A/N: This one isn't exactly "betrayed", but I couldn't think of anything else for this prompt.
     Also...today is national pasta day. So, in other words, it's national Eddie day. Happy Eddie Spaghetti day, everyone!

"You gonna tell him now, Richie?"

Richie whipped his head around, hissing slightly. "Shhhh! Someone might hear!"

Beverly rolled her eyes, lowering her voice. "Well, are you?"

"It's a bad idea," Richie replied doubtfully, eyes fixed on Eddie as he opened his locker.

"Come on, Trashmouth!" Bev groaned, bouncing on her heels. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Richie looked at her incredulously. What's the worst that could happen if I tell Eddie I like him? He doesn't like me back, why would he, and if I tell him he wouldn't want to be friends with me because who would want to be friends with a-

"You're doing it again," Bev said softly. "He's your friend. He wouldn't care- none of the Losers would. Even if he doesn't feel the same about you- which I highly doubt- he'd still support you."

Would he?

"Okay." Richie shook himself mentally, fidgeting. "I will. Probably. Maybe. Ah say, ah say, I'll have to thank about it!"

He moved towards Eddie as the hallway, legs shaking. Glancing back at Bev (who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up as she left), he tapped him on the shoulder. "Greetings, Eddo Spagheddo,"

Eddie sighed. "I think I prefer when you call me Eds, Trashmouth, and that's saying something."

"Hey, uh-" Richie nervously adjusted his glasses. "Can we talk?"

"Sure . . ." Eddie looked at him with an exasperated expression, one that said Oh God, what terrible joke is Richie going to tell next. It hurt a little, but Richie brushed the feeling away.

"Um- could we talk- in private?" Oh no people are looking they're gonna know oh God does everyone know? Does everyone-

Eddie shrugged, leading him into an empty classroom and sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What's up? Did you make up another stupid Voice?"

See he thinks I'm annoying everyone does this was a really fucking stupid idea-

"I just-" this is hard why is this so hard usually it's way too easy for me to open my mouth- "With- with the whole thing with It, I just thought you should know- just in case, you know . . ." Richie was rambling, unable to stop himself. "Well, we might not all come out of this summer okay . . ."

"We'll be fine," Eddie said, with such confidence that Richie stared at him.

"You really mean that?"

Eddie grinned. "Well yeah, of course, dummy." He moved a bit closer so that they were about six inches apart. "As long as we're together."

Sunlight filtered through the drawn blinds, illuminating the spray of freckles on Eddie's nose. Eddie's hand brushed his slightly, entwining his fingers in his. Richie found himself gradually leaning in until they were barely an inch apart. His heart felt as it would pound right out of his chest, his mind going a million miles an hour-

"Oh my God!"

Eddie pulled his hand back, standing up. A look of horrifying amusement crossed his face. Richie looked down, his face redder than

(blood)

Bev's hair.

Richie Tozier you fucking idiot-

Eddie was still speaking, his words drilling through Richie with a jolt. "You really think I'd ever like you? I'm not a fucking fruit, and even if I was, I still wouldn't like some annoying fucking idiot like you."

Pushing up his glasses, Richie wiped furiously at his eyes. Shit shit shit shit shit-

He hurried past Eddie, his mind a jumble of thoughts whirling around like a hurricane. As he glanced back, he almost fell over in shock. "What-

Eddie's eyes, which had been such a deep honey brown before, were bright red. He was so pale that his skin had a green-blue tinge to it, and oozing black blood bubbled sickeningly out of his mouth.

(wanna play loogie?)

Richie backed up slowly, his back hitting the door. He stared with horror at a gaping hole in Eddie's chest, three orange spheres pulsating in the middle. As he opened the door with fumbling fingers and sprinted down the empty hallway, he heard footsteps behind him.

"I know your secret!" Not-Eddie crowed. "Your dirty little secret, I know your secret, your dirty little secret-"

Richie's shoes slapped the ground, making entirely too much noise. He shook with repressed sobs.

It had started to rain. The thick, fat drops of water thundered against the ceiling, like some many-legged creature fighting to break in.

After what seemed like an eternity, Richie spotted an unused locker, quickly squeezing into it. His knees banged uncomfortably against the sides, and his elbows were wedged in tightly against his body. But as he heard Not-Eddie move down the hallway, he couldn't help feeling a bit of relief, despite the hellish situation.

"It's not Eddie . . ." he whispered. "It's not Eddie, Eddie would never say that."

(would he?)

He fought to even out his breathing, terrified that every sound would lead Not-Eddie to him.

It's out there and I'm in here as long as I'm here It can' get me.

But the thudding footsteps still echoed in Richie's mind.
It'soutthereandI'minhereaslongasI'mhereItcan'tgetme.

Suddenly, a crackling noise blasted in Richie's ears, causing him to almost jump out of his skin. His small radio, the one he'd brought to the Barrens, was sitting right beside his ankle, blaring static.
IT'SOUTTHEREANDI'MINHEREASLONGASI'MHEREITCAN'TGETME.

"The Richie Tozier All Dead Rock Show, coming to you from our very own Derry!" cried out a voice from the radio, giggling wildly. "Welcome, Richie! You're dead too!"

Richie swore under his breath, pushing frantically at the door. It was stuck tight, as though someone strong was blocking it from the other side.

As he struggled, the radio screamed with mirth. "WE'LL PLAY AAAALLLLLLLL THE HITS!"

The door swung open. Richie tumbled out, landing in a tangled heap on the cold, unforgiving floor. Groaning, he glanced up, finding himself face-to-face with Not-Eddie.

"What's wrong, Lover boy?" Eddie (not!!! eddie!!!) snickered. A glob of that tarlike bloody substance dribbled from his mouth, landing less than an inch from Richie's face. The ground where it had landed hissed and sizzled, a curl of smoke floating up weightlessly. The tendrils seemed to form vaguely human shapes as they floated, higher . . . higher . . .

Richie pulled himself up, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and raced into the nearest classroom, locking the door and collapsing against it. The radio seemed to replay inside his head.

(WE'LL PLAY AAAAALLLLLLL THE HITS)

Then, he looked up.

Every inch of every wall was plastered with posters, each exactly the same.

Hundreds of copies of that familiar
missing poster jumped out at him.

(but i'm!!! not!!! missing!!!)

Scrawled with what looked like claw scratched and dripping in blood, the word FOUND FOUND FOUND FOUND FOUND lined the walls, dripping over the papers.

Richie let out a little "Oh," of fright, his breath quickening rapidly. "Fuck this," he muttered, making up his mind.

He would just open the door and book it towards the exit. It was a stupid idea, but it was better than curling up here like a scared little mouse and waiting for It to get to him.

Richie yanked open the door and sprinted down the hallway.

"I know your secret, your dirty little secret, I know your secret-" a voice crowed behind him.

"No!" Richie roared, slamming against the large doors leading outside. He wiggled the handle furiously. It was locked.

"Richie!"

Richie looked up, his heart thumping wildly. Eddie and Beverly's pale faces pressed against the glass, trying to pull open the door. He let out a small sound that was somewhere between relief and anguish.

They hammered on the door helplessly as It got closer . . . closer . . .

("SHOULD I TELL HIM RICHIE SHOULD I TELL HIM YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET?"-)

"Stand back!" Bev shouted, her voice muted, as she raised a baseball bat.

Not-Eddie leapt on him, claws tearing through the skin on the tips of his fingers. He laughed, ooze still pouring from his mouth.

Glass flew in every direction as Bev brought the bat down.

Tiny cuts exploded across Richie's arms as he brought them up to protect his face. Not-Eddie let out a sound of exhilaration, grabbing Richie and wrapping an arm around his neck. Richie's fingers scrabbled uselessly at the arm.

It was over. Bev and Eddie were in front of him, unable to do anything as It held him in a stranglehold. "Eddie . . ." Richie croaked out. Eddie was clutching his inhaler in one hand, his face almost as pale as It's imitation of him.

"What're you going to do?" Not-Eddie giggled. "Kill me with placebos? You know what's in that aspirator, don't you?"

Eddie whispered something unintelligible, glaring at It.

"What?"

"Battery acid," Eddie said louder, moving closer. "This is battery acid." He lunged towards It, his voice rising to a yell. "THIS IS BATTERY ACID, FUCKNUTS!"

Miraculously, Not-Eddie stumbled back, wheezing and holding his throat. And suddenly, the clown was back, growling at Eddie with inhuman rage. But as It gasped for breath, Eddie stuck his inhaler deeper into Its mouth.

They were winning, but Richie, who was shaking too badly to be of any help, felt a stab of foreboding. Instead of closing Its mouth or running, It was unhinging Its jaws, Its teeth growing with it.

Eddie's whole arm was inside of It now, his shrill voice still screaming wildly about battery acid.

The world seemed to slow as Richie understood what It was doing. He let out a yell almost as loud as Eddie's.

"Eds, no-!"

Richie tackled him just as It brought Its tremendous mouth down.

If he had acted a moment later, Eddie's arm surely would've torn off. Even as it was, his aspirator was crushed, Its teeth (or, more accurately, fangs) tearing through it as easily as if it was paper.

"Go!" Beverly shrieked, pulling them up and draging them out.

They stumbled drunkenly towards their bikes, It close behind them. Eddie hoisted Richie (who could barely stand up, much less pedal) onto his bike, propping him against his back. They pedaled away, Its awful, banshee-like cries reverberating in their brains, along with

(WE'LL PLAY AAAAAAALLLLLLL THE HITS)

the chilling memory of what had just occured.

"Battery acid?" Richie mumbled, his face pressed against Eddie's soft hair. "Nice one, Eds. Pretty chuckalicious, even."

Eventually, they came to a stop on the outskirts of the Barrens, merely collapsing into the soft grass.

Richie opened his mouth, meaning to crack some brilliant joke- and instead burst into tears. Eddie engulfed him in a gentle hug, whispering hushed words of comfort. But after what he'd just seen, this only made Richie feel worse.

(i know your secret your dirty little secret i know your secret your DIRTY! LITTLE! SECRET!)

I will tell Eds. I will.

But not now. I can't. I can't face that now.

I'll tell him.

Not yet.

(too late)

A/N: You probably noticed this, but this whump is based off of Ben's school scene in It: Chapter 2