The taunting repeat of his words, that had been so automatic, stung perhaps more than they should have - he knew, realistically, that the clown didn’t care about either of them. Why not taunt? Tease? Be every bit the bully Bowers was, only worse? His heart was absolutely pounding in his chest by that point, the sound ricocheting throughout his veins and making his stomach twist… though his eyes never wavered from his best friend, bound and tied like some kind of animal in Pennywise’s clutches. “Stop it! S-Stop–!” he protested as the stitch was teased, plucked at… and finally broken.
The resulting blood made the clenched fist rise to cover his mouth as a wheeze tried to overtake his breathing, as his vision swimmed for a split second as if playfully hinting unconsciousness. Everything his mother had told him about removing stitches early came rushing back against his better judgment while his free hand clutched desperately at the fence behind him – likely the only reason he was still standing at that point. The clown’s next words made his heart leap up into his throat and he nearly lost his lunch, breathing ragged and barely helping. It was automatic, really, despite how terrified he was… Richie didn’t deserve to die. None of them did. But if there was a choice? He’d never let his friends die so he could run off like a coward.
“F-Fine, take me, please. Just let him go, stop taking out those stitches…!!”
Cruel grin stretching and threatening to tear at its cheeks at Eddie’s agreement, it unceremoniously dropped Richie onto the ground, causing him to fall back before the clown caught him and pushed him forward towards the wheezing boy. Patiently, it watched as he moved towards Eddie...
...But something didn’t seem right.
His footing was unbalanced and awkward as he grew closer and it wasn’t long before more visual differences came to light. Skin gradually growing cold and grey, half of Richie’s face began to droop on one side while his hair began to fall out behind him as he moved. Glasses clattering into the grass, the silent boy slowly reached toward Eddie as he grew closer, almost close enough to touch him, before freezing as an audible squelch hung heavy in the air and a weight pressed against Eddie’s chest while his entire front was splattered with a warm liquid.
Sitting in the middle of Richie’s chest was a bloody, gaping hole in which Pennywise’s arm was snugly fitting through, its gloved hand tightly fisted in the other’s shirt before a sudden rough tug pulled Eddie forward, crashing into the gored boy before his entire body gave way to ashy dust that puffed up into the air. It was all fake, Richie had never even been there in the first place. It had all been another one of its tricks. Winding its arm in, the clown caught the other in its grasp, a dark, satisfied smirk on its face.
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