you know what--- ( sharp, quick, angry. then silence, nothing from him for a moment. )i'm not going anywhere
what i'd fucking like to do is go talk this through with my girlfriend and my boyfriend, the two of you, before i smoke this weed all by myself to cope
it hasn't been lit( he really feels like a criminal.
to jem: )yeah, ok
( eddie's waiting for them inside the greenhouse; he's a good ways in, seated on a bench in front of a full grown marijuana plant and a plot of wet dirt. in front of the bench is a small table, there's a bowl of dried buds next to some pages out of a journal that eddie's using to roll more joints. he needs to figure out a way to grind the stuff because the mortar and pestal he's using isn't going to cut it for the whole stash.
he hasn't smoked any, but he's tempted but he's trying to prove a goddamn point now. the crease between his brows is deep and he's focused, trying not to glance toward the door closest to the shack where billy and jem are likely to come in through. whoever gets to him first gets a joint and matches for their troubles, he's not trying for a kiss hello when he feels ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration and is probably radiating it off of himself in waves. )
[ Jem catches Billy on the way in, his mouth an unhappy slash and it's clear, immediately, that he's not fucking talking. Why? Because what's he gonna say that he hasn't already said? They don't like when he talks about their dumbshit idiot choices, or sorry, the choices they make that he thinks are dumbshit idiot choices, because as far as he's concerned, they are.
But the greenhouse is always shockingly warm given the chill outside. Billy really couldn't care less about plants and growing things (except for the part where weed's a plant), but he likes the greenhouse for its warmth, for how much it feels tucked away from winter.
It's childish to ignore Eddie. Billy splits from Jem to walk up a line of greenhouse plants, stopping near enough to peer at the queen herself, the biggest plant, magicked along. His eyes flick to Eddie's little processing spot, the dried bud, his notebook, the promised joint. If Eddie's radiating waves of frustration, Billy meets them in turn. ]
[Yesterday, they had the worst fight of their whole relationship. It wasn’t even about Danny. Today, Jem just wants to melt.
Her eyes roll behind Billy. She follows him in, tugs the straps of her overalls off as she walks - steps out of them as she goes - and says, to Billy: ] Trousers off.
[To Eddie, she says: ] Light up. The faster we’re stoned, the better.
( there’s a childish urge to get up and to storm off, to take the weed and leave them with the bare plant; the rest of the dried goods are locked away anyway. the urge gets stronger when billy stomps over but jem’s voice breaks through and eddie finds himself just too goddamn tired for it.
he wants to be asleep, wants to not feel like any moment the other shoe is going to drop and someone he cares about is dead, having a tantrum, or is possessed. maybe it hadn’t done anything for jem but stephen sure seemed on to something. except —- except now there was no guarantee anyone would wake up from it.
he reaches for a joint, picks it up and lights up. and on that first inhale, fuck, he thinks he might cry because there was a part of him that even though he’d sampled earlier; the first time he was goddamn sure somehow chthulu fucked them over with the seeds even though the plant looks right. still, the sound he makes is close to a little moan as he holds the smoke in his lungs, then exhales and takes another hit. yeah, it’s the real shit. the good stuff.
he holds the joint out, doesn’t really care who takes it as he watches jem and billy do their thing. ) It’s good shit.
( but even if it wasn’t, it’s all they have. it’s better than nothing. )
[ He doesn't really want to turn down weed. He also doesn't really want to turn down Jem... or Eddie. He doesn't want to. It feels like he keeps having to, because he won't bend. Doesn't think he should. Not on this.
He drags his leather trousers down, all the way. His shirt's still on, but open as he and Jem settle on the couch that's been dragged out into the greenhouse. Her overalls slump down into a pile on the ground as he tugs her into his lap, hand idling over his own dick. He's still pretty pissed. The horny will come. For now, his other hand settles on her hip, thumb rubbing against her hip bone as his attention finally rolls over to Eddie, nose twitching at the homey scent of marijuana. God. Eddie sucks it in, breathes it out in a cloud of bliss. Billy yearns.
His thumb rubs over Jim's hip again: ] Who grew it?
'Sides you. [ Eddie had said, but... Well, Billy got mad and didn't retain all that. ]
[Jem settles on his lap like an oversized koala, or a dog, or really anything at all except a human. She wraps an arm around his shoulder, she almost bends to bury her face in his neck. That can wait.
She takes the blunt from Eddie, maybe the safest option here, and takes a long, long drag. She holds it in her lungs for a long time, and then tips her head back and exhales in blissblissbliss. It’s good, but it’s the first hit of something real that she’s had in months. It burns beautifully; it warms her up from the inside out.
She presses the blunt to Billy’s mouth, then turns to Eddie, says, so matter of factly:] I want you inside of me too, while we smoke.
[A month ago she’d had been dying at this demand. Now it’s this thing she needs, sometimes, when she’s feeling stressed. Connection, fullness. It’s not even about fucking, really; it’s mostly about having them there, inside, with her. ]
Sweeney sped things up. ( Stephen helped with the whole drying process but that's not what Billy asked and Eddie's used to not talking about the whole process when it comes to weed; it's better that they don't know, that it's hush-hush. Sure, the cop he'd most be worried about is also sometimes making Eddie breakfast but that's details. )
You're lucky I decided to keep lube out here, princess. ( it's teasing, almost, but slow and languid. Eddie doesn't judge her for something he wants to, for the closeness of being inside of Jem and close to Billy in a way he can't describe. it's more than physical, yeah, and it's not the smoke in the air that's making him warm. not only. the thought of them too.
he pulls the vial of lube out from his back pocket, moves behind Jem with one hand on her hip and another on Billy's thigh. the couch is too narrow, the position awkward at this angle and Eddie's not about to squat unless they turn on the couch or lay down. he kisses Jem's shoulder, ) You guys gonna help me out with that before you start shotgunning the goods without me?
[ It's Billy's turn next and he nearly blacks out when the familiar taste hits his mouth, familiar weight fills up his lungs. He's full to bursting immediately and he holds it in, holds it in until he's sure it's going to hit his bloodstream like a train, and then slowly, so slowly, lets it spill out from his nose.
He likes Quentin's cigarettes. Likes the calm, the horny, but weed.
The last bit curls out over his lip like a long-lost lover when his eyes narrow over Jem's shoulder. He wasn't listening. ] What?
[ Something, something fucking, something, something shotgunning. He presses the joint back to her mouth as his hand runs down Jem's stomach, hand curling between her thighs, palm sliding against her mound and fingers against her folds. She's wet, she'll be a lot wetter soon, and he thinks she can take him just fine as is. That she'll love it.
His fingers are wet with her slick when his arm wraps around her so he can grip into the meat of her ass. His fingers sweep the slick over her hole as he takes hold of his dick with his other hand and guides the head to her cunt. ]
[There's the joint in her mouth and Billy's dick at her hole, and in between them Eddie's tone is slow to filter through. Billy's only marginally pushing in when it registers, makes sense, and she hiccups through a gasp to take the joint in hand instead and say: ] Baby, you need to lie down for us, or move to the other side.
[She's gentle when she guides Billy's chin up to look at her. She kisses his nose. ] C'mon, Eddie needs room. [This, of course, is torture to ask of him when he's got the head of his dick pressed into her, and Eddie's so warm at her back, could just as easily slip a hand down to join him. ]
( they paint such a pretty picture, wrapped up in each other. sometimes Eddie wonders if he's intruding, if it's cruel to ask them to wait and break apart to make room for him. but Jem's tone is gentle and insistent, reminds him that there's room for him -- that it's the three of them in this.
the smoke's filtering around them, making things slower. Eddie hasn't gotten a hit yet so he steals the joint from Jem's hand to breathe in the familiar heaviness that settles in his lungs. they've rearranged by the time he's breathing out the smoke, tapping ash off the end of the joint. Billy's on his back, Jem on top of him and Eddie settles in behind her with a hand on his own cock, pants undone. he reaches between Jem's legs, traces the place where Billy's slipped back inside and presses the tip of his finger inside of her -- teasing, slow.
Eddie's wet enough himself, cockhead leaking, but Jem's slick on his skin always does it for him -- is hot as fuck as he watches Billy's cock slip inside her cunt. he guides his own cockhead to press beside his, to slip into Jem and give her what she aches for, whines for as they fall asleep in each other arms; it's familiar now, the feeling of Billy pressed against him inside of Jem's heat.) Fuck.
[ Billy's still sullen, stuck in his mood from Eddie's near weed-and-serial-killer betrayal. But he goes along with Jem's urging, laying down more fully on the couch and sighing when he settles and pushes the fat head of his dick back against her cunt, slowly pushing in until he's sheathed in her hot, wet heat. She's a warm comforting weight on his hips, sweet too where she braces on his shoulders. He loops an arm around her neck as the other settles on her ass, fingers digging into the flesh there, holding her flush against him as Eddie's cock bullies in too.
It makes Jem quake in his arms, but it makes Billy's breath catch too. Jem's the one getting fucked, the one getting stretched, a perfect little hole for the two of them to make a home in, but Eddie's cock still bares down on Billy, the pressure larger than life and consuming. And he has less mobility as he pants, licks sweat off her neck and feels the long-awaited high start to rock through him. ]
[Embarrassingly, she almost passes the fuck out. The sensation of being stretched and being so full nearly whites her out, eyes rolling back, lashes fluttering, hands digging into Billy for dear life. It hurts in a familiar way. A dull ache, but it feels so fucking good, too. It feels too good, and that're not even moving. Like her body's been rewired to accept that this step is part of the pleasure too.
Belatedly, she realises she's made a truly pornographic moan, vision blurred when her eyes open and her head has tilted down, voice murmuring, over and over: ] Yesyesyes, fuckfuck - fuck.
[She's a little embarrassed about that too, even though she asked for this, so what does it matter than they know how fucking desperate she is for it? It's not even about fucking; it's always about having them as close as she get. As inside of her as they can get without her tearing open her own chest to make room.
She can't move much, as speared as she is. The small shift of her hips sends a thrill up her spine, a little ache and pull. Her arms are shaking with the effort of staying up, thighs too. ]
( by the time he's bullied in half-way, there's a sheen of sweat on Eddie's skin and it's hard to breathe. Jem's so goddamn tight that each time they do this, Eddie's sure that they won't fit inside of her until he's in as far as the position will let him go and panting against the back of her neck.
there's soft praise mumbled against her skin, against the hair sticking there. she's doing so good, she feel so fucking good. Billy too, cock pressed against his own and just right. Eddie can't breathe his head's spinning from pleasure but he doesn't want anything else; doesn't want to be anywhere else.
he's an arm around Jem's waist, a hand on Billy's bicep and how they haven't tumbled off the damn couch is a wonder but he's not questioning it. ) Jesus Christ-- you-- fuck, you're perfect.
( he pants against hot skin, to Jem and Billy at the same time even if they're pissed at him still. the weed's hitting and he feels that warm lull nearly as much as the pleasure, the overwhelming pressure and warmth of Jem's body adjusting to them all over again. the side of Jem's neck that's not lathered in Billy's attention earns his, a press of his teeth to the tendon there over a fading mark. they're supposed to talk but, fuck, Eddie's not sure they'll manage that when it's hard to stay still, to not tremble and move. )
[ It's a different kind of overwhelm, a new familiarity that's still new enough it threatens to make him blackout from the pressure, the pleasure. He's still mad, but Billy's so used to being mad that he can put it away for now, focus instead on the way Jem's shaking, panting, moaning, mewling above him, how he's panting too, pathetic little gasps and grunts as Eddie pushes in, fucking him too.
It's hard for him to move too, their bodies a calming, heavy weight on top of him. His hips jerk up, plugging Jem up, dragging against Eddie, and he wonders if this is how he dies, from coming too hard with them both pressed close.
He thinks Eddie's talking to Jem, and he offers up praise too. Soft mumbles against her throat, his lips kissing there, teeth dragging. The arm around Jem's shoulders reaches up to gather around the two of them, fingers scrabbling against the back of Eddie's neck. ]
Put your back into it, Munson. [ His voice betrays how overwhelming this is. ]
Mmmm - we're supposed to be talking this out. [This may have backfired. She wants them to move; to go slow, to go fast, to plow in until she's sobbing against Billy's chest telling him how much she loves him, needs him, how he's so important to them both.
Her breath hitches, arms still shaking with the effort of leaning on them. Her whole body feels a little like it's trembling, really. ] Talk first, then - then move.
O-okay. ( he can do that, he thinks. maybe. it’s really hard not to move, not to sink back and then slide into Jem’s wet heat and to feel Billy straining up against him, against them.
he wants them both, forgets what they’re supposed to be talking about for a moment and pants against the side of Jem’s neck. ) I’m not— I’m not going anywhere else tonight. I don’t want— you’re important. Both of you.
( he shouldn’t have teased, shouldn’t have invoked Danny when shit is complicated and fragile. he doesn’t want to upset anyone — wants Billy to know he cares. )
[ The problem is: he doesn't actually want to talk, had to be coaxed back here with the promise of weed and the promise that Eddie was just being a fucking asshole. He doesn't actually want to say anything, and he nips hard at Jem's shoulder, dragging his teeth against her skin there, worrying a fresh new mark.
Jem's right though, sort of, he will talk once he's stoned. Sort of. Weird though, to talk about serial killer morality while you're rock hard in your girlfriend and you're waiting for your boyfriend/situationship/matrimonial companion lover (?) to fuck her too.
It's been a long, long time since he's gotten stoned. Probably what, a week before he died? Before that thing got into him? After work when the pool was closed, so the high could hit and he wouldn't drag the smell home. It's hitting hard and heavy, his mouth feels slow. ] You don't even give a shit, [ he complains. ] You said they were your merry little band of world savers, and you don't even give a shit.
[ Wheeler wasn't his friend, and Billy can't remember if he ever once spoke to Byers. Steve wasn't his friend either, but Billy's thoughts flow like molasses, and he's pretty sure if you asked him, he could count Harrington's freckles, his moles, from too many side-ways looks in the locker room. ]
( in hindsight, this may be a terrible idea. it’s hard to focus on anything than the way Billy’s words slur, the little hitch to Jem’s breathing as Eddie keeps a steady hand on her side and glides his fingers along where their names are tattooed on her ribs.
the weed’s hitting quick and Eddie hasn’t smoked in ages either; since before he died, since he was holed up in Rick’s little boathouse praying to any entity out there that he fucking made it out alive and look what good that did. then again, he has this. he had them. even if it’s not fucking easy at least he’s trying; putting in more effort than he’d ever seen Al put in.
Billy complains and Eddie opens his mouth to snap back but the weed his his tongue heavy, so he takes a breath instead. he doesn’t snap back, say his name, though he remembers doing it when Murphy’s monster had its claws in him. the weed makes him too slow, too fluid. the weight of their bodies makes it safe. his voice is a little slurred, his words slow and confused instead of angry. ) Who said I don’t care? I give a shit.
It’s just not — It’s not that simple. ( because it’s the wrong Wheeler that would have Eddie enraged and Harrington? Harrington’s proven to be way different than Eddie thought, a real hero. But — but Danny risked his life too, died for it when Eddie meant jack shit to him instead of being baggage added to the freshman Harrington was following. It would be different if Henderson had been with Danny in the fog, Eddie thinks. It’d be more complicated, the depths of him harder to reconcile. ) The only reason I haven’t been spider food yet is because Danny also happened to give a shit.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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for me
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no one's replacing you
come here
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oh i'd love to see you lose it. come on, munson, don't tell unless you're gonna show! if i make you mad enough you gonna go cry about it to your girl?
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what i'd fucking like to do is go talk this through with my girlfriend and my boyfriend, the two of you, before i smoke this weed all by myself to cope
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[ To Jem, privately: ] maybe.
[ To both: ] if i smell his spit on it i'm going to fucking strangle you. and i'm not fucking talking.
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[ to eddie, on her way out of the shack door, down the short way to the greenhouse door: ]
he'll talk once he's stoned
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to jem: ) yeah, ok
( eddie's waiting for them inside the greenhouse; he's a good ways in, seated on a bench in front of a full grown marijuana plant and a plot of wet dirt. in front of the bench is a small table, there's a bowl of dried buds next to some pages out of a journal that eddie's using to roll more joints. he needs to figure out a way to grind the stuff because the mortar and pestal he's using isn't going to cut it for the whole stash.
he hasn't smoked any, but he's tempted but he's trying to prove a goddamn point now. the crease between his brows is deep and he's focused, trying not to glance toward the door closest to the shack where billy and jem are likely to come in through. whoever gets to him first gets a joint and matches for their troubles, he's not trying for a kiss hello when he feels ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration and is probably radiating it off of himself in waves. )
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But the greenhouse is always shockingly warm given the chill outside. Billy really couldn't care less about plants and growing things (except for the part where weed's a plant), but he likes the greenhouse for its warmth, for how much it feels tucked away from winter.
It's childish to ignore Eddie. Billy splits from Jem to walk up a line of greenhouse plants, stopping near enough to peer at the queen herself, the biggest plant, magicked along. His eyes flick to Eddie's little processing spot, the dried bud, his notebook, the promised joint. If Eddie's radiating waves of frustration, Billy meets them in turn. ]
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Her eyes roll behind Billy. She follows him in, tugs the straps of her overalls off as she walks - steps out of them as she goes - and says, to Billy: ] Trousers off.
[To Eddie, she says: ] Light up. The faster we’re stoned, the better.
cw: suicidal ideation, drug use
he wants to be asleep, wants to not feel like any moment the other shoe is going to drop and someone he cares about is dead, having a tantrum, or is possessed. maybe it hadn’t done anything for jem but stephen sure seemed on to something. except —- except now there was no guarantee anyone would wake up from it.
he reaches for a joint, picks it up and lights up. and on that first inhale, fuck, he thinks he might cry because there was a part of him that even though he’d sampled earlier; the first time he was goddamn sure somehow chthulu fucked them over with the seeds even though the plant looks right. still, the sound he makes is close to a little moan as he holds the smoke in his lungs, then exhales and takes another hit. yeah, it’s the real shit. the good stuff.
he holds the joint out, doesn’t really care who takes it as he watches jem and billy do their thing. ) It’s good shit.
( but even if it wasn’t, it’s all they have. it’s better than nothing. )
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He drags his leather trousers down, all the way. His shirt's still on, but open as he and Jem settle on the couch that's been dragged out into the greenhouse. Her overalls slump down into a pile on the ground as he tugs her into his lap, hand idling over his own dick. He's still pretty pissed. The horny will come. For now, his other hand settles on her hip, thumb rubbing against her hip bone as his attention finally rolls over to Eddie, nose twitching at the homey scent of marijuana. God. Eddie sucks it in, breathes it out in a cloud of bliss. Billy yearns.
His thumb rubs over Jim's hip again: ] Who grew it?
'Sides you. [ Eddie had said, but... Well, Billy got mad and didn't retain all that. ]
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She takes the blunt from Eddie, maybe the safest option here, and takes a long, long drag. She holds it in her lungs for a long time, and then tips her head back and exhales in blissblissbliss. It’s good, but it’s the first hit of something real that she’s had in months. It burns beautifully; it warms her up from the inside out.
She presses the blunt to Billy’s mouth, then turns to Eddie, says, so matter of factly:] I want you inside of me too, while we smoke.
[A month ago she’d had been dying at this demand. Now it’s this thing she needs, sometimes, when she’s feeling stressed. Connection, fullness. It’s not even about fucking, really; it’s mostly about having them there, inside, with her. ]
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You're lucky I decided to keep lube out here, princess. ( it's teasing, almost, but slow and languid. Eddie doesn't judge her for something he wants to, for the closeness of being inside of Jem and close to Billy in a way he can't describe. it's more than physical, yeah, and it's not the smoke in the air that's making him warm. not only. the thought of them too.
he pulls the vial of lube out from his back pocket, moves behind Jem with one hand on her hip and another on Billy's thigh. the couch is too narrow, the position awkward at this angle and Eddie's not about to squat unless they turn on the couch or lay down. he kisses Jem's shoulder, ) You guys gonna help me out with that before you start shotgunning the goods without me?
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He likes Quentin's cigarettes. Likes the calm, the horny, but weed.
The last bit curls out over his lip like a long-lost lover when his eyes narrow over Jem's shoulder. He wasn't listening. ] What?
[ Something, something fucking, something, something shotgunning. He presses the joint back to her mouth as his hand runs down Jem's stomach, hand curling between her thighs, palm sliding against her mound and fingers against her folds. She's wet, she'll be a lot wetter soon, and he thinks she can take him just fine as is. That she'll love it.
His fingers are wet with her slick when his arm wraps around her so he can grip into the meat of her ass. His fingers sweep the slick over her hole as he takes hold of his dick with his other hand and guides the head to her cunt. ]
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[She's gentle when she guides Billy's chin up to look at her. She kisses his nose. ] C'mon, Eddie needs room. [This, of course, is torture to ask of him when he's got the head of his dick pressed into her, and Eddie's so warm at her back, could just as easily slip a hand down to join him. ]
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the smoke's filtering around them, making things slower. Eddie hasn't gotten a hit yet so he steals the joint from Jem's hand to breathe in the familiar heaviness that settles in his lungs. they've rearranged by the time he's breathing out the smoke, tapping ash off the end of the joint. Billy's on his back, Jem on top of him and Eddie settles in behind her with a hand on his own cock, pants undone. he reaches between Jem's legs, traces the place where Billy's slipped back inside and presses the tip of his finger inside of her -- teasing, slow.
Eddie's wet enough himself, cockhead leaking, but Jem's slick on his skin always does it for him -- is hot as fuck as he watches Billy's cock slip inside her cunt. he guides his own cockhead to press beside his, to slip into Jem and give her what she aches for, whines for as they fall asleep in each other arms; it's familiar now, the feeling of Billy pressed against him inside of Jem's heat.) Fuck.
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It makes Jem quake in his arms, but it makes Billy's breath catch too. Jem's the one getting fucked, the one getting stretched, a perfect little hole for the two of them to make a home in, but Eddie's cock still bares down on Billy, the pressure larger than life and consuming. And he has less mobility as he pants, licks sweat off her neck and feels the long-awaited high start to rock through him. ]
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Belatedly, she realises she's made a truly pornographic moan, vision blurred when her eyes open and her head has tilted down, voice murmuring, over and over: ] Yesyesyes, fuckfuck - fuck.
[She's a little embarrassed about that too, even though she asked for this, so what does it matter than they know how fucking desperate she is for it? It's not even about fucking; it's always about having them as close as she get. As inside of her as they can get without her tearing open her own chest to make room.
She can't move much, as speared as she is. The small shift of her hips sends a thrill up her spine, a little ache and pull. Her arms are shaking with the effort of staying up, thighs too. ]
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there's soft praise mumbled against her skin, against the hair sticking there. she's doing so good, she feel so fucking good. Billy too, cock pressed against his own and just right. Eddie can't breathe his head's spinning from pleasure but he doesn't want anything else; doesn't want to be anywhere else.
he's an arm around Jem's waist, a hand on Billy's bicep and how they haven't tumbled off the damn couch is a wonder but he's not questioning it. ) Jesus Christ-- you-- fuck, you're perfect.
( he pants against hot skin, to Jem and Billy at the same time even if they're pissed at him still. the weed's hitting and he feels that warm lull nearly as much as the pleasure, the overwhelming pressure and warmth of Jem's body adjusting to them all over again. the side of Jem's neck that's not lathered in Billy's attention earns his, a press of his teeth to the tendon there over a fading mark. they're supposed to talk but, fuck, Eddie's not sure they'll manage that when it's hard to stay still, to not tremble and move. )
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It's hard for him to move too, their bodies a calming, heavy weight on top of him. His hips jerk up, plugging Jem up, dragging against Eddie, and he wonders if this is how he dies, from coming too hard with them both pressed close.
He thinks Eddie's talking to Jem, and he offers up praise too. Soft mumbles against her throat, his lips kissing there, teeth dragging. The arm around Jem's shoulders reaches up to gather around the two of them, fingers scrabbling against the back of Eddie's neck. ]
Put your back into it, Munson. [ His voice betrays how overwhelming this is. ]
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Her breath hitches, arms still shaking with the effort of leaning on them. Her whole body feels a little like it's trembling, really. ] Talk first, then - then move.
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he wants them both, forgets what they’re supposed to be talking about for a moment and pants against the side of Jem’s neck. ) I’m not— I’m not going anywhere else tonight. I don’t want— you’re important. Both of you.
( he shouldn’t have teased, shouldn’t have invoked Danny when shit is complicated and fragile. he doesn’t want to upset anyone — wants Billy to know he cares. )
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Jem's right though, sort of, he will talk once he's stoned. Sort of. Weird though, to talk about serial killer morality while you're rock hard in your girlfriend and you're waiting for
your boyfriend/situationship/matrimonial companionlover (?) to fuck her too.It's been a long, long time since he's gotten stoned. Probably what, a week before he died? Before that thing got into him? After work when the pool was closed, so the high could hit and he wouldn't drag the smell home. It's hitting hard and heavy, his mouth feels slow. ] You don't even give a shit, [ he complains. ] You said they were your merry little band of world savers, and you don't even give a shit.
[ Wheeler wasn't his friend, and Billy can't remember if he ever once spoke to Byers. Steve wasn't his friend either, but Billy's thoughts flow like molasses, and he's pretty sure if you asked him, he could count Harrington's freckles, his moles, from too many side-ways looks in the locker room. ]
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the weed’s hitting quick and Eddie hasn’t smoked in ages either; since before he died, since he was holed up in Rick’s little boathouse praying to any entity out there that he fucking made it out alive and look what good that did. then again, he has this. he had them. even if it’s not fucking easy at least he’s trying; putting in more effort than he’d ever seen Al put in.
Billy complains and Eddie opens his mouth to snap back but the weed his his tongue heavy, so he takes a breath instead. he doesn’t snap back, say his name, though he remembers doing it when Murphy’s monster had its claws in him. the weed makes him too slow, too fluid. the weight of their bodies makes it safe. his voice is a little slurred, his words slow and confused instead of angry. ) Who said I don’t care? I give a shit.
It’s just not — It’s not that simple. ( because it’s the wrong Wheeler that would have Eddie enraged and Harrington? Harrington’s proven to be way different than Eddie thought, a real hero. But — but Danny risked his life too, died for it when Eddie meant jack shit to him instead of being baggage added to the freshman Harrington was following. It would be different if Henderson had been with Danny in the fog, Eddie thinks. It’d be more complicated, the depths of him harder to reconcile. ) The only reason I haven’t been spider food yet is because Danny also happened to give a shit.
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