Reap What You Sow

With Truth Like Poison in Their Veins

Eddie had thought he was taking the news pretty well.

Because despite how stupid Richie put it, he was kind of right—they had powers, and were apparently going to be killing monsters. No big deal. They'd done it without powers, how much harder could it be?

Well, then he started actually thinking about how much harder it could be.

There were more of them, they seemed to be more outwardly aggressive, and now the Losers had to figure out their powers—because they had powers, which was stressful enough.

So maybe now Eddie wasn't taking it quite as well.

He must've laid awake for hours that night, staring up at his ceiling. He'd stare until the darkness started swimming; disjointed faces and teeth surfacing above him—then he'd shut his eyes for a while and just try to focus on sleeping. He knew it was just his imagination. He knew he was just paranoid. Regardless, sleep didn't come for a long time.

He dreamt, though, eventually. Cracked asphalt, endless roads—and of all things, the Neibolt house.

He woke up expecting to feel shaken, like when you wake from a particularly bad dream, but he felt kind of good actually. He didn't have an explanation for it but he also wasn't complaining.

He walked to the bathroom, feeling oddly well rested despite the lack of sleep. He paused when he caught his reflection. Do I have one? He wondered, searching all over his own face, like he might find it there. A "super power". A fond smile found his face as he thought about Richie's stupid name for it.

For now, Eddie just abandoned the search. He probably wouldn't find what he was looking for in a mirror.

After breakfast, his mom went into town to run some errands. Thankfully, she didn't beg him to come along.

Eddie just laid on the couch—the TV was on and playing reruns of one of his mom's shows, but it might as well have just been static. Eddie felt so out of place in his own house, and he couldn't place why.

He was worried about the Losers, maybe. Or maybe he just missed them. He hadn't heard from any of them yet, though he assumed they were probably doing exactly what he was doing—attempting to figure something out.

Eddie almost dozed off after a while until the phone rang; he scrambled to it, not a trace of drowsiness left on him. He was dreading to hear bad news.

"Eds?"

"Eddie." He corrected, a small grin tempting his lips as he waited for whatever stupid retaliation Richie had this time.

"Eds, can I come over?"

Eddie frowned. There was an urgency in Richie's voice that made him nervous. "What's wrong?"

"I need coffee," Richie whined on the other end. "My fucking coffee machine broke. I barely slept, please, Eds I'm dying."

Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't deny the relief that washed over him. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Why? Were you worried?"

Eddie couldn't even see his grin and he already wanted to smack it off.

"I'm starting the coffee, whether you come and drink some doesn't matter to me." Eddie snapped before hanging up.

Still, he made a quick detour to the front door to unlock it for him.

Eddie was waiting for the last few seconds left on the coffee maker when he glanced at the door. A second or two later, it opened, Richie dragging his feet inside.