Hypochondriac : Part 02

Hypochondriac : Part 02

warnings: mentions of bullying, slow burn, not much :)

summary: returning to Derry was terrifying enough, but when Eddie finds himself forced to deal with painful truths, he second guesses everything he thought he knew. Peggy returns to her childhood home and decides that being a sacrifice isn’t so bad, as long as the ones she loves make it out alive. And she lets herself wonder what could have been when she finds out the fate of her first love.

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing for IT, and feedback is always appreciated!

PART ONE HERE

1985

The plane ride from JFK to Bangor, Maine didn’t sit well with Peggy for more reasons than a hellish storm and dangerous turbulence. Something felt off- even more off than the sound of Mike Hanlon’s voice as he told her that IT returned. She squeezed her eyes shut and marked the page in the book she’d given up on reading.

Unlike Bill Denbrough, who Peggy knew had a movie star wife and a highly successful writing career, and Ben Hanscom, who was internationally famous for his architectural designs, Peggy felt as if she had little to leave behind in her New York City apartment. These days, SoHo lacked the shine and love Peggy first fell in love with. She had never felt more alone after everything that happened with Nick, and that apartment still had his scent ingrained into each and every piece of furniture.

Peggy Turner and Nick Wilson fell in love hard and fast as naive college students, and they’d been so in love they never left the city: even after graduation. The lovebirds married by 25 and soon enough they had a decent apartment and the lives they’d always wanted. Peggy had a gallery in Brooklyn and Nick finally got that spot on the NYPD he’d always dreamt of. For a long time, they were really, truly, blissfully happy.

Until the summer of 1984.

Looking back, Peggy felt as if she should have known it was only the beginning of the end for her. As things usually happened for Peggy Turner, good things turned sour fairly quickly. And the summer of ‘84 was pretty high up on her list of bad memories.

Eyes still closed and fluttering softly, Peggy grasped around her memory for images of her husband. She could see him only fleetingly, in flashes of unruly hair and dimpled smiles. Just as quickly as his memory appeared, it morphed into someone else; someone Peggy had nearly forgotten. Nearly. Her heart thudded at the thought.

She had loved him so long ago, as if in another life entirely. Their relationship was sweet and innocent and pure, but when he moved away her young heart was shattered. If she didn’t think they were too young at the time, Peggy might have called him her first love.

And through her painful memories of last summer, Peggy found herself smiling like a fool on a crowded airplane. She didn’t know where Stanley Uris ended up or what he was up to, but she really hoped he was doing well.

For a moment- a brief, selfish moment- Peggy felt nearly excited to return to Derry if it meant seeing him again. She couldn’t have been more wrong about what Derry had in store for her.

1958

The pair walked in an uncomfortable silence, with Peggy carefully pulling at her cardigan in shame, and Eddie fiddling with the aspirator in his hand. She glanced sideways at him, mouth agape with half-spoken words.

“Eddie,” she said. “Am I loser?”

The boy nearly dropped his inhaler at this, taken aback. Sure, that word was no stranger to Eddie Kaspbrak, and to many of his friends, but it was not a term he would think to pin on a girl like Peggy Turner.

“Where did you get that idea?”

Peggy shrugged her shoulders, suddenly feeling very shy.

“That’s what they’ve been calling me,” she paused.

For a moment, he wanted to smile, maybe even laugh, and jokingly welcome her to the club. He and his friends were forever branded as losers. That much at least made sense to him. To their peers, Eddie Kaspbrak was a hypochondriac with a crazy mother, Bill Denbrough had a terrible stutter and a missing brother, Stanley Uris was Jewish and a neat-freak, and Richie Tozier’s glasses were too big and he never kept his TrashMouth shut.

Eddie glanced at her with furrowed eyebrows. He caught the tail end of her fiasco with Greta Bowie earlier that day, and thought about chasing after her, but Peggy ducked into the girls’ restroom before he could get to her.

It was common knowledge that Greta was a bully. She had a nasty tendency to harass anyone who stood out or who didn’t have as much money as her parents did. If Henry Bowers and his gang weren’t already doing it, she might give a go at Eddie and his friends from time to time. But Peggy? No one had seen that coming.

He thought for a moment that there must have been a reason Greta ruined Peggy’s pride and her clothing in one swift motion. What, though, he simply couldn’t work out.

As far as Eddie was concerned, Peggy was a walking daydream. She oozed kindness on cloudy days and always made sure her neighbor was okay, even if they weren’t exactly friends anymore. Apart from maybe Bill, Eddie admired Peggy the most in the world. He had never heard her say a bad word towards anyone, and seeing her with tear-stained cheeks and that defeated demeanor cracked his heart.

“I don’t think so,” he told her. “You’re not a loser to me.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how helpful he had been, but she smiled at him and he couldn’t help but to return the gesture. When Peggy pulled him into a side-hug, he tried to wriggle away, but she simply laughed and skipped ahead of him.

The girl turned on her heel to face her old friend and brushed her wild hair from her face. She started to ask where they were meeting him, but the words caught in her throat at the sight of Stan himself across the road. He stood on a park bench, focused on a book and oblivious to his approaching friends; Peggy thought he looked marvelous.

Eddie pretended not to notice the way she looked at him as he pulled her across the street.

“Stan likes to watch birds,” he explained.

“Birds?”

Eddie shrugged. Peggy smiled faintly.

Eddie had trouble matching her pace as she went to greet Stan.

“I hope you don’t mind that I crashed your afternoon,” she said sheepishly.

But Stan simply smiled at her, glancing at Eddie who stood behind her. Eddie silently pleaded with him not to say anything stupid, afraid it might offend her if he stared at her dirtied clothing.

“You’re not,” Stan said, blushing a faint pink.

Peggy tentatively sat down on the bench beside him, smoothing out her skirt, which left Eddie to stand or sit on the bare ground. He remained standing.

Stan clutched his book a little tighter in his lap as he caught a glimpse of the dirty state of Peggy’s clothing. He never liked unclean things. But this was Peggy and he had watched it happen.

She seemed oblivious to his gaze, as she remained silent for a moment.

“So,” Peggy glanced between the boys. “What’re you reading?”

She gently pushed his hands to close the book, smiling at the title. Stan parted his lips, embarrassed, and started to brush it off. She beat him to it.

“Cool,” she said.

He grinned back at her, surprised by her kind reaction. 

The three of them spent the better half of the afternoon strolling around the park, with Stan pointing out some Bluebirds and Eddie trailing a few inches behind them. Stan noted that his book claimed Bluebirds could symbolize transition, but kept this to himself. He never cared much for things like that.

They eventually collapsed on the grass- Stan testing the grass for dirt before sitting cross-legged beside Eddie, who Peggy had dragged down with her. Peggy laid back in the grass, dark hair fanning behind her head. She smiled to herself and watched the sky, occasionally laughing at something Eddie said.

Stan squinted at Peggy through the afternoon sun and grinned. He looked on with soft adoration as she deciphered shapes in the clouds; for the first time, he thought he could watch her all afternoon.

send help

okay so i know i have several series that are unfinished but i also have ideas for 2 new pieces. i have no idea which one to work on next. send input bC

If you fall into generation z (born in between 1996-2010) reblog so I can follow. I follow a lot of millennials and wanna find some people in my age group who will most likely share my views as well.

sunshine

Joe Keery leaving LAX (1.27.17)

reblog if u love winona ryder, really love winona ryder, or are in love with winona ryder

Second Choice : Steve Harrington

summary: steve and the reader are lost in their own little world, but find it shattered by one stupid remark and steve might just watch the girl he loves walk off forever- again. or, alternatively, the one in which steve slips up and breaks the reader’s heart with just one word: nancy.

warnings: angst, cursing (if that counts?), Stranger Things 2 spoilers (like barely)

a/n: so this is my first attempt at writing on tumblr, and it was originally an extension to a fanfic i’ve given up on, so it’s been adapted to fit this format, and i might expand it to have a part 2. feedback is very much appreciated! can’t wait to hear what you have to say about this one!

[ | | | ]

Standing in the center of the living room, dancing dumbly to her favorite Journey records, [Y/N] looked like a sight for sore eyes. Her makeup had smudged in odd places and tufts of hair clung to her clammy skin. Steve watched her from the doorway with a fond smile spread across his lips. To him, she looked like a vision of beauty.

As soon as she caught sight of her boyfriend, [Y/N] reached out a canary-yellow fingernail at him and signaled for him to come closer.

The pair danced clumsily like that, her fingers buried in his hair and his hands gripping onto her swaying hips, until the music faded out with the final stroke of a guitar on the record player.

It wasn’t long after that the pair found themselves tangled up in Steve’s bed sheets. [Y/N] sat on his lap with their limbs in a tangled mess and their lips locked in a messy, hungry kiss. She pulled harshly on a chunk of his hair when he’d said it.

“Nancy,” he said, his eyes screwed shut. Just like that, [Y/N]’s cherry lips ripped away from him and the bed shifted as she scurried away. Steve, having realized his mistake, sat up and prepared to pull her back to him. He cooed at her and let a string of apologies fall from his lips. The way she recoiled from his touch sent an all-too-familiar pang to his heart. It was enough to alert him that this wasn’t just some silly spat that they would work out with a good kiss; he’d really hurt her.

“What did you just call me?” Her voice came out soft and pained. [Y/N] turned away from him, smoothing out her dress. Hot, angry tears pooled in her eyes. She felt stupid and naive for allowing herself to think that Steve Harrington might love someone like her.

Steve had been her first real boyfriend. In fact, [Y/N] had just settled on the conclusion that she would start dating in college when one of the kids she babysat convinced her to go out on a date with “this guy he knew.” The last person she would have guessed she might fall in love with was “King” Steve Harrington himself. Yet, here she was- crying over him nonetheless.

“C’mon, now,” he begged. “It was just a stupid mistake-!”

“No,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Cut the bullshit, Steve.”

Bullshit. Steve flinched at the word, and for once, found himself unable to speak. The last time a girl he loved had said those words to him had broken his heart, and he had a suspicion that it was about to happen again.

“Yeah, but-“

“But what, Steve? What else could you possibly have to say to me right now?”

When he fell silent, [Y/N] stood up abruptly. She nodded, trampling around his room in search of her shoes. With a heavy sigh, she turned to look at him one last time.

“I love you, Steve Harrington, but I have no interest in being anyone’s second choice.”

With that, she trudged down the stairs and made a break for the front door, Steve right behind her. He called after her, but [Y/N] was just too filled with adrenaline to make out any of what he was telling her.

Her vision now blurred from sobbing, [Y/N] stumbled on home. She refused to turn back for fear of catching Steve’s eye, afraid she might take one look into those pretty boy eyes and forgive him too soon. Eventually, he stopped calling for her, and she’d assumed he retreated back into his house alone. She hugged her arms to her chest, trying to catch her breath. Her heart ached and she was angry. Angry with Steve for toying with her heart, angry at herself for thinking she could ever replace a girl like Nancy Wheeler, and angry at herself for giving up her dream school for something closer to home just to see a boy she was unsure she ever had a real shot with.

Back on his front porch, Steve stood transfixed for a good while after she disappeared from his line of vision. A churning feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, as reality sunk in.

He’d lost her.