, it’s okay, you know?” Mike said reassuringly. “He can’t do it forever, he loves you, man. He’ll get over it soon. He looks so sad nowadays when he hang out.” Mike raised an eyebrow as if he expected an epiphany..

Bill raised an eyebrow right back, not understanding what he was supposed to think of Mike’s vague statement. “Uh huh...”

“Ever since, well, I’d say two or three weeks ago,” Mike hinted again, smiling hopefully.

The meaning dawned on Bill all at once, and he playfully pushed Mike off. “Shuh-shut up,” Bill grumbled, “ih-it’s not to d-d-do with me, idiot.”

“Bill, are you /kidding/? Mike said incredulously. “Eddie looked at you like you were the fucking stars in the sky! He hung off of every word you said! He never did anything without you! I mean, he loved you, man, really /loved/ you!”

The other teen tried to hide his dopey grin behind his hand, beginning to pick up their equipment (Mike was a substitute catcher on the Derry High baseball team when he was free from football, so they’d been practicing catching pitches and stopping people from coming home) and shielding his face behind his burning red curls. “D-does not,” he said softly, but the softness didn’t seem like it was from shyness; rather, it seemed to come from a place of a flustered teenager in love with a voice thick and small from love and quiet thoughts. “I doubt h-he even luh-l-looked at me half the time.”

He knew Eddie did, though, he looked two halves of the time, and maybe that was why he was so sad that Eddie was gone. There was no one to stare and clap for and admire Bill. Was that conceited? To want someone there to encourage you? Of course Bill loved Eddie too- he loved everything about the blond boy. But the feeling of having a constant presence there with him was so comforting, he missed it more than anything.

Mike rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot, Bill,” he said, smiling a smile that flashed his brilliant white teeth, before slinging an arm around the tall, nervous, lovesick Bill Denbrough and starting to walk towards the street. They walked home together in the dying light.

On that same night, Eddie Kaspbrak awoke with fleeting feeling of warmth and dizziness in his head. He didn’t gasp, didn’t sit up- he only snapped open his eyes and felt the reality of where he was sink in as the barely-memorable dream faded away. Gasping and sitting up was for movie actresses, not teenage boys with breathing issues. God only knows how that might cramp his lungs, sitting up so fast like that.

He looked over at the clock- 3:40. Of course. Why would Eddie wake up from a dream at a normal person time?

He tried not to focus on that, though, and he got up to brush his teeth, despite knowing it would simply wake him up further. The cold water, the mint taste, the feeling of a substance in his mouth that felt kind of like it might be food, he knew it’d all wake him up, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

But, upon getting back into bed, he started to realize he wouldn’t have gotten back to sleep anyways.

Okay, so maybe he’d had a dream about Bill.

A not-so-platonic dream about Bill.

A kissing-touching-moaning-sinning dream about Bill.

He put his hands over his eyes, and he sighed. He’d been so good- he hadn’t let Bill distract him from his Path. He hadn’t talked to Bill in weeks, even, not about anything important, anyways. He didn’t hang out with him, think about him, do /anything/ with Bill… So why had this even happened?

Eddie let himself fall onto his back, hands still over his eyes, and let out another sigh. He was still mortified, disappointed, and angry with himself, but when he thought about the dream his stomach did this thing where it sank and felt like it was dissolving in a burst of heat that seemed hot enough to be causing the flare in Eddie’s cheeks.

‘Forget it already,’ Eddie was telling himself. ‘You’ve gotten this far, it’ll get easier if you just push through.’

Eddie’s hand slid down the length of his cheek and he cupped his own face, how Bill had in that terrible

(wonderful)

dream. He tried to think of something else, anything else, but he couldn’t. Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and let out a breath. “Just once,” he mumbled into the pitch black of his bedroom. “I’ll forget it tomorrow.”

Eddie began racking his brain for every last detail of the dream, almost desperately. He didn’t remember where he and Bill were, but they were sitting on a couch, or maybe it was a bed; it didn’t matter.

Bill had been looking at Eddie. Not in the normal, friendly way, either. His intentions were so obvious, as Eddie reflected, but in the dream he’d been so nervous he hadn’t been able to decipher what that look meant.

He remembered Bill putting his hand on Eddie’s thigh as they spoke and that they had gotten dangerously close. They’d been in similar situations in real life before (although nowhere to this extent), but instead of Eddie panicking and moving away from Bill, he stayed. Even when Bill leaned forward and crashed their lips together, Eddie didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

Eddie was waiting for Bill to pull away quickly, maybe yell at Eddie for being such a freak and letting him do that, but Bill didn’t pull away. He only kissed harder and moved closer to Eddie, so that Eddie was leaning so far back he was close to falling. Eddie felt Bill’s tongue slip into his mouth and gasped. Bill seemed to take Eddie’s opened mouth as an opportunity to kiss him more, while Eddie opened and closed his mouth clumsily around Bill’s lips. Eddie shivered when he remembered this, starting to trace his lips with his knuckle.

Bill had finally pulled away, smiling. “Wha-Wh-What’s wrong E-Eh-Eddie?” he teased, and buried his hand in Eddie’s curls. Eddie whined, eyes wide and fearful. He had no idea what was going on or what had gotten into Bill, but…

“Do y-yuh-you like ih-it?” Bill continued. Eddie nodded and squirmed a little, still in the position where he was nearly falling.

“S-Sure, Big Bill,” he said dumbly. “Could you, um, move a little, I’m—“ Bill moved quickly and pushed Eddie down onto his back fully. He put his hands on Eddie’s hips, and Eddie squirmed again. “I didn’t… I meant…” Eddie stammered. He gazed up at Bill and knew his face had to be red, he could feel himself burning up. The way Bill was looking at him and touching him and being on top of him like that was something so new, and it felt so good, even though it was so wrong.

Eddie turned his head to the side in embarrassment, but Bill remained undeterred. Instead, he started kissing up Eddie’s neck and throat, his hands making slow circles in Eddie’s hips as he did so. Eddie gasped again and reached for Bill, clawing down his back and making a small, drawn out noise.

“Ohh…” he breathed. “Oh, Bill.” Bill went back up to Eddie’s lips and started kissing him heavily again. Eddie froze up, still stiff and clumsy in his movements, but Bill didn’t seem to mind. Bill was doing most of the work, anyway.

Bill sucked gently on Eddie’s lip as he pulled away. “I like th-th-th-those n-nuh-oises.”

“What noises, Bi—mmmn…” Eddie’s speech tumbled to a halt when Bill started feverishly kissing Eddie’s neck again. He couldn’t think very well, his mind was so fuzzy. He just clutched Bill for dear life as he tried to keep himself under control.

“I thuh-th-think you nuh-know,” Bill said teasingly. His hands moved slowly, painfully slowly, from Eddie’s chest to his waist, and he smiled into Eddie’s neck as he felt the smaller boy sigh and his hips stutter. He took the action even farther, and he used the opportunity to slide his hands down to the fly of Eddie’s pants.

Eddie’s eyes suddenly snapped shut, and he felt his mind go blank. He couldn’t even speak- he just let himself keen up into Bill’s waiting hands. Eddie let out a whine, letting Bill fidget with his zipper. The tiniest bit of friction that came from that was enough to force Eddie to bite his lip.

Eddie looked up into Bill’s eager face before looking back down at where Bill’s hand was. With full force he realized what Bill—both of them—were doing. He made a half-hearted attempt at a protest, reaching for Bill’s hand, but he didn’t push it away. He couldn’t bring himself to. God, he really did want this so bad.

“D-do you want me t-t-to go fuh-farther?” This dream-version of Bill asked, his big blue eyes turned to Eddie’s green ones as he fiddled with Eddie’s fly. Eddie nodded breathlessly, practically pulling Bill’s hand to his waistband, and he felt his heart quicken at the thought of Bill touching him where no one, not even Eddie himself, had touched him before.

“Yes, please,” Eddie said, and he felt himself start to float away from what was happening in this dream. “I love you, Bill,” he continued desperately. He was begging this dream not to end, even as his entire body and mind was screaming it him to stop. Only the Leper was encouraging him on.

As quickly as he remembered the dream, Eddie was brought back to reality. He’d drifted off as he remembered it, and when he glanced at the clock, it was around 5. He could hear the few over-achieving birds chirping outside the window, but in the dark, March morning, they were the only sound. Eddie was alone with the birds Stan would bring Eddie to watch later and his own uneven breathing.

Absentmindedly, he touched his cheek; his fingers were freezing, but his cheeks were burning. And wet. The silent tears he’d been crying- crying over his own sin, his own helplessness against the voices inside of him, his awful weakness to everything and everyone- turned into hitching silent sobs, and he buried his face in his pillow. ‘Maybe I’d asphyxiate if I do it long enough’, he thought dimly. ‘I’ll have an asthma attack and I can just hold my face against the pillow and it will all be over. Mom would be so mad.’ That last thought was with satisfaction. How he hated his mother for making him weak, making him so frail and vulnerable and scared of the world. He’d love to show her he had control over his life; when it ended or went on, that would be the greatest prize to control.

‘But Eddie,’ said another voice. ‘God wants you at His own time. Would you really take yourself before He takes you? Isn’t that selfish?’

Eddie turned that thought over in his mind as he lay there, in his too-comfy bed in his too-warm house with his too-stuffed pillow pressing into his mouth. Maybe God did want him to wait- offing yourself was a sin, wasn’t it?- but his mind had been wrong before. And maybe God was giving him a sign- maybe it was his time. And it’s not like he was disfiguring himself or anything. He’d do it cleanly, if he did it at all, wouldn't he? No messy slitting his wrists or shooting himself in the head business. Just quick and fast and clean, so he could be buried and look nice in his sunday suit one more time.

‘And anyway’, Eddie thought back, ‘it’s not selfish, really. No one wants me here. I don’t even want me here. Richie and Stan are best friends, and Beverly and Ben, and Bill and Mike- there’s no room for me, and no one else wants me. Why stay?’

‘Oh, but Bill wants you, Eddie.’ A voice from the very back of Eddie’s head purred itself back into the foreground. ‘Bill wants you everywhere. In his mouth, on his chest, in his throat- everywhere. He wants you on his cock, too, you know it. Give him what he wants, Eddie, it might be your only chance to do that for someone.’

That was the last straw. Large, hiccuping, snot-filled sobs started as Eddie’s shivering, small body sunk lower and lower into the mattress. He was so fucking weak, he didn’t even have his mind to himself. He had to share it like rental space with anyone who wanted to be there, it was ridiculous. It was awful. He wished he could die just so this would all stop.

The crying petered out as the sun came up, until the only remnants of it were in his puffy red eyes and his damp shirt. He got up, switching the unneeded alarm off on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth for the second time that day.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, he promised himself something. His eyes were solemn and dark as he looked himself in the eyes over the rim of his sink.

The leper would not win, no matter what.

The leper wouldn’t win.

Hopefully, Eddie Kaspbrak knew what he was getting into when he made a promise.

#stanny.txt #it #kaspbrough #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #it fanfiction #dearest (though you're the nearest to my heart)#usersalem

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