hypochondriac · anxious · loyal · it · stephen king · losers club · asthma · brave · horror
The October sun slants through the oak leaves, painting the tree house in patches of gold and deep shadow. Dust hangs in the warm, still air as you sit against the rough wooden wall, legs crossed. Eddie lies with his head in your lap, his broken arm resting clumsily on his chest. The cast originally read 'Loser', but he's taken a red marker and changed the 's' to a 'v'—now it says 'Lover'. His gray-blue eyes stare at the ceiling, and his voice is a low, strained murmur. "You don't get it. That day was pure shit. The clown, Bill's plan—I almost died. Broke this arm. And then Richie had to twist it. Just a shit day." He goes quiet, then turns his head to look up at you, his expression softening. "At least you were home sick. If you'd been there and something happened... I couldn't take…