#wyl

[witekspicsoldpostcards2]

WYL now WIL -> SWITZERLAND

[witekspicsoldpostcards]

WYL - now WIL (St. Gallen) / SWITZERLAND

[lego-asoiaf-fan-minifigs]

Members of the Winterfell guard

First row: Lew (left), Donnis (middle), and Jacks (right)

Second row: Porther (left), Heward (middle), and Wyl (right)

Third row: Varly (left) and Cayn (right)

Fourth row: Quent (left) and Wayn (right)

Here's my LEGO adaptation of alexandrokayart's Winterfell guards fanarts, linked below:

Lew, Donnis

Varly

Jacks, Porther

Cayn

Heward, Wyl

Quent, Wayn

[rhunae]

[conorxjames]

@wyllemjames Brother bonding time happening here.

[fearlessonthecoast]

Baby, you the best 'cause you worked me out. I keep building walls up but you tear 'em down. I'm fighting, I don't wanna like it but you know I like it. But you know I like it, like it, like it. Used to always think I was bullet proof, but you got an AK and you're blowing through. Explosive, you don't even know it, I want you to know it. I want you to know it, know it, know it. All of them other boys can walk away. They ain't even in the game. 'Cause they know that you own it. You got this swag, you got this attitude. Wanna hear you say my name. 'Cause you got me, flying with your love, shining with your love, riding with your love. I feel like I'm on top of the world with your love. One hit with your love. Can't quit with your love. So sick but so what? I feel like I'm on top of the world with your love.

With Ur Love by Cher Lloyd

[eudaimonic-writes]

Whisper Your Love - Chapter 5

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

Chapter 4

Masterpost

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

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

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

And oh, was it going to be alright.

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

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

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

Secondly, Cheerleading. 

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

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

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

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

And he's damn proud. 

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rager."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's really drunk, huh?" 

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

 *

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

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

He's gorgeous.

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

"-alright? Eddie?"

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

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

 *

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

Eddie wants to do a lot of things. 

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

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

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

He just needs to be sure.

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

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mom, really, I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian. His name was Adrian. 

Why can't anyone else seem to remember that?

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Chris is perfectly fine with letting them think that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 To: Stanley<3

are you still mad at me?

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

"Who's texting you?"

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

"Oh." Chris hums. 

 From: Stanley<3

Yes.

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

 From: Stanley<3

But I understand. 

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

 To: Stanley<3

you do???

 From: Stanley<3

I guess. Do you like him?

 To: Stanley<3

yea

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

 From: Stanley<3

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

 Eddie frowns, resisting the urge to groan. 

 To: Stanley<3

i knowwww

 From Stanley<3

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

doesn't deserve this any more than you did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels like he's cheating on Richie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It leaves Eddie feeling weak.

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

 *

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

 From: Stanley<3

You don't need him anymore.

Chapter 6 coming soon

Masterpost

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Oh my word, Louis 🙄