#Mr Uris is homophobic sorry

[anellope]

What about R + E with Eddie for the alphabet prompts? 1. I'm a sap 2. I think the two prompts fit togheter Grazie in anticipo, nel caso❤️🍒

Ahhh scusa il ritardo, ho avuto un periodo di blocco assurdo e ne sto uscendo a fatica, spero per lo meno che la storia ti piaccia!!

I’m sorry it's a little long, the fucking “more under the cut” doesn't work this lovely night.

''Richard Tozier, I told you to turn down the music!"

"Can't be done, Eds, they are The Apostles! Not listening to them on full volume is an act against nature!"

"You are the act against nature!"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

Stan couldn't stand it anymore and finally turned off the radio, dropping silence between the two quarrels.

"I drive, I decide the music." he stated, still looking at the road "And my favorite song is composed of 7 minutes of absolute silence. So both of you shut the fuck up."

Richie let himself fell down into his seat, bittered “Only Queen can have a 7 minute long song and look cool."

"Plus the car is not yours, it's your father's old one, and he lent it to you ‘cause Bev is the only female in the group and he’s happy we still wanna see her even if she lives 1 hour distant from us." Eddie commented from the back seat, lacing his arms to his chest.

"Mr. Uris fears I can attack you The Homo." Richie muttered, frowning, bringing his arms behind his head. Eddie, who wasn't out to the city against his own will like him, laid a hand on his shoulder, comforting and making him smile sweetly.

"Fucking whatever, guys. The 7 minutes haven't passed yet." Stan snorted, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road and not lift them to the sky.

"These are the worst 7 minutes in heaven of histo-" the raven boy began to say when the car stopped abruptly.

"Oh Jesus Fucking Christ." Stan commented, his eyes wide with terror.

"Can you tell that, being Jewish?"

"Beep beep, Richie!"

"Why, I did everything right!" Stan complained, putting his hands in his hair. He tried to start it again by turning the keys, but the car, after a few terrifying mumbles, stopped again.

"Is this smell of burning?" Richie asked, looking at Eddie for confirmation, who in fact advised the other not to try again before he broke the car. Stan was about to scream. 

"I'm screwed, dead, my father will chop me when we get back. IF we come back since the fucking car doesn't start and we're stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere!"

Then, after some last scary sounds, Stan suddenly straightened up, observing Richie in the face as if awakened.

"Your father took you on a fast course, didn't he? One of those father and son things, right? "

Richie shrugged "Dude, I wasn't even paying attention most of the time, and this car is older than Eddie’s mom! I don't even know where the engine is!" He said, denying with his head.

"In the hood, retard." Eddie commented before Richie threw him an angry slap on his head, Eddie did the same.

Stan, on the other hand, was desperate "Please, try to take a look, you're the only one here who has a minimum of experience, please Rich..."

Richie looked at him for a few seconds, then sighed "I'll try, dude, but really, I wouldn't want to mess that thing more, I know how your father is." And, without another word, he opened the door, lifting the hood of the car, closely followed by Stan, who looked more and more like a little lost dog. Eddie instead headed for the trunk.

"Well?" Asked the Jew, hopefully.

"Well..." Richie commented, observing what was in front of him "The smell of burning comes from here... and... Uhm... I am pretty sure that this is the engine."

“So?“ he tried again, Richie looked at him with a silly smile “So we’re screwed.”

After a moment of silence, Stan put his hand to his face "I'm dead meat."

"It’s the radiator." Eddie said, approaching them and rummaging in his backpack.

"What?" Richie asked, watching the other boy open his canteen and approach the hood of the car.

Under the bewildered eyes of both of them, Eddie poured half of the canteen into one of the many tubes, Stan squeaked scared, leaping to stop him "Eddie what are you doing!?" 

Eddie looked at him in confusion "It's an old car. Sometimes old cars need water in the radiator and I know this is the case for the burning smell that it started to make when you started the engine again.” He finished, closing his canteen and crouching on the ground for put it back in his backpack.

Then he raised his nose to the other two, standing up to watch him "Well? Someone with a driver's license wants to go and turn it on or not?”

Stan ran towards the steering wheel as fast as he could, turning the keys and rejoicing when he saw that the car was starting “Thanks fuck!"

"Dude!" Richie exploded, with an adoring expression on his face, taking him by the shoulders “My boyfriend is a fucking mechanic! So good, so good!” He sang, leaving him a quick kiss on the cheek; Eddie smiled victorious, blushing just for the compliments he received.

"But how did you know?" Stan asked him, a broad smile on his face making it bright. Eddie shrugged his shoulders, still smiling proudly, sitting down and noting that Richie had followed him instead of going in the front like before "I like cars, I'm also subscribed to a magazine, but I get it from Bill, so my mom doesn't find out.”

Richie threw himself on him again, hugging him like a teddy bear and continuing to fill him with compliments while the two friends talked.

"A skilled mechanic, so smart!"

"He kicked my ass, he knows how to fix cars!"

"Even I didn't see that coming, luckily you were with us, dude." Stan commented, receiving a further embarrassed and proud smile in response.

"You’re so cool, Edieeeee"

"Beep beep, lovebird!"

"You're just jealous of my great, cute boyfriend, Stan the man!"

"I fucking hate you both, guys," Eddie commented, lovingly stroking Richie's hair.

Permataglist: @tinyarmedtrex @madi-personal @kitty-cat791 @that-weird-girls-blog @purplepoisonedgem

(ask if you want to be added!)

[xandertheundead]

93 & 78 for Stanlon?

For you ma, babe! “You’re more than that.” & “You’re worth it.”

Mike refused to cry.

He couldn’t cry right now. 

Not when it was Stan’s locker that was destroyed by hurtful words and slurs scrawled in awful red paint. The metal was dented, obviously having been kicked repeatedly while something foul smelling dripped out of the bottom of the locker and both boys were too worried about what it was to open it. Mike swallowed heavily, reaching out to touch the lock, knowing Stan’s combination by heart before he felt Stan’s hand on his, stopping him.

“Were you hit?”

Stan’s voice was soft, almost a whisper and Mike bit his lip softly before nodding and he felt Stan go tense beside him.

“They got my gym locker.”

“Those fuckers.”

They hadn’t meant for their relationship to go public, it had all been an accident how it had gone down. Someone had taken a picture and they had been in the background, Mike leaning over to kiss Stan’s cheek, and that was all it took once it was uploaded to Instagram. 

Stanley Uris and Mike Hanlon were now not only the schools resident Jewish and Black kids.

Now they were gay too, even though neither of them idetified as it.

“I’m so sorry, Stan.” Mike started, hating how his voice broke a little. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t know anyone was taking pictures. I should have just waited till-”

He stopped when he felt Stan grab his hand, starting to tug him towards the bathroom even though the few kids who were in the hallway shot them unpleasant looks. Stan left Mike over by the sinks, moving into one of the stalls to grab some tissue paper and handed Mike a large pile. Mike took them with a quiet thank you, wiping at his eyes which to his dismay had actually started to leak a little. When he was finished cleaning up, he glanced at Stan who seemed to be waiting until he was done to say something.

“Stan?”

“I don’t ever want you to be sorry.”

Mike frowned a little, then glanced down at the floor when he realized what Stan was talking about. “But it’s my fault.”

“It’s your fault for kissing your boyfriend on the fucking cheek? No. I don’t ever want you to be sorry for showing me you care.” Stan stood a little taller as he continued to speak, his normally level toned voice raising a bit in volume and Mike could tell he was mad by the way his face was getting red. “This small town can go suck Richie’s dick because I’m not going to let go of you just because of a bunch of racist homophobes.”

“Richie’s dick?”

Stan gave a jerky shrug. “His is grosser, they don’t get to touch mine.”

That actually startled a laugh out of Mike, and he loved the small satisfied smile that made it’s way onto Stan’s face at the sound. Stan moved in closer, his green eyes watching Mike’s expression before he leaned in to place the softest kiss against Mike’s lips, giving a hum before resting their foreheads together.  

“You’re not just my boyfriend, Mike.” He muttered quietly, just loud enough that Mike could hear him. “You’re more than that. You’re my friend, my secret keeper, and the only one who understands what it’s like to be on the outside. You are so much to me and fuck anyone who tries to mess with that. They could paint my locker with every slur in the book and I wouldn’t care…because you’re worth it.”

Stan and Mike weren’t in any of their classes for the rest of the day, which their parents were sure informed of along with the things that had been done to their stuff. But none of that mattered as both boys went to get sandwiches to go from the nearby deli and walked along the river happily, hand in hand.

No one was going to stop them from loving each other.

@tinyarmedtrex @constantreaderfool @queen-sock @mrs-vh @oldguybones @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @geckolover001 @inthebreadbinwrites @yikesitsrylee @captainbartholomew @thorn-harvester-ven @moonlightrichie @madi-personal @nancynwheeler @edstozler @fuzzylogik @pink-psychic @s-s-georgie @reddieforlove

[sunshinewalters]

(this was getting too long for a notes app irl sorry! i’m just used to writing longer stuff and i got into it!)

Will parked his bike in his normal spot in the Wheeler’s driveway. He was old enough to drive but being behind a wheel was scary and his mom didn’t really have time to teach him so, he kept his bike.

He walked to the door and knocked. Karen Wheeler opened the front door, surprised to see Will. She was expecting one of Richie’s friends, which she hadn’t even been formally introduced too. Ted met them, because Richie knew he wouldn’t care but that his parents would need them to have met one of his parents.

“Mike’s spending the weekend at Jane’s. I figured he would have told you, Will.” She told him. “He did, I’m here to see Richie, if that’s okay.” Will informed her and Karen became even more confused. Dustin was the only one of Mike’s friends she knew hung around Richie.

“Oh. Well, he’s down in the basement but I think his friends are with him.” She told the boy who nodded. “Thanks, Mrs Wheeler!” He said, walking past her and made a b-line down to the basement.

“Willy!” Richie greeted, getting up from his spot on the couch next to a boy with extremely curly brown hair, it reminded him of Dustin’s hair.

“This is him?” A girl with short, bright red hair asked. “This is the one and only Will.” Richie said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Will laughed in response as another boy walked out of the bathroom.

This boy was shorter than him, had black hair, and was wearing..’holy shit, is that a fanny pack?’ ran through Will’s head. “Who’s this?” The boy asked, sitting on an air mattress in the corner, next to a heavier boy who was reading a poetry book.

“Richie’s boyfriend.” A boy sitting next to the curly headed boy teased. “No, Eddie-spaghetti is right there.” Richie said with a laugh. “Don’t call me that!” ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ groaned, but Will knew he was amused by the name.

“Willy, let me introduce you to The Losers Club.” Richie told him. “Just because that’s the group chat name doesn’t mean we’re called that.” A dark-skinned boy that Will hadn’t noticed yet, because he had been quiet, spoke.

“Let him have his fun, Mike.” The heavier boy spoke. “Yeah, homeschool, let me have my fun.” Richie spoke with another laugh. “The guy who hates that we have a squad name, is Mike Hanlon, I call him Homeschool so it isn’t too confusing.” Richie said, pointing to the boy he was just speaking to.

“That’s Ben Hanscom,” Richie pointed to the boy who was reading, and he waved in response. Will waved back with a smile. “The boy sitting next to him is Eddie Kaspbrak, or Eds.” Richie said and the red haired girl piped in. “Or Eddie Spaghetti!” The curly haired boy piped up too, “Don’t forget Wheezy!”

“Those too. Anyways, the ginger is my best female friend in the world, Bev Marsh.” Richie said, and she pretending to curtsy from the spot where she was sitting on the couch. “The Jew is Stan ‘The Man’ Uris, and his boyfriend is the boy next to him, Bill Denbrough.” Will remembers Richie bringing them up.

“And, that’s everyone!” Richie smiled at Will, his arm still around Will’s shoulder. “God, now Richie has a new boyfriend to add to his weird love triangle.” Bev said and Richie flipped her off. “What do you mean?” Will asked, he hadn’t gotten used to their friend group but was surprised at what they were saying.

Max made a joke about Dustin and Lucas dating once and the two didn’t look each other in the eye for a week afterwords. They weren’t homophobic, and would accept Will if he had the balls to come out but, still. This was new territory for Will.

“He has this weird thing with Stan and Eddie.” Ben spoke up from his book. “Shut up, Ben.” Eddie and Stan spoke in unison while Richie its laughed. “Benny’s just jealous because he wants a piece of Tozier-pie too.”

“Never say that again.” Wil teased with a push. “What? Like you don’t want this.” Richie guestured to himself, jokingly. “I’d sooner make out with a grizzly that hasn’t eaten in four months than with you, Tozier.” Will laughed and Richie faked offense.

“Willy-boy! I can’t believe you’d say that!” Richie punched him in the arm, softly. Will pretended as if Richie had hurt him, though. “Oh my god! Ah! You’ve broken my arm! It’ll never be the same!” Will exclaimed, holding his arm where Richie touched him.

“He’s hurt.” El told her boyfriend, sitting in her room as the TV played static. “What’s happening?” Mike asked, Will wasn’t answering his phone, (It had died on the way to the Wheeler-Tozier residence and he hadn’t noticed.) So El suggested they check on him.

“Oh god, the pain!’ He says. ‘Don’t forget me, R, I always loved you!’ He says.” El repeated what she heard Will saying. “What?! Is he dying or something?!” It’s official, Mike was freaking. “I broke your arm, Willy’ Someone says.” El couldn’t decipher if it was a boy or a girl.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know, Mike.”

“Does he seem better?”

“He seems fine now. He’s laughing, Mike. I think he was joking.”

“Okay. Who’s R?”

4 // 5 // 6

masterpost

[onlyvirginsarc]

LUX’S THOUGHTS ON IT CHAPTER 2. 

* heavy spoilers, lots of annoyance. don’t read if you don’t want the spoilers. 

THE BAD: 

while i’m all for the exploration of sexuality within characters, i’d personally just like to state from my own understanding of not only the novel but the miniseries and the 20+ times (literally) that I’ve seen chapter 1 -  the blatant fanservice for r*ddie shippers was very forced and uncomfortable. i know damn well that people are going to look into every action of richie’s in part too and read into it as something more than what it truly is.   with the death of eddie, naturally richie feels grief. richie tozier cares so deeply for each of his friends despite his comedic remarks and attitude, he truly loves his friends to death. allowing richie to feel that grief and cry isn’t a sign that he’s in love with eddie - it’s a moment that finally allows richie to be vulnerable and express emotion in a world / reality that often shames men for having feelings. so no. i’m sorry to you reddie shippers. richie is not gay and certainly is not in love with eddie. the scene in the arcade during the flashback with richie and bowers’ cousin, is meant to be a nudge towards richie’s feelings for boys - i don’t feel that at all. he’s a teenage boy in an arcade, playing a game that he loves and naturally wants to play another round with someone. 

pennywise vc: i know you’re dirty little secret, richie.   yup. you read that. correct. the insinuation that being gay is something to be ashamed of or something to be considered dirty. mind you, like i said above - i personally don’t consider richie to be gay but at the very least, the suggestion towards homophobic things like that isn’t cool and didn’t sit well with me. especially since the dude sitting behind me said “ew disgusting” at the adrian mellon kiss scene and i turned around and told him to fuck off. 

i got annoyed because the blood oath was a huge deal in the book and first movie and the theme of their bond through this ordeal and growing together and then when they come back as adults in the film, it seems like they don’t give a fuck, thus building into the mentality of trying to portray mike as a madman. 

the graphics and CGI effects surrounding Mrs Kersh and even the weird shit they did to Richie was just...a mess. Mrs. Saggy Troll Tit Kersh wasn’t even scary so much as it was comical. 

the ritual of chüd was a whole ass fucking mess. the scenes with the totems seemed to drag on forever. also the fact that the losers simply verbally attacked pennywise to the size of a doll to defeat it was literally comical because it holds no sense or value to me. if you’ve read the book you’d see why. 

hollywood continues to be racist and shitty by stereotyping and portraying mike hanlon as a madman and also stating that his parents were crackheads. so that entire thing can get thrown out the window because i was not having it. 

the entire thing felt very jumbled and all over the place. felt so obvious to me that perhaps the screenwriters didn’t bother to read the book or source materials at all. 

why was eddie such an asshole this time? as a child at least. he seemed so out of character and was doing things that really didn’t feel like they fit him entirely. it nearly felt as if richie and eddie swapped roles. 

why the hell was bill denbrough constantly yelling at children? that was a time. 

the implication that richie tozier never wrote his own jokes and the fact that they only had him portrayed as a stand up comedian annoyed me too because richie 100% writes his own material. no kid that funny grows up and suddenly sucks at being comical. also the erasure of richie’s radio / dj career is a piss off because yet again, we’re amounting him to more than oneliners and comedic remarks. don’t get me wrong - bill hader did a great job with richie and what material he was given but again, richie holds more depth than the stand up comedian routine. 

the entire movie read like a fucking anti-bullying campaign. uwu penn vc: people make fun of me for how i look.  flash forward to the losers calling him clown repeatedly. 

they did a whole scene on bill saying that he was faking being sick and just didn’t want to hangout with georgie. and on one hand like i can understand the play on his guilt but in the book - bill was actually sick so i’m conflicted on my feelings regarding that. 

a whole lot more that i’m probably forgetting. 

gary dauberman is a fucking terrible screenwriter. i hate him with a passion and he destroyed this film. 

pennywise was shrunk down to nothing but a joke essentially which is a piss off for such an eater of worlds. 

THE GOOD:

the stan uris suicide scene was handled tastefully - as tastefully as a suicide scene could be. it wasn’t overly graphic and the flashback bits during it were actually very telling and i appreciated them. 

the losers clubhouse flashback scene with stan’s shower caps was actually one of my favourite scenes. why? it was just so pure. minus eddie’s idiot behaviour. i just enjoyed stan’s bit. 

the ending of the film with stan’s letter to the losers was also one of my favourites. 

richie did provide some more good zingers which was cool. 

stan’s bar mitzvah speech was good, i would have liked to see some bits added to it from the deleted scene of course but (: 

the casting was decent. 

the altered reality bit was kinda neat. 

IN SUMMARY: 

i don’t take anything from this film as full canon content nor will it heavily influence any part of my portrayal. i’m going to update and restructure my rules once again regarding it. if you haven’t actually bothered to read the book then a lot of these things would be overlooked but frankly i’m just annoyed and i wasn’t a fan. 

[thegreatwhiteferret]

I Can’t Help Myself

Summary: Vic had died a little inside when Mrs. Banks had said his name after Tozier’s. It was no secret that the Losers Club had always been the bane of Henry’s existence. That meant that Vic was supposed to hate them too, and after taking beatings every time the Losers did something to thwart Henry, Vic had an overall discontempt for them. Richie Tozier more so than the others, for reasons that Vic never really let himself explore.

Pairing: Victor Criss/Richie Tozier

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Alright, cards on the table, Vic Criss does not get enough love. And yes, I know that he is a bully and part of the Bower’s Gang, but he is a wonderful character to play with and expand upon. This fic was requested by an Anon after I begged for something that would allow me to write a Vic Fic. I am so sorry that it took me so long, I got swamped with requests and lost some inspiration, but I am busting my ass to get it back. I hope that y’all like this and GIVE VIC CRISS A FUCKING CHANCE. (Also I really fucking love writing Richie Tozier, God damn.) 💖💖💖

NSFW Under the Cut...

“We will be having an exam on Antiderivative and Indefinite integrals next Tuesday. I will be assigning you study partners, now to keep you accountable, I will also be passing out a log that you need to both sign and you both will also be responsible for handing in all of your notes. That means that I will know if you haven’t met up with your partner.” Mrs. Banks instructed from the front of the room, she was met with the collective groans of sixteen high school seniors. She chuckled slightly at their pain. “I know, I know, I am just the absolute worst. This is what you get for taking AP Calculus.” She moved towards her desk and pulled out a list of names. Richie raised his hand and she nodded at him to go ahead.

“Mrs. Banks, is there a minimum amount of time that we have to spend with our study partner?” He asked, pushing his thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Contrary to popular belief, Richie was all business when it came to his actual classes. He and the rest of the Losers had been talking about all going to college in Boston for years, and Richie had his heart set on M.I.T.. Applications were due in a few weeks and he was not about to do anything to mess his chances up.

“Well Mr. Tozier, I would say that a good minimum to set would be two hours, because I know that you all have work for your other classes, but in all honesty, I think you should work with your partner until both of you are completely confident with your understanding. Who knows? You might enjoy your study partner and choose to work with them for the rest of the year.”

Richie nodded in understanding, he looked around the room to see who he might possibly end up with. His eyes settled on his best friend Stan in the desk next to him.

“Keep looking, Richie, you know there is no way she is going to partner us up together. Every teacher in this school knows that we have been friends since we were toddlers. They want variety in the pairings.” Stan muttered, without even looking up from his notes.

“Well that is just...homophobic.” Richie settled on and Stan shot him a glare that told him to cut the bullshit. Richie rolled his eyes and began looking around the room again. He was a little bummed when he first found out that he and Stan were the only ones out of the Losers who were admitted into the class, but he wasn’t completely shocked. Bill exceeded in English, Mike and Ben in History, Bev was all over art, and Eddie was taking all of the extra science classes that he could to prepare for pre-med.

As he looked around the room he was striked by the fact that although he had known all of these people since kindergarten, he didn’t really know any of them. He might be able to pull their names out of his ass, but anything more than that would be impossible. His eyes settled on a figure slumped over his desk in the back of the room, a shock of blonde hair falling into his eyes as he read through his notes. It was Vic Criss. Richie had been shocked to find out how intelligent he was, once the Bowers gang broke up a few years prior and Vic actually began to apply himself. No longer afraid of what Henry and Patrick would do to him if they found out that he was actually smart.

Then Patrick had been sent to a juvenile detention center somewhere in Kansas or another bum fuck state like that, a facility that could control his mental illness and prevent him from harming any other living thing. That had happened when Richie was a freshman. Henry had still tried to terrorize people, but without the resident psychopath, his threats didn’t seem so harsh. Instead of asserting his dominance over the entire student body, he took it out on his much smaller and weaker boyfriend.

Richie didn’t know the full story of what happened. He had heard rumors that Belch had been the one that saved Vic’s life, carried him to the hospital himself to receive help one Wednesday night in late fall when Vic and Richie were sophomores, but no one ever knew for sure. All anyone knew for sure was that when Vic had returned to school the following Monday, he looked like a train had hit him. His already pale skin was covered in painful looking bruises. He yelped everytime he sat down or moved too suddenly.

Belch became his bodyguard and escorted him through the halls, making sure no one touched him. Henry being the lovely human that he was blew up one day a week or so later, calling Vic a pathetic little slut who was too much of a sissy to take it like a man in front of everyone at lunch. Vic had run off in tears as Belch and Henry started swinging at each other. Eddie had been the one to follow Vic into the boys bathroom and held him as he cried, reassuring him that everything would be okay.

Richie wasn’t supposed to know about that. At least, he figured that Vic would probably prefer if no one ever knew. Eddie had told Richie in confidence, needing to get it off the chest, and Richie promised to never mention it again. He wouldn’t of course, Richie knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“Okay, then.” Richie was pulled out of his thoughts when Mrs. Banks cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. She had found the appropriate list for the class, and Richie could vaguely see that there were two columns on the paper. “Let’s see...Mr. Uris, you will be working with Miss Bloom…” Stan groaned slightly, Pattie had had a crush on him for the last year and a half and refused to accept that he was in love and in a relationship with Mike. A few more names were read off the list, and then he finally heard his own. “And Mr. Tozier, your partner will be Mr. Criss. You have the rest of class to set a schedule to meet up. I’ll be here to answer any questions you have.”

Richie’s eyes drifted to the back of the classroom again and his eyes automatically found Vic’s. He tried to send him a polite grin, but Vic just nodded towards him a solemn look on his face, and dropped his eyes down to his notebook again.

Richie sighed, he had no idea how this was going to work out.

-

Vic tapped his pencil gently against the table in the library where he was sitting, waiting for Richie. Vic had died a little inside when Mrs. Banks had said his name after Tozier’s. It was no secret that the Losers Club had always been the bane of Henry’s existence. That meant that Vic was supposed to hate them too, and after taking beatings every time the Losers did something to thwart Henry, Vic had an overall discontempt for them. Richie Tozier more so than the others, for reasons that Vic never really let himself explore.

He was about to just give up on Richie ever arriving, he was twenty three minutes late already, but then there was a crash at the front of the library and suddenly a sprinting figure with black curls and an outrageously loud printed shirt was coming in his direction and sliding into the seat across from him.

“Shit...hi! Sorry I’m late.” Richie apologized, slightly gasping for breath. Vic shot him an unimpressed look and opened his binder, trying to locate the specific notes he needed. Richie eyed him as he did this. “You know that you’re going to have to talk to me right? For this whole study buddies thing to work, it’s going to involve talking.”

“I’m aware, Tozier. But thank you so much for checking in and making sure that I did. I appreciate it.” Vic replied cooley, his voice void of any emotion. It made Richie want to squirm in his seat, he didn’t like it one bit. Richie groaned, they needed to clear the air.

“Alright, Criss. Let’s get it over with, cards on the table. Why do you hate me so much?” Richie asked point blank, Vic lifted his eyes from his papers and stared at Richie for a moment, he groaned when he realized that Richie didn’t find his actions intimidating.

“I don’t. I don’t hate you.” Vic mumbled, it was so low that Richie had to strain to hear him. He shot Vic another pointed look. “Jesus Christ, what do you want me to say, Tozier? You know how it was. Our groups didn’t get along. It’s as easy as that. I don’t hate you, I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t hate you.”

“Well then…” Richie started, a wicked smirk crossing his face. “We will just have to change that, won’t we?” He let out a low chuckle, and Vic knew he was in for it. He wasn’t going to escape these study sessions unscathed.

-

The thing is, that when Richie sets his mind to something, he gets it done. It’s a fact that infuriated the other Losers at times. Last year when he had heard about the Women’s March in D.C. he decided that Bev had to be there to experience it for herself. Everyone shook the idea off at first, it was too expensive, too far, but Richie believed in himself and sure enough, he and Bev walked the streets of the capital wearing their pink pussy hats.

Vic was no different for him, he was determined to make the boy either like or hate him, preferably like. He couldn’t stand the neutrality of being in between.

The thing that was different for him was how surprised he was that he enjoyed Vic’s company so much. Vic was really intelligent, but in the way that he still had to work hard for his grades, like Stan did. Richie had always been able to walk in completely unprepared for an exam, and still pull a high grade.

Vic was also surprisingly funny, he didn’t even have to try. Richie really enjoyed finding that out about him, sharing hushed laughs in the library. They met after school every single day, long after the first test had come and gone. He really enjoyed their study sessions, although they rarely got much studying done. Vic was becoming a really good friend.

-

Vic wasn’t sure when exactly it happened. Somewhere in between mathematical formulas and stupid jokes, he fell for Richie Tozier.

He resisted for as long as he could, reminded himself of all of the pain that Richie had inadvertently caused him over the years.], but every time that he tried to get himself to hate him, all he could see was that goofy smile, freckled face, and his kind brown eyes hidden behind his huge glasses. He was so far gone for him.

He closed the door to his room, flicking the lock closed and dropping his backpack on the floor before throwing himself on his bed. He had just gotten back from one of his study sessions with Richie, and the bastard had licked his lips every five seconds, causing a familiar heat to pool in Vic’s abdomen.

He wiggled his jeans down his hips kicking them off and onto the floor. His flannel and t-shirt went next until he was laying in just his boxers and socks. He let the heel of his palm press lightly into his clothed cock, feeling how hard he already was. He raced to get his boxers off next, his cock springing free to curve up against his belly.

He squeezed a pump of lotion out from the bottle on his bedside table, and rubbed his fingers together in an attempt to warm it up, and then his hand was on his cock. Jerking in a slow and familiar rhythm. He closed his eyes and threw his head back into his pillows, moaning out at the feeling of his own hand. He thumbed his slit slightly, collecting the drops of precum that had collected there and let them mix with the lotion. He kept jerking up and down, flicking his wrist when he would get close to the head.

Images flashed behind his closed eyes. He imagined running his fingers through those messy dark curls, and pulling on them. God, he would pull on them so hard while Richie swallowed his cock. Then there were Richie’s fingers, long and slim, skilled from playing the guitar, Vic could imagine how the callices would feel against his delicate insides, fucking him open. His tongue, that sinful tongue. Vic wanted that tongue inside of him. In his mouth, God in his ass.

Vic could feel his orgasm fast approaching, his hand sped up, chasing release. He rubbed his thumb against the sensitive ridge under the head of the cock, just on the verge of painful, and then he let himself imagine what Richie’s cock would look like. Long and slim, but impressive, just like Richie himself. He jerked two more times before he was cumming. He felt his toes curl and his entire body spasm, spurts of milky white cum landing on his chest. He stroked himself slowly through it, before he fully collapsed onto his pillows.

Not even a moment later, he felt the shame kick in. Of what he had just done. He needed to keep control of himself. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, what if he slipped up at school? What would happen then.

-

A stray look and a small smile on his face. That was all it took for Vic’s feelings for Richie to be noticed by the worst possible person. Henry.

It happened at lunch. Vic and belch were sitting off in the corner where they always did, the Losers at their own table in the middle of the chaos. Richie had stood on the cafeteria table and started to perform what was surely the worst Irish step dance in history. Bill and Ben had tried to pull him down off of the table, but he was surprisingly strong and coordinated enough to leave them toppled over while he was still upright. The other Losers just shook their heads at his antics, Bev recording the whole thing on her phone.

Vic smiled at the sight. The sight of the happy boy that he liked dancing goofily on a cafeteria table. It felt like only seconds had passed before he was being lifted out of his seat and slammed into the floor. He gasped for air, head throbbing from impact. He looked up to see Henry, damn near foaming at the mouth above him. Belch moved to help Vic up, but Henry shot him a warning glance, the kind that told everyone that he would actually slit his former friend’s throat if he had the chance.

“ARE YOU FUCKING HIM YOU LITTLE FAGGOT?” He screamed down at him, Vic tried to scramble up to his feat, but Henry pushed him back down by his shoulders. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION YOU DUMB SLUT. ARE YOU FUCKING RICHIE TOZIER?”

“N-no NO.” He stammered out, his chest felt heavy, like he couldn’t fully breath. He wished that he had his anxiety medication on him, but Henry never believed in those pills anyway and would have just thrown them away.

“What are you Stuttering Bill now?” Henry asked with a cruel laugh, he squatted down in front of Vic, he was so close that Vic could smell of stale cigarettes that clung to Henry’s tongue, and something else he knew all too well, beer. “I saw you smile at him Victor. You pathetic little fag, in love with a Loser?” Henry looked at someone behind Vic and sneered. Vic didn’t have to look to know that it was Richie.

“HEY BOWERS! Why don’t you leave him the fuck alone?” A voice called out, it was Richie’s, and it made Vic’s heart clench in his chest. Why couldn’t Richie just keep his mouth shut. Let Vic take this beating, and just move on with their lives.

“Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth, Tozier?” Henry spat, and his attention was back on Vic who had managed to stand up, but was struggling to keep his balance. “Does he know, Vicky? Does he know what a pathetic little slut you are, all the things you let me do to you? What you let me AND Patrick do to you?” Henry snarled, and Vic’s breath caught in his throat.

He hadn’t let them. In fact he had convinced himself that it was all a dream, that the pain that he had felt in his ass, like he was being torn open until he bled, was just a dream. They had gotten him drunk and high, just enough that he would be pliable, but not enough for him to black out, he honestly thought that he would have prefered that more, but then he wouldn’t have been able to feel what they were doing to him, and that was truly Pat’s kink. Causing people horrendous pain. Henry liked the dominating side of it, and that night he had. He had dominated Vic without his consent, and let his boyfriend be violated by his friend as well, at the same time. The painful memories came flooding back in Vic’s mind. He could feel the tears pricking his eyes.

“That’s right, Vicky. You remember good and well. He’s never going to want you, even trash like him wouldn’t want something used and destroyed like you.” That was the last thing Vic heard, because he was running again, he had to get out of there, away from him. He was tired of Henry tearing him down like this, in front of people, it was cruel. This time he didn’t just run to a bathroom and hide, he hightailed it out of the front doors of the school and just ran.

He collapsed to his knees once he reached the park, body overcome with emotion and unable to physically continue. Sobs began wretching themselves from his throat, tears flowing freely now. He hadn’t heard anyone behind him, but then he felt a hand touch his shoulder and he flung himself backwards, scared at the prospect of it being Henry, there to finish him off.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. Vic, can you look at me?” A soft voice said, and he whimpered at the sound, he knew that voice. It was Richie. He blinked back tears and turned his head to look at the other boy. Richie wore a concerned expression on his face, and he moved to kneel in front of Vic, careful not to touch him again. Afraid that he would spook him. “It’s just me, Vic. It’s just me.” He soothed.

Vic nodded, and tried to get control of his breathing, he moved closer to Richie, allowing him to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Richie rocked him back and forth in his arms for a few minutes, until Vic had stopped shaking.

“I…” Richie started, but stopped, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. “I am so sorry, that he said those things to you, that he physically did what he did today, and everything else he did before. I’m so sorry, Vic. You don’t deserve that.” Richie told him softly.

“You don’t know that.” Vic said, voice small as he shook his head. “You don’t know me. I’m pathetic, just like Henry said. I let him do those things to me…” He couldn’t continue, he keeled over and began retching into the grass, the newfound memories present in his mind.

“I don't think that you’re pathetic. I think that you are so strong.” Richie told him, and Vic scoffed slightly. “And I would really really like to get to know you. More than I do already, because I like you Vic. I think you’re special.” Vic looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

“You mean that?” Vic asked, and Richie just nodded. They stayed still and silent for a few more minutes, before Richie was pulling himself into a standing position and reaching a hand down to help Vic right himself.

“Why don’t we go back to my house? I can make you some tea, and we can get to know each other a bit better. How does that sound?” Richie asked sweetly, and Vic could feel his stomach flutter at the tone.

“That sounds perfect.” Vic told him, and let Richie grab his hand, leading him down the streets of Derry to his house.

-

Vic let out a yawn and stretched as he began to fully wake up, he was in an unfamiliar bed and it startled him for a moment. He was about to panic when the door to the room opened and Richie walked in with two mugs.

“Hey, you’re up.” Richie said with a soft smile, Vic must have looked confused, because he continued. “You were really worn out when we finally got back here, you’re in my house by the way, so I figured that it would be best to just let you sleep for a while, you’ve had a rough day.” Richie told him, handing Vic one of the mugs.

“Thanks.” He said, accepting it and taking a small sip of the hot herbal liquid. “For everything, for following me and getting me somewhere safe.” Vic said, nothing but sincerity and gratitude in his voice.

“Of course.” Richie smiled at him again, he really needed to stop doing that. “Vic...can we talk about what happened, what Henry said?”

“I...I don’t really want to talk about the abuse...the things he did to me…” Vic said sadly, a hiccup making its way out of his throat, a sign of how upset the topic made him.

“No. Not that, although if you ever feel comfortable telling me, I would listen as best as I could.” Richie told him. “I was referring to what Henry was saying, about you having feelings for me...do you?” He asked softly, voice full of something that was hard for Vic to pinpoint.

“I do. I’m sorry, I tried so hard to fight the feelings, but I just couldn’t.” Vic confessed, a frown etched on his face. Richie gently grasped Vic’s chin and pulled it up so that he was looking him in the eye.

“I’m glad you couldn’t, because well, I couldn’t either.” Richie told him and Vic’s eyes went wide with shock.

“W-wh-what?” He choked out, and Richie let out a small laugh before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Vic’s lips. He pulled back almost immediately, watching the smaller boy’s face to see his reaction.

“Was that okay?” Richie asked, that mysterious tone was back, self doubt he recognized it as now. His eyes held so much hope, but also fear.

“FUCK YES!” Vic cried out, surging forward to capture Richie’s lips with his again. He crawled into Richie’s lap easily, refusing to break the kiss. Richie held onto his hips, while Vic ran his hands up and down Richie’s back. They pulled back after a few minutes, desperate to catch their breaths. “Richie…?” Vic asked, gaining his attention. “Will you fuck me, nice and slow and lovingly? I’ve never had that before.” Richie’s breath got caught and he choked slightly.

“Are you sure? It’s been an emotional day…” Richie started to ask, but was cut off when Vic pressed his lips to Richie’s again.

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life. I trust you, please make me feel again.” Vic said softly, and Richie nodded. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and stood to pull his jeans off as well. Vic followed suit, pulling his sweatpants and long sleeved t-shirt off as well. Richie let out an audible gasp when he saw some of the scarring that Vic had on his arms and his chest, he knew that they were battle wounds left by Henry.

Richie helped Vic to lay back on the pillows, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before moving down to his chest. Richie pressed a sweet kiss to each of Vic’s visible scars. Acknowledging all of the pain that he had been through. When he was finished, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Vick’s briefs and looked up at him for permission, Vic nodded and Richie pulled them over his ass and down his legs, so that Vic was laying completely bare in front of him. He licked his lips at the sight.

“Can I suck you off, Sweetheart?” Richie asked, and Vic moaned at the thought. Henry had never done that for him, in fact Vic had never had a proper blow job in his entire life, and here his crush was asking him if he could. He nodded in consent. Richie moved forward, wrapping his hand around the base of Vic’s cock and guiding it to his lips. He took it in easily, letting his mouth slide up and down the shaft. Vic let his hand rest in Richie’s curls and Richie groaned, encouraging Vic to tug his hair slightly. When he did, Richie moaned louder, the vibrations sending shock waves through Vic’s cock. It was beautiful, but he didn’t want to cum from just that.

“Richie, if you don’t stop I’m gonna...you know.” Vic let out, and Richie pulled off with a pop, smiling up at him.

“Okay, I’ve got you, how about we try some fingers next? I’ll take it nice and slow, working you open for my cock.” Richie told him.

“Yesyesyesyes.” Vic rushed out, and Richie let out a fond laugh. Richie reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a tube of lube and a condom. He set the condom on the bed, and popped the cap on the tube of lube. He squeezed enough onto the tips of his fingers that he could coat three of them. He rubbed his fingers together slightly to warm it up before turning his attention back to the boy in his bed.

“Can you hug your knees to your chest for me, V? Put that pretty hole on display for me?” Richie’s tone was sweet, but also had a directive tone to it. He wasn’t just asking Vic to do something, but rather telling him exactly what needed to be done. Vic did as he was told and hugged his knees to his chest. Richie groaned at the sight, when his little pink puckered hole revealed itself. “Alright, here goes one finger.”

Richie traced the ring of muscle with one of his lubed up fingers, teasing Vic’s hole ever so lightly. Vic whined and Richie finally relented, pushing his finger past the ring of muscles and into his hole, he took it easily, and soon Richie was thrusting in and out with more force. Vic moaned out at the sensation, and then his jaw dropped open when he felt two fingers pushing back into him. Richie scissored his fingers and flicked his wrist every once in a while, driving Vic absolutely crazy. He was going too slow, he needed more.

“Richie, please. I’m ready. I can take it.” Vic cried out, but Richie shook his head and added another finger so that Vic was being stretched open by three. He was right about Richie’s long and slim fingers fucking him open. It was perfect, exactly what he fantasized about. He started rocking his hips back to meet the thrusts of the fingers, and Richie took that as his cue that Vic was ready for more.

“Are you still with me?” Richie asked, and Vic nodded, cheeks and chest flushing from his arousal. He watched as Richie shed his boxers, his cock just as beautiful as he had imagined in his fantasies. Richie grabbed the condom from the bed and open the foil package, easily sliding the latex down his cock. He leaned forward, the blunt head of his cock resting against Vic’s hole. He gave him one more concerned look, met with a nod, before he slowly pushed himself all the way in. It took a minute, he didn’t want to hurt Vic after all, but then his hips were meeting Vic’s ass, and it felt amazing.

“You can move.” Vic told him, and Richie started thrusting in and out of him slowly and fluidly. Vic moaned at the feeling, screwing his eyes just from the sheer force of pleasure. Richie picked up his pace, building a steady rhythm and adjusting his hips to fuck right into Vic’s prostate. “Ahhhhh fuck!” Vic cried out and Richie repeated the action. Vic was crying out with every thrust, every slight touch of skin on skin anywhere but their crotches.

Richie could feel his own orgasm coming closer, but this was all about Vic. He needed to cum first. Richie snaked his hand down in between them and took a hold of Vic’s cock. He began pumping him in time with his own thrusts. It took less than ten strokes before Vic was letting out a long and drawn out moan, cumming all over his and Richie’s chests. Richie kept pumping into him, now with a purpose, he pressed in one final time and filled the condom deep inside of Vic’s ass. He pulled out carefully, dropping the condom into the wastebasket next to his bed. He moved to lay behind Vic, his arm wrapping over his midsection, and he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Thank you for this, Richie. It was amazing. I just can’t help myself when I’m around you.” Vic said graciously, and he could feel Richie smiling from where he was rested against his neck.

“Right back at you.” Richie said with a slight giggle. “Now how about we go to sleep now, and then deal with discussing what this means when we wake up?” He asked, and Vic nodded turning to press a sweet kiss against his cheek.

The snuggled into one another, neither remembering the last time they had felt this safe and comfortable.  Vic and Richie thanked God they were assigned as study buddies.

[oldvillagecrone]

IT’S GONNA TAKE A LOT TO DRAG ME AWAY FROM YOU

Pairing: Reddie with background Stenbrough and Mike/Ben + lesbian!Bev

Word Count: 1904

Prompt: modern, college, soulmate au

Warning: mention of childhood abuse (but only in the past – not major theme)

Dedication: my faves in the loser club gc !!!!

__________

 Eddie Kaspbrak had a full ride to UMAINE. It wasn’t because his grades were ridiculously amazing ( though he was in the honors program, so his grades definitely helped ) but because of his rather unfortunate situation. The full ride came because of his independent student status, because he wasn’t living at home, because his mother was ruled unfit to take care of him for numerous reasons that would leave him forever scarred. From the time Eddie was fifteen, he was living under the roof of his best friend Stan’s house.

Eddie loved Mr. and Mrs. Uris. They took care of him and asked for nothing in return. They didn’t even force Eddie to go to the Synagogue with them; those few trips before ultimately deciding that religion wasn’t for him had been Eddie’s choice.

Despite their anxieties, Eddie and Stan had decided it would be best for them not to room together. Eddie’s roommate was an attractive, tall boy that looked as though he’d be the perfect actor to play a leading role in a romance film. Mike Hanlon was a football player and a History major, but Eddie didn’t care about all of that. What he cared about was the fact that Mike wasn’t a homophobic dick.

The first night at UMAINE, while they spent their day unpacking and organizing, Mike asked Eddie the question Eddie had been dreading his whole life.

“Have you met your soulmate yet?”

Eddie snorted bitterly, thinking of what an asshole his soulmate must be. Because every god damn day, the words to All Star by Smash Mouth went blaring through his head, meaning his soulmate must have been listening to that god forsaken Shrek song. Why couldn’t he have a soulmate like Stan’s who quietly sang Ed Sheeran and John Mayer in the mornings and night in a sweet voice.

And the things Eddie knew about his soulmate didn’t make him feel all that inclined to meeting the bastard. For example, he knew that at the age of twelve his soulmate tried to smoke in order to look cool ( Eddie hated that ). Eddie also knew that when his soulmate was sixteen, he got punched in the face by a senior for mouthing off. Eddie knew that his soulmate was a complete trashmouth that was constantly looking for trouble, and that was something Eddie didn’t want. He didn’t need trouble. He didn’t have room for it in his life.

“No,” Eddie finally answered, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, his smile stretching across the span of his face. His dark eyes sparkled with utter happiness that made Eddie melt a little. “He, uh, his name is Ben and he’s an architect major.”

He. Instantly, every ounce of worry and doubt were gone from Eddie’s body. He beamed at Mike.

“That’s awesome, Mike!” Eddie said happily. “I’d love to meet him.”

Before Mike could respond, there was an angry hammering at the door.

“EDDIE!” Stan’s voice yelled.

Eddie and Mike shared a grimace. Mike, being closer, opened the door and Stan came stomping in, absolutely red in the face.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Stan seethed, fists balled at his sides.

“Who?”

“My roommate!” Stan exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “He’s messy, he’s loud, he’s obnoxious— completely unorganized— it’s just awful, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry?” Eddie said.

He wasn’t really sure how to fix Stan’s problem. He wasn’t even sure if he could fix Stan’s problem.

“I needed to get out,” Stan groaned. He gestured loosely to Eddie’s bed. “Can I sit?”

“Knock yourself out,” Eddie said, holding back a small grin as he looked at Mike. “Mike, this is Stan. Stan, this is Mike.”

Both boys said ‘hi’ at the same time and offered the same brand of awkward smiles. After a moment, Mike clapped his hands together and offered to order a pizza.

 __

 Mike’s soulmate, Ben, had been in Eddie’s English class. Ben was a polite kid, quiet and very cute. Despite only having known them for a very short time, Eddie could tell that Ben and Mike were kind of perfect for each other. In Eddie’s math theory class ( the class for all the kids that hated math took and only took because it was a requirement they had to fill ), there was a vibrant girl named Bev with short cropped hair and a backpack decorated with all kinds of political and pride buttons. As the professor droned on and on, Bev told Eddie all about the pride club she had been a part of at her high school back in Portland.

After the day ended, Eddie and Mike made their way into the cafeteria. Ben was waiting for them by the front door and greeted the two with a smile before placing a small kiss on Mike’s cheek. Eddie watched the two interact with a soft smile on his lips, wishing more than anything for something like that someday soon.

Bev’s vibrant orange hair stuck out in the crowd. Grinning, Eddie called her name and waved her over to the table he was sitting at with Mike and Ben.

“Hey, Eddie,” Bev said. She winked at Ben as she pulled out a chair and dropped her body into it. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good. What about you?”

“I was hoping the fashion department would be… more. You know?”

As a matter of fact, Eddie didn’t know. But he nodded anyway. And, anyways, he was more distracted by Stan walking and talking with a very tall, very attractive boy with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes wearing a purple and white baseball style shirt. Eddie caught Stan’s eyes and wiggled his eyebrows. Stan flushed and glared at Eddie before mumbling something to the boy. The two approached the table and sat down.

“Bill!” Bev cried happily, greeting the attractive boy with a grin as he sat down next to Stan.

“B-bev, hey,” Bill said, smiling.

“I’m never gonna give you up / never gonna let you down / never gonna run around and / desert you”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Eddie groaned, kneading at his temples with his knuckles.

“What?” Mike asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m getting rickrolled by my freaking soulmate!”

Stan snorted and smirked at Eddie teasingly.

“Does th-thu-that happen off-f-often?” Bill asked Eddie, sounding genuinely curious.

“Way too often,” Eddie huffed. “And he has a good voice too, which makes the whole thing even more annoying.” Eddie rolled his eyes up to the heavens and sighed. “What about you two—” he gestured to Bev and Bill “—what are your soulmates like?”

“She sings a lot of Hayley Kiyoko,” Bev said with a wistful smile. “She’s a history major at BC and she’ll be wearing black high tops when I meet her.”

“That’s adorable,” Eddie couldn’t help but gush. “What about you, Bill?”

“He s-sings a lot of indie m-music,” Bill said. “And he l-l-luh-likes birds.”

Instantly, Eddie and Stan looked at each other, eyes wide. Sure, there were a lot of boys that liked indie music and birds, but it seemed a little too convenient. If Eddie were a betting man, he would’ve bet a million dollars on Stan being Bill’s soulmate. Stan gave Eddie a warning look, so Eddie kept his mouth shut and quickly typed out a text to Stan under the table.

Just then, a loud voice filled the air.

“Bevvie! Big Bill! Stan the Man!”

Eddie watched as Stan’s soul practically died as a tall, gangly boy with dark curls and thickly framed glasses approached the table. This must’ve been the roommate. Well, in any case, Stan’s roommate was hot.

Eddie’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

FROM STAN: I’m gonna kermit

Eddie snorted quietly and looked up at Stan, rolling his eyes. Stan’s roommate pulled up a chair, forcing himself between Bev and Bill, and began talking loudly and animatedly.

FROM STAN: I pity the poor soul that ends up with him

This time, Eddie laughed loudly. All eyes at the table were on him. His face burned.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Funny text.”

“Wowzah,” Stan’s roommate said in a funny voice. “Nice to meet’cha, gorgeous. I’m Richie.”

Richie stuck his hand out for Eddie to shake. Eddie hesitated. Even though he hadn’t seen her in three years, his mother’s voice was still screaming in his head about the dangers of germs and bacteria and other people. Bile surged in his throat, a nasty reminder of the sicknesses he supposedly had and the pills that had been forced down his throat in a number of different ways.

Stan was watching Eddie carefully, ready to pounce on Richie if Eddie even began to remotely break down in microscopic ways.

Instead, Eddie smiled and shook Richie’s hand.

“I’m Eddie.”

 __

 To Stan’s shock and annoyance, Eddie and Richie became fast friends. They spent a ridiculous amount of time together. While everyone else in their friend group had assumed Eddie’s presence would have calmed Richie down, they were bitterly wrong. The two boys egged each other on, growing exceedingly rowdy in each other’s presence.

On the outside, Eddie was as put together as Stan, but on the inside he was quite similar to Richie. Eddie Kaspbrak was a genuine hot mess, and Richie Tozier brought out the messiest side of him. While a hindrance to Stan’s sanity, Eddie found Richie to be freeing.

One chilly October night, while Mike was out of the room, Eddie and Richie were huddled together on Eddie’s best, sipping out of a bottle of cheap vodka Richie had conned a senior into buying for them.

“Tell me about your soulmate, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie requested.

Richie’s glasses weren’t on his face and Eddie wasn’t quite sure where they had ended up. All Eddie could focus on was how close Richie was, and how little he cared about the germs he was picking up from sipping from the same bottle as Richie.

“He’s annoying,” Eddie said, frowning. “He sings stupid songs and gets punched because he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“Sounds like me,” Richie said, grinning obnoxiously at Eddie and leaning in.

Eddie scoffed. I wish.

“Tell me about yours,” Eddie said.

“He’s sings a lot of eighties music and pop. He’s a real dweeb too, you know? A genuine hypochondriac! This morning, oh, this was great—this morning I woke up because he was singing Africa. IT’S GONNA TAKE A LOT TO TAKE ME AWAY FROM YOU!” Richie crooned, leaning into Eddie.

Eddie felt his face burn. He was singing that song this morning, and pissing Mike off as he did so. Suddenly, he felt painfully sober. His mouth was dry and his throat was uncharacteristically sore.

“I— I— I— Rich—”

“Get on with it, Eds!” Richie moaned, slopping some of the vodka out of the bottle.

“I was singing Africa this morning,” Eddie said.

Nothing else mattered in the world, because Richie’s lips were soon sloppily pressed to his. The bottle crashed to the floor and the scent of vodka filled the air but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care about that ( or the germs ) as his lips worked against Richie’s. In the morning, Eddie decided, he would throttle Richie for singing so many meme songs. But for now, in this perfect moment of drunken first kisses, Eddie didn’t want to talk.

____________________

[borkasaurusrex]

(D·N·C) SEASON 1 | EPISODE 3 | "TESSIE"

"Listen closely, for this assignment could potentially cost you half your grade. You don't want to flunk this class because you weren't listening, do you?"

His eyes grazed the dark classroom, a couple students shaking their head nervously when it came around to them. The room was especially dark, almost as if the lights were dimmed on purpose. Under all those shadows were old wood and vintage decorations, from the peeling wallpaper to an entire shelf full of dusty cobwebs, clearly never used. It smelled, looked, and felt old.

Hell, it was old. Probably.

Just like the teacher. Actually, that's not entirely true - he looked mid-age, if not a little more. He was wearing a gray shirt, a gray tie, a gray smile. He looked pretty average, actually - except for his smooth, almost stupidly bald head.

Like, really bald. Like... King Neptune bald, is what we're talkin' here.

But... uh, anyway, the teacher returned his eyes to the center of the room, muttering, "Good." Before taking a piece of chalk from his desk and writing on the board, it letting out the occasional screech.

A hand raised up from behind, from in his peripheral vision.

"What is it, Mr. Moore?" He didn't even turn around.

"Uh... yeah... so... I kinda got a concussion the other day, Mr. Ahlquist , so uh... I'm not gonna be able to do the paper," Weston said. " Just so you, uh, kno -"

"You've already used that excuse before, Mr. Moore. Try again."

"I... uh... got the flu?"

"Already used that."

"Chicken pox?"

"Next."

"Mad Cow Disease?"

"Give me a break.

"... Uh... butt herpes?"

"One more word out of you and you'll be spending your afternoon in my class," Ahlquist warned, tone stern. "Not. A. Word."

"..."

"... Calculus?"

-~-

RRRRRING!  

"- All I'm saying is, if she wasn't the sister of the worst Axe-scented homophobe on the planet... I might be into her," Axel said, "But... well, you can see why that may be a turn-off."

"But... Ax! Didn't you see her bazookas?" Weston asked.

"... Did you mean 'bazongas'? Not... not that I'm listening to your misogynistic toss or anything..." Evanna grumbled.

"No, I meant bazookas. Y'know, like the thing the army uses that blows the shit outta third world countries? That kind of thing."

"You're... going to need to need to be more specific."

Weston laughed, slapping Evanna's back a little too hard, hard enough that she almost dropped her phone. She looked up at him, brows deep and teeth bared like an injured animal. Weston took his hand off her back fast.

"Uh... well... carry on!" He took a big step forward in front of the other two, and kept on walking. Axel and Evanna did the same.

The three teens strolled down one of the many halls of Calcheri Valley High, dozens of students, lockers, and doors of generally the same colors behind them as they made their way down. The air was alive with the slamming of lockers, the bickering and back-and-forth of friends and even the pale blue anti-drug posters (somehow) poorly pinned to the walls. Weston skidded to a stop in the middle of two bathroom doors, right in front of a particularly tall water fountain. Being five foot three... it was going to be a challenge.

"That's okay..." he whispered to himself. "I like a good challenge."

"It's just a water fountain, mate," Evanna said, coming to a stop next to Axel. "Like... hell. It's not even that tall."

"Oh, right, to you it's not 'that tall'. To you. Well... try walking in my shoes for a second here - "

"I can't," she replied. "They wouldn't fit."

" - You don't have a problem getting up there. You don't, because you don't have what I have. This... curse. This painful infliction. I simply wish to take a sweet and savory sip from the heavens above, but to you, a giant with the privilege to match - "

"I'm two inches taller than you!"

"Ah, so you admit it! Two inches. Two! Five centimeters! Eighty... eighty millimeters?"

"Fifty, actually," Axel said, "Fifty millimeters."

"Why don't you get on him then, huh?" Evanna asked, gesturing towards the brunette at her side. "He's, like, a whole foot taller than you, and yet you're not getting on him - "

" - I'm only five foot ten, Evanna, I'm not - "

"Ax isn't taller than me, he's... he's borrowing the inches from a friend," Weston interrupted. "I thought you'd know that."

"... Who would that be, then?"

"Oh, Abraham Lincoln. Duh."

"Oh, of course," Evanna scoffed, crossing her arms. "Silly me."

"I know, right?" Weston agreed, pressing the front of the fountain and taking a couple gulps of the thin stream ahead.

"Oh, speaking of Lincoln... what were you guys going to do for Ahlquist's project?" Axel asked. "Y'know, the project?"

"I was gonna eat it," Weston said, mid-gulp. "You?"

Evanna groaned. "Ugh, of course you were..."

"I was going to use barbecue sauce. I'm not an animal." He winked at her, then returned to his aqua.

"I was going to write about Wilson, considering that, compared to the long-run of racists this country's had in office, he seemed a little... well, less," Evanna said. "What about you?"

"I was going to do it on him too, actually. Not because of the whole non-racist thing but, you know... that is a plus." Axel turned over to Weston, adding, "Who are you going to do, Weston?"

"Probably nobody tonight," Weston replied. "I don't have any condoms, remember? Ran out."

"Weston."

"Just kidding, just kidding... I don't have any idea actually. I don't even know fucking anything 'bout the men and men who've run this shitshow, now that I'm thinking about it..."

"Pschh. Figures," Evanna muttered.

"Hey, it's not my fault that all the shows and stuff 'bout that junk are about as fun as a shitting koala, and even then, the koala would be more fun to look at!" Weston said. "I mean sure, it would... oh, it would be messy... but, hey, beats staring up a bunch of old powder wigged butts or whatever the fuck they - "

"Oh, lookie who we have here!"

Axel gulped. Hard. "Oh, crap in a hat."

Behind the three teens were three teens, though much different than our protagonists. One was huge, a Goliath of a boy with a quiff that would put Brendan Urie to shame. One was a little smaller but still fit, skin as black as his dreads and jacket as white as Nixon. The last, the one in front, was a guy. He was tall, slender, skin pale and his brown hair somehow paler. His lips were almost impossibly thin, like a slit on his face, deep facial creases under his eyes despite not looking much older than the students to his left and right. He grinned, a sort of sinister smile that could only come from a prison warden or schoolyard bully.

It's safe to say he probably wasn't the first.

"I'm surprised, ElRite. I thought you said you weren't coming to CVH this year," the boy asked, his hoarse voice making the words sound extra rough. "You weren't lying, were ya?"

"No, I... I wasn't." Axel cleared his throat, adding, "Things didn't turn out the way I thought and now I get to stay here a for a little longer."

"Oh, fun. We'll have to have to hang out sometime," the guy said, "You know. Catch up."

"Uh, I don't - "

"Weston. Come on, man. I know you're better than this. Why don't you leave these pussies and come back to us, to your real friends? C'mon, dude..." The sunken boy looked over at him, trying to smile reassuringly but only making it look fake. "... don't waste high school with them. Waste it with us."

"You know I can have, like, more than three friends... right, Hazen?" Weston asked.

"Then why'd you stop hanging out with us, West?" One of the kids asked from behind: the dreadlocked one.

"Look, it's... I don't have the time, alright? And, 'sides: even if I wanted to go, my schedule wouldn't allow it," Weston turned back to the leader of the pack, Hazen, saying, "Sorry. I'm busy."

Hazen furrowed his brows, hard. "Busy with what?"

"4:00, wallow in self-pity. 4:30, stare into the abyss. 5:00, solve world hunger... tell no one... 5:30, jazzercise. 6:30, dinner with me (I can't cancel that again)... 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing... I'm booked. Well, if I bumped self-loathing to 9:00, I'd have time to lay in bed - "

"Forget I asked. Jesus Christ, Weston. You and your Jim Carrey references..." Hazen groaned. "See, West, that's why we need you back. All we got are Jobe and his Big Bang Theory jokes and even then those get stale very, very fast..."

The third boy, the huge one, grinned. "Bazoonga."

"Face it, dude. You're miserable without us," Hazen said. "About as miserable as the sad excuses you can hang out with now on a daily basis, anyway - "

"Why don't you just sod off?"

Hazen turned around, slowly, brows high in surprise. He chuckled deep, asking, "... What did you just say?"

"Sod off?" Evanna repeated. "It's like 'fuck off' but, y'know... more British."

"Seelig, if you want to live through your first year of high school I would suggest you - "

"I what? Ask for mercy? Ask for forgiveness? Pray to the gods above that Hazen Rickman, the most overrated git in the Valley, doesn't smite me down to the depths of Hell with his petty insults and laughable quips? Huh? Is that what you'd suggest?"

The two guys behind Hazen look at him mouths open, eyes wider than their gaw. Hazen looked far less impressed.

"Well..." he thought for a second. Then, he said, "... at least my father's not a drunk."

"... Was that supposed to offend me?" Evanna asked, pitch on the verge of laughing. "Heh. Try again, mate."

"... Uh... at least my mom's not dead!"

"Try again."

"My brother's not a retarded fag!"

"Oh, ouch. The edge."

"Well..." Hazen paused, then said with a wide grin, "... at least I'm not so fucked up in the head I need a therapist.

Evanna locked eyes with him. If she was upset, she certainly didn't show it. "Well, that's debatable."

"Look, Rickman." She stared up at him, deep into his eyes. "I get it. Your daily life is miserable and nobody loves you so you take it out on kids smaller and more vulnerable than you. Well, let me tell you something, tosser. I may be smaller than you but if you think I'm more vulnerable than your crumbling facade of manhood than I've got news for ya: you're the one that needs therapy, mate. Now get the fuck outta my sight."

Hazen's lackeys were more shook than a tree in Autumn, Hazen so surprised he looked like he was going to scream. He cleared his throat, stuttering out "But... but..."

"Go away before you embarrass yourself more. C'mon guys, let's get to class."

Evanna bumped Hazen's shoulder on the way out, knocking him to the side while strutting right between his two friends, both of them backing up quickly to avoid the same. Axel followed closely, avoiding eye contact, while Weston simply shrugged with a grin and tailed behind the two as they all disappeared around a corner only seconds later.

The dreadlocked one looked up at Hazen, expression just a little bit more than concerned. He gulped when he saw his tightly clenched red fist, and asked, "Uh... hey Haze? You okay, dude?"

Hazen locked eyes with him, grinning a weak yet knowing smile. He chuckled under his breath, deep and airy. Waving his hand slightly towards himself, he muttered in a deep tone, "Come on, guys. Let's get to class..."

-~-

" - all I'm saying is that I don't get why you care so much about some trivial proje - "

"By writing - and praising - the works of a racist, even in something as 'trivial' as a school project, you're excusing his actions and pretending he did nothing wrong when, in fact, that couldn't be farther from the bloody truth," Evanna explained. "Do you get it now?"

Axel frowned... but nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

"Good. While I know we're going to have to do more research it is for a better cause. Well, better than glorifying some jizzrag with a hard-on for racism, anywa - "

"I heard hard-on and jizz!" Weston popped his head in from the open door, smiling wide. "What're we doing?!"

"Working on Ahlquist's project," Evanna said. "Unlike you."

"But... but I thought we were...?" Weston grumbled, hanging his head low. "... well, my boner's gone."

"Could you maybe help us out?" Axel asked. "Just a bit? We still need to find a fourth article for citing if you want to help us work on- "

"Work? Ugh."

"You're going to have to do something eventually," Evanna said, "You don't want to fail, do you?"

"Well... I can think of worst things."

"Weston."

"I was just jokin'... ha..." Weston stepped into the door frame, chuckling under his breath. "I would love to do that whole "work excited" thing Ax. What's... what's it for?"

"It's pretty simple, actually," Axel replied. "You basically have to "show" your work for how you got the answers you've gotten. You know, like sharing the link to an article you used or some book you don't know, you just put it in the works cited page so the teacher knows you didn't cheat, or whatever. You don't even need to put all the sources you used, you just have to... just..."

"He's gone, isn't he?"

Evanna didn't even need to check. She groaned. "Big surprise, ain't it?"

"Look, we'll... we'll do it ourselves, alright?" she said, looking up at her project partner. "He wants to throw away his chance of passing this class, well... it's his loss. It doesn't have to be ours too, y'know."

"You're right, Evanna. Thanks."

"'Course I am. Now, let's just get this thing done, aye? Before something even more annoying happens..."

-~-

"Toss the rope, Jobe. Now."

The hugely muscular boy looked down at the coiled bundle of rope in his hands, then back up at Hazen. "Why?"

"Do we really have to go over this again? Really?" Hazen sighed heavily, facepalming himself. "... Fine. But try to fucking listen this time, okay?"

"West has... lost his way. So we, being the amazing friends we are, are gonna help him get back on the "right path" so to speak," he explained, "And so that brings us where...? That's right, it - "

"ElRite's house, right?" the dreadlocked guy asked, patting a nearby window frame. Sure enough, the three teens were outside of the ElRite residence, the evening sun making the pale green house look even paler somehow than usual. They were on the side of the house, away from any doors and windows except for one. But it didn't really matter. They were curtains over it, anyway. "Oh... wait. That was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"

Hazen glared at him, letting out a small sigh. "At least all of you aren't stupid..."

"As I was saying. Revenge is a dish best served cold most of the time but it doesn't have to be cold. It can be... smokey." He drew out a small spherical object from inside his pocket, like a fusion between a grenade and a GameSphere. "The plan is simple. We use the rope to scale the house and, once on the roof, we drop this little friend of ours down the chimney and get the fuck out of here faster than Cameron's erectile dysfunction. Got it?"

The dreadlocked one, Cameron, sneered. "I get it. Your insult was low, but I get it."

"Heh, literally." Hazen turned to his hugely muscular friend, asking, "What about you, Jobe? Ready?"

Jobe looked down at him, with literally no emotion on his face. "Ready for what?"

"Fucking Jesus, you're useless. You know, whatever, whatever. It doesn't matter. Let's quit this bullshit and focus on what really matters. What we're here for." Hazen grinned, his smile ear-to-ear and so filled of malice it looked positively sinister. "Let's get out friend back."

-~-

"- and I'll be back before you know it."

"You don't gotta go, Ax," Weston said, leaning against the bedroom wall with a CapriSun in hand. "I'll go get it pronto, just... uh... Eve, hold my juice."

"I'd rather not."

"I'm only going to be gone for half an hour, tops," Axel said. "I'll just bike my way to Staples, get some laminated paper and be back before you know it."

"Oh, I know it alright." Weston sniffed dramatically, saying, "How can I live, how can I thrive, without my best friend by my side? What can I do, how can I cope, why should I live without Ax's hope?"

Evanna groaned. "We get it, Dr. Seuss. You can sto - "

"Where can I go? Below or above? How can I leave this place without his juicy love?"

"You can leave Axel," Evanna said, jerking her thumb towards Weston. "He's just being stupid."

"Oh. Okay. I'll, uh, be seeing you then."

"Ditto. Bye."

SLAM!

"Where did he go? Over here, over there? I'll need some relief, maybe in Eve's underwea - "

"OKAY WE'RE STOPPING THIS RIGHT NOW."

-~-

"Alright. Toss me the bomb, Cam."

Cameron craned his head back, looking down at the circular bomb in his hand and up at Hazen. "I've got to throw it to you? All the way up there? What if I miss or something?"

Hazen looked down from far, far up above. He was up on the roof, kneeling on a particularly flat section that barely had enough room for both feet. Even from that far up, his expression looked impatient at best. "If you miss, then this whole operation - and the guy next door - goes up in smoke. So, don't miss. Besides, you won't miss. You were in, like, baseball weren't you?"

"You're thinking of Michaels. I was never in baseball," Cameron said, leaning against a wall-side breaker.

"Yeah you were. You were... fuck. What's it called? The catcher? The..."

"Umpire?"

"Yeah, yeah. The umpire. Wasn't that you?"

"No. That wasn't even Michaels, that was Abe."

"... You sure?" Hazen asked. "I could've sworn that, in eight grade, you were catching the balls or something. Weren't you the guy who threw the baseball into Lucas' drink? I could've sworn that - "

"Dude, that was Sikes."

"No shit? Well, y'know, whatever. Black people all look the same anyway."

"Oh my God, oh my God. I hope you're not being serious."

"Heh, I'm never serious. Unless, y'know, I need to. Like right now." Hazen waved up towards himself, saying, "Enough chatter, we've got to do this now. Throw up the 'nade, Cam/Michaels/Sikes/whatever the fuck your name is..."

"I hate you." Cameron reached his arm back, bracing his arm... but didn't released. "Real quick, dude: you've got everything ready? Rope tight and all?"

Hazen tugged on the rope tied - and literally glued - to his ankle, leading all the wall to a gutter a couple of yards away from the teen. "Yep. Ready to fuck 'em up."

"Cool. Alrighty. Then here, we go - !" He winded his arm up, brought it back and then -

"Fuck dude, there's someone coming!" he cried out, dropping the bomb into the grass below.

"Shit! Who is i - "

"Some fuck on a bike! Quick, hide! Hide!" Cameron sprinted away at high speeds, disappearing around the corner. Jobe slowly followed.

"Wait, don't... don't... fuck." Hazen leaned his head forward, his partners in crime no where to be found. "Well. Guess it's on me now..."

-~-

"So, what do you think?"

Evanna leaned over his shoulder, glancing down at the two page report sprawled out on the computer's cluttered word document. It was messy, formless, littered with more typos than commas, yet...

"It's... not bad," Evanna said. "Sure, could use some polish (definitely use some polish) but... good job, Axel."

"You really think so? Oh, thank God." Axel gave a happy sigh of relief, adding, "When you work on a report like this all by yourself for three hours and without a word processor with an automatic saving system it... it's really a relief it turned out okay."

"Wait... wasn't Weston supposed to help you?"

"Eh... supposed to's the key word there..."

"I... I'm going to go talk to him," Evanna said, leaning up straight. "I could force him to write the introduction, or the works cited page, or something. I'll make sure he doesn't get out doing this the 'Weston Way' again."

"Thanks Evanna. That means a lot."

"Mhmm." She turned her back on the brunette, strolling out of the dim office room but not before adding, "Oh, and for the love of the sodding Maker, Axel, save at some point, okay?"

"Don't worry. I just got one paragraph to go and then, boom. Instant A. Or B."

"C, most likely," Evanna said, her voice disappearing as she walked out the door. "I mean, c'mon. I'm just being realistic."

With a creaky Slam! Axel was by himself, nothing in the study except for him and a computer so old Dumbledore would shit himself.

"Alrighty then. Just... one. More. Paragraph..."

-~-

Around 12:00 a.m. is when the ElRite's little corner of Calcheri Valley gets lots of three things. Lots of wind, lots of dark, and lots and lots of cold.

And by lots of cold, I mean lots.

Which is probably why the now-shaking Hazen Rickman kept leaning his head over and around his corner of the roof, trying to find something - anything - to get back down but... alas. There was none.

He thought about using the rope to shimmy down, but no. It was attached to his sneaker rather... well... permanently. Or as permanently as half a tube of gorilla glue can be, anyway.

Why was the rope glued to his shoe in the first place? Well... he kind of forgot.

But it wasn't important. Definitely not anymore.

The stranded teen grumbledsilently, cursing himself, his friends, everything under his breath. "It's not bad enough that the plan's ruined... oh no, the universe just so happened to decide that I was gonna spend the entire night on top of a fuckin' cold as balls roof. Alone. With a rope glued to my shoe... with a rope glued to my fuckin' shoe..."

"Well... got to get down sometime..." he craned his head, measuring the distance he would have to jump to get to the next corner of the roof. Sure, it's still on the roof, but right next to a window. An open window. "'Sides, what's the worst that could happen?"

Looking down at his feet, and the wobbling guttar below, he made his first step, wide and cautious. It creaked, but didn't give. He gave another step, wider and slightly less careful. No give. Giving a sigh of relief, he lifted his foot to take that third step... when it hit.

No, not his foot. A gust of wind.

A really, really big gust of wind.

Hazen could barely hold in a cry as his foot slid across the metal, his weight practically throwing himself. He tumbled over, falling over twenty feet down. He screamed his head off, letting off every swear in his vocabulary... yet his body didn't go straight down. It was, sure, but the rope attached to his foot jerked him forward, causing the brown haired bully to swing headfirst into the side of the house, straight into the exposed, looming circuit breaker.

"AW SHIIIIIII  - !!" Was all that came out of the boy before he flew forward at full speed towards the outstretched electricity box, body tighter than lead as he braced for collision...

-~-

"Aaand, there." Axel smiled, scrolling up his word document. "Now, if I can just print this thing - and save - then I'll be good to - "

He was interrupted by a sudden absolute darkness, his lights flickered out and his computer shut completely down. He knew what happened. He knew, with his body shaking with pain and despair, exactly what fucking just happened.

The power. It went out.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU - !! "

-~-

RRRRRING!  

"So, how'd your essay go?"

Weston gave a weak chuckle. "Just... just great."

"Really? How so?"

"I presented that one story I told you guys 'bout yesterday. Y'know, the one about the cyborg ninja and his ball-chucking boyfriend?"

Axel groaned at that. "Ugh, don't remind me... did Ahlquist like it?"

Weston chuckled again, loud and proud. "I have detention for the next two weeks."

"He hated it that much?" Evanna asked, stepping out of the way of a couple of oncoming students.

"Well... uh, you see..." Weston flashed a wide grin, almost whispering, "I drew pictures."

"Say no more, Weston. Please, say no more..."

Evanna and Weston chuckled, the three disappearing around the corner and out of the overcrowded afternoon school hall. Coming in from the exact same corner were three other teens, but pretty much the opposite of before. Cameron and Jobe walked solemnly, the former pushing a wheelchair sat by Hazen Rickman, covered neck to toe in a full body cast that enveloped the boy like a gum wrapper. And, despite that, he was talking the most.

" - fuckin' ElRite..." he grumbled, jittering slightly from the bumps below. "You'd think slipping off the roof and slamming face first into a breaker was bad enough, but nooo... apparently my body didn't like to be jock full of thousands of volts of electricity. Big surprise, huh?"

"Yup," Jobe said. "Surprise."

"Where were you guys, anyway?" Hazen asked, rough and angry. "You never came back for me. Never. Not fucking once."

"Well, after we were spooked... we realized we were kinda hungry too, and went to the Hairy Italian for a quick munch. Natural instincts, you know," Cameron said.

Jobe grinned. "It was Sausage Saturday."

"But hey, dude," Cameron said, "You handled it all pretty well by yourself, 'sides the 'whole shocking your entire skeleton out of your asshole' business, but still."

"... I guess that's true," Hazen said, "I didn't drop the bomb. I didn't do that. I did drop something else, though... myself.

"I mean, I tried to get down safety, I did," he continued, "But with the rope glued to my shoe, it was pretty much... why the fuck did we do that, anyway?"

"We thought it'd... hey, wait a second." Cameron stopped walking, Jobe and Hazen coming to a stop. "Why didn't you just take off your shoe? Y'know, the one with the glue on it."

Hazen looked forward, an intense realization in his eyes equal parts wonderment and fear. "... Why... didn't I... ?"

" - Take the shoe off?" Cameron finished for him. "I could do it for you, if you want."

Hazen glanced at him side-eyes style, a slow creeping smile building on his cheeks. "Well... Cam. That would've been great and all except for the part where you weren't FUCKING THERE!"

Cameron looked down sheepishly, eyebrows scrunched. "I... I thought'd you want a slice of 'za."

"Oh oh oh you thought'd I'd like a slice of 'za? YOU THOUGHT'D I'D LIKE A SLICE OF 'ZA?! YOU KNOW WHAT I WOULD'VE LIKED, CAM? HMM? IS TO HAVE GOTTEN OFF ELREEK'S fUCKING ROOF WITHOUT BEING SHOCKED NINETY-NINE FUCKIN' TIMES LIKE FRANKENSTEIN'S LITTLE FUCKING BITCH! YOU... YOU... THINK, CAM! JUST FUCKING THINK, OKAY?"

"... Does that mean you don't want your slice?"

"DO YOU THINK I WANT THE FUCKING SLICE? DO YA, CAM? DO YA?!"

"... Is that a no?"