Chapter Text
Blue. Yellow. Red. Blue. Yellow. More blue. Through that car window, life was a blur of three colours, becoming nothing but primary colours blending with one another. Or, well, maybe Bill's poetry bullshit was going to his head. Which was far more likely.
Back in middle school, when Eddie read his medications information leaflets, Bill was already writing sonnets, trying to copy Baudelaire's style without actually understanding a word. Now, he wrote actual books and stories, he has that worn-out and ripped notebook, it's like he's an actual writer, it kinda feels like being friends with John Green -once, he said so to Bill and the fucker stopped talking to him for three entire days. Eddie assumes that the apocalypse is a great muse because, these days, Bill seems to never be able to stop writing. And Eddie can't understand. Of course, he is aware that there is a lot to write about, they live in a new reality. But he can't understand the point of writing, really. Isn't the aim of writing to change the world and its mentalities? In a period of time where the world doesn't even exist any more, how do you expect to change it? But, he still religiously read every poem Bill wrote, because that's what best friends are for.
“Eddie, we're go-gonna stop here, is it o-okay?” Bill said, turning the engine down.
“Yeah, yeah, do your thing.” He trusted Bill with, basically, everything, they've been friends for 20 years. He couldn't have chosen someone better than his best friend to live this journey with. Back when all this started, they were in Seattle together, living in their shared apartment near university. Immediately after they realised it was serious, all this zombie bullshit, like, really serious, like half-of-the-planet-died serious, Bill freaked the fuck out and decided to go on a little spontaneous road trip to Derry, Maine, in order to reunite with his brother. And Eddie followed him without question, not because he wanted to see his mother, still living in Derry, he clearly didn't give a fuck, but because Bill was all he had, all he has, really.
Technically, going to Derry should have taken them four days, but driving through this world had become near impossible: everything was a danger, a risk they were taking. First, finding gas was a hassle, roads were sometimes blocked or too dangerous, infested by living corpses. Crossing paths with other survivors was slowly becoming their greatest fear: this situation made people snap, they were animals, Hobbes was really fucking right, without a contract to keep them on track, men followed the law of the strongest. Humanity was a social construct after all. All these shitty things combined meant that it has been 6 months since the start of this mess and 2 months since they left Seattle, and they only were a little more than half way to Maine. They've been meeting less and less new people as the time passed, and it was, consequently, more and more depressing, even if seeing others was synonym of danger, it still gave them a certain sense of normalcy, of hope.
“E-Eddie? Are y-you not g-getting out?” Bill asked, opening his own door and slowly balancing his legs out of the car.
“Yeah, sorry, I am.” He got out of the car himself, trying not to make too much noise. They were in some kind of clearing. Again. Everything was trees, and grass, and deafening silence. Sleeping in Bill's retail car, that he bought back when they were 16, had become a routine, one he absolutely despised at that. As he constantly had to remind himself, Eddie trusted Bill with his own life, he absolutely believed that his decisions were the right ones, but, sometimes, he really didn't know why he was putting himself through this. Okay, he loved Bill, and Georgie was the sweetest teenager he had ever met and was like a brother to him, but... he didn't have a reason of his own to go back to Derry. He couldn't help but wonder what the situation was like, back in Seattle. Maybe, if he had stayed there, he wouldn't have to sit patiently alongside Bill 8 hours a day, driving through meadows and forests and ghost towns so perfectly still they felt like a film set. He wouldn't have to sleep cramped up in a car and desperately search for abandoned buildings to find something to eat. Fuck, maybe he could even take a shower everyday.
“Hey, whu-what are you thinking about?” asked Bill, a gentle smile on his face and his crystal blue eyes full of concern. “You seem a b-bit off these days, you o-okay?
And damn, Bill went on and reminded him how much he loved him. That's the thing when you only had one real friend in all your life, one and only person you fought the world (more like bullies and shitty parents) with, no matter what, you love them more than anything, and, even if you have to sacrifice your daily showers, you'd follow them through hell itself (and, all things considered, this world seemed worse than hell).
“Nothing. Don't worry about it,” said Eddie, shaking lightly his head. “So, we're going to sleep here?”
“Yeah, think s-so. But we ha-have to go and f-find supplies tomorrow, we can't po-postpone it forever.”
“Oh, really, now, you know that-”
“Yeah,” interrupted Bill. “I know y-you hate it, 'it's like so d-dangerous and reckless B-B-Bill, do you realise?'," he added, mimicking Eddie's voice and making quotation marks with his fingers. “I realise, okay? But it's not like there's another wuh-way.” His tone was harsh, finalising, didn't leave room for an answer.
Well, that was great, simply amazing. Bill could throw a fit if he wanted to but Eddie didn't need his best friend mad at him at this exact moment, when the two of them were alone in the middle of the barbaric state that was Oklahoma. Or maybe was it Kansas? All the same to him. He couldn't believe that was what his life had come to, but, as Bill so nicely said, he didn't have a choice. He had to go on and do the exact same thing he did every single goddamn day: clear the area, conceal their presence, sleep.
***
The car was stuttering as much as Big Bill used to in 5th grade, they were desperately trying to ignore it, but it was becoming more and more complicated when they were going at 20mph/h on a deserted road.
“Let's t-try here.” He indicated an old warehouse on the side of the road with a nod of his head. An old warehouse. That probably was the worst thing Eddie could have imagined: an entire place full of potential diseases and dangers. Didn't Bill ever think before acting? Rust and corpses and toxic liquids everywhere, it was the worst idea. Obviously, he couldn't say so to him, not after Bill's little scene the night before.
“Yeah. Amazing,” he absent-mindedly said. To be honest, he really was not excited to die, but it was going to happen in, like, ten minutes, so you know, he had to get used to the idea all that. Bill was lucky he loved him, Eddie Kaspbrak was not prepared to die for just anyone.
After Bill parked behind the warehouse, making sure they were concealed by the building to eventual by-passers, they immediately got out of the car and started their journey to their really obvious and stupid death. As they got to the entrance, a heavy rusty metal door that Bill pushed like it wasn't full of potential diseases, Eddie realised how reckless they were being. Anything, anything, could happen: hundreds of workers could have been trapped during the peak of the apocalypse, making this place a literal zombies HQ. Or, even worse, some apocalypse pirates, whatever they called themselves, could have decided to use this building as an all-around camping site. There was also a big chance that they were going to catch something in that rusty, dusty, dirty place. All that, and the one hundred and fifty others possibilities he didn't try to think about, resulted in one thing: a painful and deeply stupid death.
“You know,” Eddie tentatively started as they entered the warehouse, “it's maybe not the best idea to, like, do whatever we're doing right now?”
And, as expected, his best friend immediately glared at him. “Oh r-really? Is t-that the best m-moment to talk about this?”
“Well, yeah. It's probably better to talk about that before we die. Kinda more effective this way, but it's just my opinion.”
“Go on then,” Bill said with a roll of his eyes, stopping to stand in front of Eddie, his arms crossed against his chest.
“It's just...” and Eddie knew he had to choose his words perfectly right, because Bill and his stupid writer brain would dissect every single word. “Obviously, we have to get supplies and stuff, I know that. But, maybe this isn't the best place? It's old. And huge. And disgusting.”
“Well, now we’re h-here. If you don't want to take the risk, I understand, r-really, but I am doing it.”
Fuck Bill. Why did he have to be so brave and so nice all the time? Fuck the world, too. Maybe Eddie wasn't the happiest before all that, but Bill and him were the best of friends, always agreeing with each other. This dumb apocalypse had broken them. Yeah, they still loved each other but they argued so often, it was truly exhausting.
As they were advancing in the building, he realised that it was even bigger than he thought, which was just great, exactly what he needed to be reassured. Rooms were succeeding to rooms, each one almost an exact copy of the other: spacious, a large square and a ridiculously high ceiling, entirely made of cement, or some other greyish, cold, ugly, and thick material, Eddie was nowhere an expert in construction materials, surprisingly enough. Rows and rows of thin metallic shelves were filling the room, which could be good, except they were empty if not for some leftover empty packages.
“We’re not going to find anything, let's just get out of here.”
“More like this puh-place is gigantic, I'm sure we can find something here. Let's just split up.”
At that, Eddie let out a loud, probably a little dramatic, gasp: “Oh my god! Do you even hear yourself right now? ‘Let's split up’? What's next? Do you maybe feel like it'd be a good idea to whip out a ouija board and communicate with the afterlife too?”
“R-really, Eddie,” said Bill rolling his eyes once again. “We’re not in American Ho-Horror Story.”
“Well, we're already in The Walking Dead, a crossover is not over the question, and-,” he abruptly stopped at the sight of his best friend’s face, he kind of looked ready to kill him in the following seconds. “I'm just saying, you know, if we split up we have like 50% more chance to die, it's just basic maths, facts. Like, there's a great chance we'll die either way, taking in account the fact that we probably will contract a deathly disease at the first touch of these shelves.”
"Are you aware that tetanus is still kicking? And if we contract it, we have like, 50% chance to die of it? Even more right now, when we can't get proper treatment for it. And it's not even a cool death, or a quick one. First your limbs start to go stiff, which is pretty inconvenient, if you ask me, and then, your jaw locks, like, completely. And it's only one of the diseases we can get. I don't even want to think of the new ones that have appeared now, with those cadavres drooling everywhere and anywhere," Eddie finished, his breath short.
“A-are you done here?” Bill harshly asked, his voice icy cold and his stare hard.
“I guess, yeah.”
“Listen, Eddie,” he started, his eyes instantly softening. “I love you m-more than anything, you know that, and I know you d-don't d-do it on purpose, but you have to stop worrying. Life in a world straight-up coming out of a d-dystopian novel is hard enough, n-no need to add to it. O-Okay?”
Eddie nodded then shrugged. “Yeah, I'll try my best.” And he will, because, once again, Bill was too good for him to disappoint him.
“Great. N-now, we're gonna split up,” upon seeing Eddie's instant frown, Bill held up a hand, sign for him to wait before starting a rant, “you want to g-get the fu-fuck out of there as quick as possible, right? If we split up, w-we will.”
And so he agreed. This place was a fucking maze, and a safety hazard. But, hey, Bill was right, what the worst that could happen?
***
“Bill, where the fuck are you?” shouted Eddie, his voice trembling, his pitch high and his breath short. He knew it, he fucking knew it. Why did Bill never listen to him? He always knew about all the risks and the possibilities and the what ifs, that's what anxiety is all about. Now, they were separated, Eddie was all alone, and he was going to die. Right now. Like, he survived those last six months surrounded by zombies and illnesses, and that was the point where he'd meet his end, in this fucking warehouse with- CLUNG. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That's it, he's unarmed, he's going to be eaten alive. He's a small a guy, that's not going to take a lot of effort. Or, maybe, maybe he's gonna get bitten and infected, and die in pure agony, and, then, Bill was going to have to put him down. And, oh, sweet Bill, he'll be traumatised, like, they've been best friends since they were three, and then he'll neglect his well-being, and he'll DIE too. That's like two deaths for one dumb decision that could have been avoided if someone (Bill) would have just listened to him. And- shit. He could feel it. His lungs constricting, closing on themselves, forbidding air to come in. Great. Just great. What could make this exact moment even better? A panic attack. But, that, he was familiar with. That he could try and control. Easy breaths, he just had to imagine that he was taking a puff of his inhaler. One, two, three, and out, and one, two-
“Hey, you okay?”
“Fuck!” Eddie jumped five feet into the air, gripping desperately at the old and rusty metal shelves he had been avoiding for an hour. He pushed himself back against the wall, brandishing the only thing he'd found on this scavenging trip, a can of soup, as a dangerous weapon. “Who the fuck are you?!”
“Relax, I'm just...” the guy pushed the door fully open, letting the light fill the storage room. “Wait, are you threatening me with that? Is that what's happening here?” he grinned, like they were not strangers in a post-apocalyptic world risking death every second and Eddie just cracked a damn good joke.
Eddie glared, his eyes squinting up at the newcomer. “Don't you dare laugh at me!” he screeched. “I've killed things, you know! I could kill you too.”
“Oh yes, cutie, I'm sure you could," the stranger laughed, slowly shaking his head, his dark curls bouncing around him. “I'm not against you proving to me that you're a bit more dangerous than you look.”
“I- Seriously?” he asked, incredulous. What the fuck was this guy problem?
“Yeah. We're gonna die, like, real fucking soon, and, well, I'm cute and you're definitely cute. So, you know, why not?” Richie said, nonchalantly shrugging, like he just suggested the most mundane thing.
Was this guy dropped on the head as a kid? They met 5 milliseconds ago and he was already out there propositioning to him? If Eddie thought he was going crazy, there clearly were more serious cases out there, apparently.
Eddie started punctuating each word with angry movements of his hand, clearly annoyed: “Why not? Why not?! First you don't even know if I'm gay and-”
“Oh, please, cutie. Not with me.”
Eddie glared at him, once again, and continued his tirade like nothing happened: “- and, I don't know you. You could give me some kind of illness, and, also, we don't have time for this. Plus, you're not that cute.” That was a total lie. Dark eyes, dark hair, freckles on a long straight nose, pale skin, at least 6ft2, it was kind of Eddie's exact type, but he didn't need to know that. “In short, I'm not sleeping with you.”
That asshole started to laugh, again. “Calm down there, babe. I never said anything about sleeping together, you know, I'm still a gentleman, I was planning on at least buy you dinner first.”
“Shut up, you were implying it,” Eddie said, blushing despite himself. “Buy me dinner? Are you sure you're aware what's happening out there or do I need to remind you?”
The guy dismissed his last question with a wave his hand. “So, cutie, what's your name?”
“Nope, not going to happen. I don't know you,” Eddie said, shaking his head.
“Oh really? You're serious? Fuck. Well, the name is Richie.”
“That's great, Richie. But I don't give a fuck.”
“Feisty, I like it," said Richie, a smug smirk on his face. That guy really was too hot for his own good, fucking unfair. “But, really, what are you -”
A noise interrupted him, footsteps coming from behind Richie. “Eddie! You're o-okay?” asked Bill, appearing suddenly behind Richie. He seemed in a rush but not worried.
“Yeah, I am. I'd be loads better if you would just have listened to me, but, you know,” Eddie said, his voice short and cold. Seriously, that guy. He just disappeared for an hour and sent him into panick mode just for reappearing a smile on his face? Fuck no.
“Sh-shit, Eddie, I-I-I'm sorry.” And damn Bill and his stupid puppy eyes, Eddie could not be mad at him for more than 5 minutes. “But I met Mike, here,” he designed said Mike with a wave of his hand.
Mike smiled at him, and said: “Hi, Eddie. I see you've met Richie. I'm sorry.” So, the biggest asshole he ever met and the literal physical embodiment of the sun knew each other apparently, that was great, and- fuck, why were these people so hot? This one was even hotter, his gorgeous smile bringing light to the the entire room, not even an exageration.
“Hey, fucker, what are you sorry for?!” interjected Richie, apparently not that moved by Mike's ethereal beauty.
Mike royally ignored Richie, instead turning to Eddie and added: “Yeah, he is a tad annoying, but, you know, you get used to it.”
Eddie let out a laugh at their antics. In response, Mile smiled brightly at him. The both of them acting like Richie wasn't having a meltdown three feet away from them, whispering angrily to the door knob.
“So,” started Eddie, turning fully to Mike and Bill, who still were in the doorway. “Not that I'm not happy to meet you, Mike, but who the hell are you?”
“I just met him,” Bill said, taking the initiative of answering for Mike. “Richie and him are doing the same as u-us, scavenging for supplies.” Upon seeing the way Eddie's brows instantly furrowed and his mouth open, he didn't let him start. “Yeah, I k-k-know, you think I'm reckless and stupid for trusting him. But, really, Eddie, we can-can't just doubt everyone we meet, you k-know?”
“Bill... I... Okay. Yeah, okay,” Eddie said with a defeated sigh, he couldn't shut Bill and his everlasting hope down. “I'm just worried, you know.”
And he really was, he was fucking terrified. His mother was an overbearing, manipulative, lying bitch, but she was a survivor and she taught him how to be one too. He knew what he had to do: be careful, of anything, anyone, always, don't trust. Trust is weakness when it's in someone other than Sonia Kaspbrak. So, Bill, hopeful, rightful, perfect Bill, and his blind trust were putting him on edge, yeah, it's been a long time since he actually listened to anything his mother said to him, but right now, when death was a possibility every single second, he couldn't help but go back to his old ways.
“I know, Eddie, but we ha-have to try.”
Richie suddenly clapped his hands, a sharp sound reverberating around the otherwise quiet world around them, making Eddie's heart sink for a second. “Okay, lads!” he started enthusiastically, in what seemed to be a god-awful attempt at a British accent. “Sorry, to interrupt this emotional moment, it's really fucking touching and all, don't get me wrong, but we gotta go, don't we, Mikey?”
“I hate to agree with him, but yeah, we kinda have to drive back. The others are probably worrying themselves sick,” said Mike with an apologetic smile. The guy seemed to always be smiling, but Eddie wasn't about to complain, it was a blessing. “You two have a group, too?”
“Well, we're the only members of our group, to be honest,” answered Eddie, trying his best not to withdraw information from them: he had to be more open, that's what Bill said (and the fucker was always right).
“Wait, really?” asked Mike. “You should come with us, then. We're already five, but we're not against new members.”
And that was were Eddie drew the line, like hell he was gonna follow these strangers to god knows where and-
“That's really n-nice of you, Mike,” Bill said with a grateful smile. “We'd love too,” and he punctuated his sentence with a careful and discreet jab of his elbow into Eddie's ribs. “The o-only thing is, w-we kind of are on a mission to g-go back to our h-hometown.”
“Oh, well, we are too. Well, not the others, they're just tagging along, we're going back to my farm. Where are the two of you headed to?”
“Maine,” answered Eddie, at the same time that Bill said: “Derry”.
Mike let out a surprised noise: “Wait, you're going to Derry?! We are too!”
“Amazing!” blurted Richie, coming back into the conversation. “Now, we can bring back Eds to ours.”
“The fuck did you just call me?”
Mike and Bill exchanged amused smiles at the sight of their friends in an incessant bickering fight.
“So...” started Mike. “You'll follow our car?”
“D-deal.”
***
Sat in their car, waiting for Mike and Richie to start on the road, Bill and Eddie were silent, processing the last hour.
“What the fuck just happened?” Eddie finally decided to say.
“I have no c-clue.”
“You think we should trust them?”
Bill shrugged. “We have to.”
And Eddie nodded, feeling like this moment was a lot more solemn than it should.