Chapter Text
Starting at a new school in the middle of the year isn’t so terrible as a college student, but moving to Maine at the start of winter is probably a mistake. The air bites Eddie’s skin harshly and the sun does nothing to assuage the cold. Most days Eddie spends sweating in his lecture halls, spending half of his class just trying to shed all the layers off to fit in his seat and take notes, only to bundle up again and feel his damp clothes freeze outside.
Despite being physically miserable, Eddie feels more free than he could have ever imagined.
One day, Eddie may return to New York, hide himself somewhere in Manhattan or Brooklyn, far from where his mother is probably still sitting in front of her TV in Queens. He didn't mind the city one bit, but being back in open, resinous air is refreshing. He had grown up trekking through these pines and wilderness before his mother decided to snuff out anything in his life that brought him joy, forcing him to move and shoving him into a prestigious private school. Being back in his old home state, even if he's a bit away from where he grew up, is an exhilarating kind of nostalgia that opened up a world of possibilities for his future.
Dare he think it… maybe he’d meet a guy here.
New York isn’t a bad place to be gay by any means, but there isn’t really a good place to be gay, and especially not anywhere near where he could run into his mother so soon after leaving. It was very possible she'd try to have half of the boroughs looking for him. Spending a few years away from her stomping grounds, letting her think that he was probably dead in a ditch somewhere, seems like a good refresh button to a new life he can at least try to be happy. He’d seen gay couples before; it isn’t impossible to think he can get to that point, too.
Eddie just didn’t think it would happen so soon.
The second week of classes, Eddie notices the boy he was sneaking glances at is staring back at him. Awkward at first, it soon becomes sincerely flattering, flashing each other soft smiles while Eddie chews the end of his pen cap. He sits next to Eddie the following class, offering him a Snickers.
“It’s eight in the morning,” Eddie chuckles, taking the candy bar to stick into his pocket.
“I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth,” the guy says, winking at Eddie and making him blush.
Eddie had had crushes before, but never one who was so abruptly flirting with him, let alone in public. It turns him into a hot, bumbling mess of a person.
“My friends are having a little get together tomorrow night,” he tells Eddie as they're gathering their notebooks at the end of class.
“I’ve never actually been to a party before,” Eddie admits shyly.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” he assures him. “It’s not like a frat house or anything. It’ll just be at a house they’re renting off campus. Just a few people playing beer pong and Mortal Kombat.”
“Mortal Kombat?” Eddie asks, making his classmate laugh.
“Here, I’ll give you the address.” He rips a page from his notebook before putting it away, scribbling down a street Eddie recognizes being a short walking distance from his dorm room. “Can you get there okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods fervently, taking the paper with a shaky hand. “Thuh-thanks.”
“Stop by around ten,” he continues, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll see you there…?”
A beat passes when Eddie realizes he's holding his hand out to Eddie, who moves spastically to shake it. “Eddie! My — my name is Eddie.”
“Patrick,” he laughs, winking at him again. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”
There's still a distinct possibility that this is completely innocent and platonic, and Eddie can’t kid himself to think otherwise. Still, he spends his entire physics lab trying to think about what to wear, which was incredibly silly. All of the clothes in his closet seem wrong as he shifts through them later, his roommate eyeing him with an annoyed glare as Eddie tries on his fifth shirt. It doesn’t help that they’re all donation clothes Eddie stole from a bin.
“Got a date?” his roommate asks from his desk. Studying. On a Friday.
“Uh, maybe,” Eddie mutters, feeling himself blush. “Find out when I get there, I guess.”
His roommate chuckles softly behind him and Eddie isn’t sure if it was meant in cruel jest or good intentions, but he chooses to ignore it.
As it always is in Maine winter, it's freezing and the wind bites his cheeks until they become numb. Eddie’s back begins to ache from the excessive shivering by the time he gets up to the main street. The house is unassuming; a single-story ranch style home. Bright right from the road, but not boisterous like Eddie would think a party would be. He can’t hear any music until he's halfway up the porch and hopes someone will hear his feeble little knocks on the door, wishing that he had some decent boots.
A pretty brunette answers the door, wearing a simple t-shirt dress that Eddie can’t comprehend anyone wearing given the state of weather outside, but she ushers him in immediately. It's the most crowded house Eddie had probably been in before, but it's nothing like the wild parties his mother had warned him about. Some of the students are in the living room playing on a game console, playing something that looked awfully violent, while others are playing beer pong in a dining area. The house itself is bigger than it appeared outside, wide and open with lots of space. It's just as simple as Patrick had said.
“You ever gonna take your coat off?”
Eddie turns and is happy to know his cheeks and nose are already blistered red from the wind, because his blush would have otherwise been incredibly embarrassing. He immediately starts fumbling at his zipper to get himself out of his puffy little prison.
“Hi,” he says stupidly, probably smiling like a dumbass.
“Here, I’ll hang it up. You want a drink?”
Eddie nods, but has a nervous feeling in his gut at the thought of drinking. He had never done so before and is quite terrified of the state he’d be in when he has to go home. Not voicing so to Patrick, he vows to only have the one drink.
Talking to people had never seemed so easy, and he isn’t sure why he's now able to have such casual conversations with strangers. Normally, he’d find himself lecturing people or spitting out something defensive, but the other students don't seem at all judgmental. Eddie can’t remember the last time he had a smile on his face for this long. He keeps the same half-full beer cup in his hand the entire time; he barely has to take two sips to feel relaxed.
“My only complaint,” he tells Patrick a bit later. “Is that I didn’t stuff my face full at the York Hall for dinner. I’m fucking starving. Maybe we can go to Denny’s or something?” he adds hopefully. He simultaneously wants to be alone with Patrick, but far from somewhere as intimate as a house.
“They’ve got actual food,” Patrick says, taking Eddie’s hand to lead him towards the kitchen. “C’mon.”
“Are you sure we can just—?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Patrick assures him, looking back to smile softly. “I practically live here, they don’t care.”
Eddie smiles back, letting Patrick take him through the throng in the hallway. The kitchen has some more people, and Eddie has this strong urge to pull his hand out of Patrick’s. It doesn't seem to matter long though, as Patrick lets go to open the door to a large pantry with an assortment of snacks and dry goods.
“Wow,” Eddie breathes in awe, stepping past Patrick to look up and down the shelves. “My mom never would have let me even look at all this trans fat and sugar.”
The light coming from the kitchen shrinks into a thin line and Eddie turns to see Patrick had nearly closed the door, giving Eddie a dark, hungry look. Something about it makes Eddie want to shrink into himself, watching Patrick step closer. Eddie's still holding his solo cup in front of him like some sort of security blanket and he watches Patrick put his hand over the top, encircling Eddie’s fingers to gently guide it down so he could enter Eddie’s space.
Eddie gasps against Patrick’s mouth as he feels it on his own, taking no pause to kiss Eddie with vigor. Fear strikes him nearly senseless, pushing back every impulse he has — every impulse his mother had instilled in him — to fight against this. He tries to catch up, clumsily moving his lips along with Patrick’s but not doing much else with his body as he tries to concentrate on their mouths. He’s never kissed anyone before, let alone a guy, and it's more spit and teeth than butterflies. It's not exactly what he'd call pleasant, but he figures he doesn't know what he's doing well enough yet to enjoy it as much as he should. Just as he thinks he's finally able to match Patrick’s rhythm, he pulls off of Eddie, wiping some spit from his lower lip.
“Been wanting to do that all night,” Patrick murmurs, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over.
“Me — me too,” Eddie breathes, still slightly in shock.
“C’mon,” Patrick says. “Let’s go back to the party.”
“Oh— okay.”
Taking a package of Oreos with him, the closest thing he can reach, Eddie follows Patrick out of the pantry with a shy grin on his face.
It's not long after that when Eddie attempts to try out this game some of the other guys are playing. He picks a character named Scorpion, simply because it matches his zodiac sign. The problem is that Eddie isn’t used to seeing this kind of graphic gore and immediately throws his controller down at his first fatality, clenching his stomach uncomfortably.
“You need a bathroom?” Patrick asks, gripping his shoulder and looking concerned.
“Maybe,” Eddie mutters.
This is embarrassing, but Patrick doesn't seem too bothered helping Eddie up and leading him across to the quieter parts of the house, taking him down to a long hallway. The nausea is making Eddie feel dizzy and a little weak, his legs feeling like they're going to give out. Now that he's standing, he's realizing how woozy and sleepy he feels. He's not sure why, it seems out of nowhere; blood doesn't usually make Eddie sleepy. Patrick leads him down to a door on the far left of the hall and guides him inside. There's a bathroom on the other side of the bedroom, but the second Eddie sees the bed his body gravitates to it like a magnet.
His body falls heavily onto the mattress, feet still dangling off to the side. The nausea is starting to subside as he rests, which is incredible luck, because he can’t see how he's going to be able to get up again if he has to vomit. Patrick is speaking again, but it's low and hushed, like he's talking to someone outside. Whatever light that was coming from the hallway dims and Eddie opens his eyes enough to see that the door is closed. The music sounds like it's light-years away.
“Patrick, what the fuck?” Eddie hears a voice whisper as someone else’s weight presses into the bed with him.
“Pat?” Eddie mumbles, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. God he's so dizzy still; he can’t bring himself to sit up. "Who's that?"
“See?” Patrick chuckles, a cold laugh that sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. “He sounds like a little bitch. And he’s the tiniest person I could find.”
Alarm bells are going off in Eddie’s head, shifting himself in an attempt to get up, but someone - Patrick? - puts their hand on his back, shushing him.
“Shh, stay still baby,” he says. “That shit I put in your drink will make you nice and relaxed.”
Before he can process what was just said to him, Eddie is rolled over roughly onto his back. Unable to see well enough in the darkness and his haze, he can sense the second person getting onto the other side of the bed with them.
“I don’t wanna fuck a dude, Patrick” the other voice says, sounding annoyed.
“Then don’t,” Patrick huffs impatiently, unstrapping Eddie’s belt as Eddie weakly tries to brush his hands away. “A warm mouth is a warm mouth, Henry.”
Stop, Eddie says — or thinks he says. He can’t even be sure his lips are moving. His brain feels too frozen.
Patrick’s demeanor had changed so abruptly from just moments ago. He rips Eddie’s pants down roughly, the skin of his thighs burning. He thinks he whimpers; he thinks Patrick laughs at that and it makes him feel sick again.
The weight on the bed is shifting and Eddie feels someone pushing him up, legs still out in front as someone is sitting behind him to keep him held up, one of their hands on his neck to force his head to face forward. Vaguely able to make out the outlined figure of the person in front of him, he can tell it’s not Patrick from their hairline, and it must be this Henry person.
Eddie thinks he cries out Patrick's name, not absolutely sure it’s audible. He whimpers again as something warm touches his face, reeling back before Patrick tightens his grip on Eddie’s head.
“Easy,” he growls, breath hot in Eddie’s ear. “Watch the teeth or you’re leaving without them.”
Two of Patrick’s fingers pry at Eddie’s mouth until he unwillingly opens his jaw and let the thing Henry has get shoved into his mouth. It’s smooth but hits the back of Eddie’s throat hard, tasting of salt and ammonia. Eddie starts gagging, sputtering spit around it as tears start rolling down his cheeks. The man above him is groaning and Eddie wants to vomit at the sound of it and he thinks he might if this guy keeps up his pace, shoving in and out of Eddie’s throat like this.
In the back of his mind, Eddie is finally beginning to feel the panic, realizing what's happening, what they're doing to him, and all he can do is pathetically push his arms out, try and push them away, only to have his limbs fall down again weakly.
Click.
There’s a brief flash of light and Patrick is chuckling again, throwing something light onto the bed beside them. A hand roughly grazes Eddie’s briefs, squeezing between his legs and causing Eddie to whine, in turn causing Henry to grip Eddie’s hair to hold him still, groaning as he kept fucking into his mouth.
All Eddie can comprehend to think is why, these things weren’t supposed to happen, these are things they warned little girls about when they went off to college, not boys, not boys like Eddie—
“I’d say this counts as a pussy, Henry,” Patrick laughs in Eddie’s ear as his hand rubs at Eddie’s dick with enough pressure to hurt. “There’s practically nothing down here.”
Eddie can do nothing but whimper again, feeling himself shamefully get hard from the friction of Patrick’s hand, even throughout the pain. He feels Henry’s grip in his hair tighten, Henry letting out a loud moan, and something warm and sour hits the back of Eddie's throat. When Henry pulls out, Eddie sputters spit and god knows what else all over his front and chin, gasping desperately and trying to pull away from Patrick now sucking on his neck.
“Off,” is all Eddie can get out, meek and quiet.
“Uh uh,” Patrick growls. “My turn.”
The weight shifts and Eddie suddenly falls back onto the bed like a spring to the gravity pulling him down. He manages to cry out into the darkness, near-silent sobs as hot tears drip down into his ears as he lays there. Someone pulls him up by the front of his shirt, kneeling in front of him, and he tries pathetically to move his face away.
“Uh, Henry, a little help?” Patrick is saying, yanking at Eddie’s hair to hold his head still.
“Please don't,” Eddie sobs, which he knows is no good, and whatever sweet boy he thought had brought him to this party is certainly nonexistent. People don’t just do this to each other. This isn’t one of the dangerous things Eddie’s mother warned him about happening.
“Hey,” Patrick says with a finger under Eddie’s chin. His voice is menacingly sweet. “I’ll break your fucking jaw if you don’t open it up again for me.”
“Please,” Eddie cries again. Henry is there, propping Eddie up so Patrick can let go of his shirt, and is shoving his face forward until he reluctantly opens his mouth again for fear of what else they'd do.
It’s somehow worse, almost like Patrick is trying to choke and suffocate him to death with his dick, while Henry squeezes a hand around Eddie’s neck to keep him still. He’s gagging and he still has the taste of Henry’s cum coating his tongue and the idea of it happening again combined with Patrick’s larger member being shoved into Eddie’s throat is what finally gets Eddie sick—
“Shit!” Patrick curses, pulling out as Eddie spit ups and vomits down his front. “You fucker!”
For some reason, Eddie almost wants to apologize, but doesn't get a chance to as something hard hits him in the face just under his eye, sending Eddie’s head buzzing. He’s so fazed he can’t hear what they’re saying as Henry roll Eddie over onto his front while he’s still trying to sputter out bits of vomit. The smell of it punctures his senses as his own sick is sandwiched between him and the bed.
“Nononono,” Eddie mutters, realizing with horror what Patrick is doing as he feels his legs being pulled back. He reaches out to try and crawl away, but Henry puts a knee on his back, holding Eddie down by his biceps, hearing something slicking behind him. “Please, Patrick, please don’t do this please— HEL—!”
Henry is quick to slap a hand over Eddie’s mouth before he can call out to anyone, growling in his ear, "Shut the fuck up you little faggot! Patrick, you put enough in his drink.”
“S’fine,” Patrick mutters, pulling down Eddie’s briefs. Eddie tries to kick out at him before Patrick sits his knees heavily on the back of Eddie’s legs. “I’m gonna make this nice and quick.”
The only bit of mercy Patrick offers is a small bit of spit from two fingers before deciding that it was enough. Eddie’s cries are muffled against the sweat of Henry’s palm as he feels — god, it literally felt like he's being ripped in half from the inside, a burning hot pain that moves deeper and deeper into him as he's pressed down into the mattress. His neck and back scream from the position they have him in, Henry pressing him down while holding his head up awkwardly to keep a hand over Eddie’s mouth. He can’t daydream himself out of this, as hard as he tries; this was a nightmare he's trapped in until they finish.
Click.
Someone takes another picture of him when they're done; a souvenir before the leave him there alone, covered in tears, sweat, blood, and their own fluids.
Even when it's over, even when he's left there sobbing, he can still feel it happening to him, like a brutal brand upon his senses. What had just happened is still not computing, yet is still so changing, so permanent, like something had just died inside of him.
He ignored their taunts after they took the second picture of him lying there, covering his face in shame. After what might have been hours or just a few hellish seconds, Eddie shifts, feeling sharp stings inside him as he moves his legs off the bed. He isn’t sure how he still has the strength to move and dress himself, feeling as if his body is going to fall apart, being torn to bits from the inside out. He manages to get on his shoes when he falls to his knees and keeps sobbing towards the floor.
How is he supposed to leave this goddamn house?
Equally as afraid of being found in this state in the bedroom, Eddie manages to start crawling out, reeling back as the light from the hall hits him. He freezes, catching someone's eye in the hallway.
“Hey!”
The girl that had let Eddie into the house stands in the hall, quickly coming over and kneeling down to him.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
Knowing he can’t hide that he's crying and is probably covered in his own spit and vomit, Eddie simply shakes his head.
“Who’d you come here with?”
“Alone,” Eddie croaks out, shifting his body so that he's at least leaning on the doorframe and not crawling on his knees like an animal. “I can’t — I can’t go out there.”
She looks contemplative, looking down the hall for a moment before turning back to him. “I drove here. I can take you home if you want. We can sneak out through the back patio, the door is through the den. No one is in there.”
She holds out her hand and despite his best interest not to trust another stranger, he takes it. He grimaces as he gets up, each step more painful than the other. They manage to avoid running into anyone as she lightly pushes him through a sliding wood door into an old rustic den with a futon.
“Our coats,” Eddie says, freezing before she can open the door. “My — my badge to get back to my dorm is in there.”
“I’ll get them,” she assures him. “Let’s get you in the car first.”
The cold is anguish, forcing him to shiver and feel every battered and torn muscle in his body twitch uncomfortably. Eddie is thankful when the girl turns the car on for him when he gets in, watching her run back to the house through the front as he warms up his hands in front of the vents.
“Thanks,” he mutters quickly as she gets in, handing him his coat.
“Don’t mention it. Where do you live?”
“York,” he says, tucking himself under his coat, not bothering to put it on properly.
Grateful that they stay silent for the car ride, Eddie's ready to dash out of the door and run up to his room to maybe shower or cry. However, she ends up parking in the back of the building, looking like she's ready to walk Eddie up.
“I’m okay,” he tries to assure her, knowing that it's a lie.
She looks back at him with a soft, sad smile. “You really want to be alone right now, uh...?”
Eddie sighs. “No. And it’s Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”
The dorm room is empty and Eddie has no idea where his roommate is, but he's grateful. His muscles are starting to ache terribly, both from the assault and the cold, and all Eddie wants to do was sleep, even as dirty as he is. How he'll manage to do that when his brain is a livewire of thoughts, he isn’t sure.
“Do you want to report it?” the girl asks as they took their shoes off.
“No. God, no. I can’t. No one is going to take this seriously.” He turns away as his voice breaks, not wanting her to watch him cry again. There's no way he's going to manage to do anything to take care of himself tonight. He'll just crawl into his bed like this.
“It doesn’t — it doesn’t make you, like… gay or anything, you know,” she says. “I’ve heard guys say shit like that before.”
Before he can help it, Eddie shoots her a cold, irritated look. “You know what… fuck you. You can leave. Thanks for your help, but — please leave.”
She stands still for a moment and then makes a little ‘o’ with her mouth before slapping her hand over it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t — I didn’t mean, like, that being gay is bad or anything. I just meant, it’s not — What happened has nothing to do with you.”
“It doesn’t?” Eddie snaps, feeling his throat and eyes burn as he leans over his bed. “Because I’d like you to name one other guy that this could’ve happened to at the party.”
A wet spot appears on his sheets, so Eddie wipes his cheeks before he can watch any more of his tears fall, trying to will himself to stay calm. He hears a zipper and looks up to see the girl pulling something out of her purse; a small little pill bottle.
“This can probably help you sleep,” she offers, looking sheepish. “I take it for anxiety but it always makes me pass out.”
Going against his better judgment than to trust a stranger (again), Eddie lifts a shaky limb to take the little bottle, not even bothering to read the label.
“You want me to get going?” she asks, toeing at one of her shoes as Eddie dry swallows one of the little pink pills.
“N-no,” Eddie hears himself say. “I don’t — I don’t know if I can be alone right now. Or where my roommate is. I—”
“It’s okay,” she assures him.
Eddie uses a water bottle to quickly wipe his face before taking his vomit-coated sweater off. He crawls into bed, beyond the point where he can do anything past this level of self care. His jeans feel tighter, like the cold from outside had trapped its way between the fabric and his skin. He clenches the blanket tight to his chest as the girl turns off the overhead light. She gets into the small bed with him. Thankfully, neither up them take up so much space.
“S’a good thing I’m gay,” he mutters, starting to feel the affects of the medicine she gave him. He had never said it out loud before, and it's strangely comforting to say it so casually, even under the harsh circumstances. “Better you're in my bed. My roommate would be pissed if you were in his.”
“Mine snores, so this will be a nice break,” she chuckles beside him, shifting to make herself more comfortable.
Eddie can’t help but scoot just a bit closer to her, feeling her warmth radiating underneath the blanket. “Thank you for staying. I’m sorry I was kind of a dick.”
“You were allowed to be,” she says simply, stifling a yawn. It makes Eddie yawn in return, feeling sleepiness start to take him over. Maybe he’ll wake up and none of this ever happened.
“What’s your name?” he whispers quietly.
“Patty.”
Letting his eyelids flutter shut in the dark, Eddie breathes out, “G’night Patty.”
“Goodnight Eddie.”