"Happy birthday, Eddie!"
Eddie smiled at everyone around the table, incredibly grateful for all of his wonderful friends. He doesn't know where he would be without them. Certainly not in college, studying to be a psychologist . One of the best students in his major. Saludatorian of his class, set back by only his best friend of them all, Richie Tozier, who graduated as Valedictorian.
Now, Richie is standing next to him, raising his glass in the air and grinning at Eddie softly. "To Eds," he says, turning to look at everyone else in their group. Just as Eddie is about to interrupt with a casual "don't call me Eds," Richie is already speaking again. "To our newest addition to 21 club! Wow, Eddie Spaghetti," he's smiling at Eddie again, looking directly into his eyes. "I can't believe you can drink with us now! Since you were such a buzz kill about it. I mean, Ben here isn't even legal yet and he drinks on a daily basis. Aint that right, Haystack?"
"No," comes Ben's small, but firm voice.
"Well, that's just too bad, my good fella!" Richie is doing another one of his Voices, and Eddie makes direct eye contact with Stan, who looks just about ready to kill Richie. "A lovely chap like you 'ought to be out and about drinkin' on the daily! The daily, Haystack!"
"Beep beep, Richie," says Beverly, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. "Just finish off the toast already, I want to get this party rolling!"
Richie sighs, looking wounded, but he listens to Bev. He always does. "Fine, fine. To my dearest Eddie Spaghetti, the love of my life," he wipes a fake tear. "To Eddie!"
"To Eddie!" they all repeat, meeting each other's glasses in the middle of the circle.
----------
The next time Eddie looks at his watch, he sees it's already 10:07 PM, and he almost has an asthma attack. As he rushes off of the dancefloor of the bar, he feels someone following him and he turns around. It's Richie. Eddie turns back around and keeps walking.
"Where ya off to, Eds?" Richie asks in a casual enough voice, but if Eddie had been looking at him closely he would have seen the worry in his eyes. "You're leaving pretty early."
Eddie is slipping on his jacket in a hurried fashion, planning on talking to Richie once he's ready to go, but Richie grabs his wrist and forces Eddie to look at him. "I've got to get home," Eddie explains, yanking his arm out of Richie's grasp and finishing putting on his jacket. He looks at his watch again. 10:09. "Shit!"
"Eddie, calm down." The worry is in Richie's voice now. "Seriously, what's going on? Why do you have to be home already?"
"I -" Eddie is beyong stressed at this point, and he begins to search for his aspirator. By the time he finds it in his jacket pocket, his breathing is coming out in whistling breaths, and Richie is standing above him, his hands on Eddie's shoulders. He takes a puff from his aspirator and looks up at Richie, who's eyes are wide behing his big coke bottle glasses. Wide and brown and worried, those eyes are so worried. "I'm sorry, Rich, but I've got to be home, I -" he begins to stumble away from Richie's grip. Richie grabs onto his waist instead, leaning down closer to Eddie so that Eddie has to look into his eyes.
"Guh-guys?" Eddie's eyes get wide and the sound of Bill's voice, and he tries to get out of Richie's grip but his hands only tighten. No, no, no. Bill cannot be in on this conversation! He'll just stutter out his questions, and then get worried and his stutter will only get worse. Eddie doesn't have the time for that right now. "What's guh-going on?"
Richie doesn't look away from Eddie while he responds. "Eds here says he needs to go home."
"Wuh-what?" Bill looks at Eddie, who simply looks at his feet. "Why? Wuh-what's wrong, E-E-Eddie?"
"I need to go home," he says in small voice. Richie lifts his chin in his hands and stares into Eddie's eyes. It makes Eddie feel inferior, vulnerable. He knows the worst of that feeling is yet to come, because when he gets home he's in for it. Really in for it. Eddie whimpers. "I don't wanna go," he says so quietly that not even Richie, who is bending over so far and so close to Eddie that he can smell the alcohol on Richie's breath, heard what he said.
"Eddie, why do you need to go home?"
"Is it J-Juh-Jake again?"
Eddie closes his eyes and nods. "Yeah, I need to go home. I- I promised Jake I would be home by 10, but it's like fifteen past and it takes me me ten minutes to get there. He," (He'll be so mad) he sniffled, opening his eys. It seemed like Richie had only gotten closer. "We were supposed to have a romantic dinner and everything. The food - it'll be cold now." He looked at Bill. "I hate cold food."
"That's why you look like you're about to cry?" Richie says, seeming to not believe him. But then he stands up all the way and starts to laugh. "Jeezum crow, Eds, you scared me!" He shakes his head, a small fond smile on his face. "You better get going then, Eddie Spaghetti. Can't keep your man waiting!"
Eddie doesn't have the energy to smile, so he just rushes off with a quick "thank you."
----------
His stomach is filled with dread, and his hands are shaking. He can't seem to get the key into the hole, and he curses underneath his breath each time he misses. Before he can try for the seventh time, the door swings open and he's met face to face with his boyfriend. "Eddie," he greets, and he looks mad. He looks so mad. Eddie might cry.
"Jake, I'm so sorry." He feels that maybe this is a good start. And it's also his 21st birthday, so maybe Jake will go easy on him. "I lost track of time, and then on the way here, there was traffic, and I... I'm so sorry."
Jake doesn't say anything at first, and for some reason this scares Eddie even more. He wonders why Jake is being so calm. Instead of worrying too much, Eddie follows his into the kitchen. Jake pours him a glass of water and hands it to him silently. While Eddie is pretending to drink (he's too stressed to drink right now he's too stressed to drink right now he's too stressed to drink right now) Jake eye's him up and down.
"You wore those shorts?" he asks, turning back to the fridge.
Eddie looks down at his shorts. They're his favorite pair, red and short and they make his legs look good. "Yes," he answers meekly.
"Hmm," Jake drinks from his own water glass. He looks at Eddie for a little while, then sets down his now empty glass of water. "So what you're saying to me, is that a pretty little boy like you," even in his anger, Jake finds himself looking at Eddie's thighs, "wore those slutty little shorts on a night out? When, let me see, you probably drank. Then you -" Jake laughs without humor. "You lost track of time? How did you manage to do that, Eddie?"
"I.. I don't know," Eddie lies. He does know. He was having fun.
"You don't know?" At this, Jake looks mad. It's the first time he's looked mad at Eddie in almost a week. He steps closer to Eddie and puts his hands on his waist. It's not nearly as gentle as Richie's hands had been. He'll probably have bruises there the next day. A nice, big purple bruise on either side of waist. He whimpers. "Probably too busy getting drunk," Jake sneers, pushing Eddie backwards until his back is flush against the refridgerator, the handle pushing into his back. He grunts. That's another bruise to add to the collection of ones he knows he'll be getting tonight. Jake pushes harder. "Is that true, huh? Were you too busy drinking?"
"No, Jake, I wasn't," he cries out, his shoulder blades aching from the handle in his back. "I promise, I wasn't!"
Jake grins, leaning into Eddie so they're flush against each other. "You promise?" Eddie gulps, closing his eyes. He knows what's coming, and he's really set himself up for it now. "Is that so," Jake is so close now. So, so close, and Eddie feels like maybe he'll vomit. Before that happens, Jake is kissing him. Eddie can feel his toungue licking around in his mouth, on the roof, the sides. Everywhere. He feels disgusting. But then Jake starts kissing him normally, and Eddie thinks maybe he's gotten away this time. It was only a shot, after all, and it was a long time ago. At the beginning of the evening. Maybe him and Jake will just celebrate his birthday and then have a nice, long rest -
"Ah!" Eddie almost screams at the surprise pain in his stomach.
He punched me, Eddie thinks. He punched me and now I'm really in for it. I was late, and I lied. I deserve this one. "You lied to me, Eddie," he says, his face still close. With the second punch to the stomach, he begins to slide down the refridgerator door. Jake goes in for another punch, and this one hits him on his left eye, causing him to bite his lip so hard it starts to bleed. A kick to the stomach. By this point Eddie is lying on the ground, crying into his hands. "Eddie," Jake says, and his voice sounds like a warning. "Get up."
Eddie doesn't move, just cries harder and looks up at Jake though wet eyelashes. "I can't," he sobs, and he can feel the snot running down his face. "Jake, I said I was sorry -"
Jake is putting his hand underneath Eddie's arms and lifting him up. Eddie is reminded of how big Jake is. He stands at a solid 6'5, a whole foot taller than Eddie, and he's wider by nearly a foot on either side. He's made of pure muscle, and Eddie looks like a child standing next to him. At first glance, he looks sweet and charming, like a big teddy bear, and Eddie knows he's gotten to close to Jake, because Jake hasn't been nice to him like that in a long time. He just loves me, Eddie thinks. He just really loves me, that's all. He cares.
That's what Eddie tells himself as he's practically thrown against the counter, his spine hitting the corner.
He just loves me, Eddie thinks as he gets punched in the nose.
He just loves me, Eddie thinks as he gets kicked in the stomach, the legs, and even nearly choked at one point when he asked Jake to stop.
He just loves me, Eddie thinks as Jake picks him up and carried him up the stairs to their room.
He just loves me, Eddie thinks as he's placed gently on the bed, barely aware.
He just loves me, Eddie thinks as he's handed a glass of water.
He just loves me a lot.