#i got a silly little idea bouncin around my silly little head

[blushyeddie]

chubby eddie headcanons!

brought to you by my beautiful girlfriend @richiebubba (* marks) and i (- marks)! just some little storyline on beautiful eddie and his pudgy tummy. (keep reading)

- eddie was born (slightly) prematurely. “a whole two months, isn’t it a miracle?” his mother would boast at their neighborhood’s annual Easter dinners. the seat count each year would slowly wither down to only close (pitying) friends after his father’s death. sonia preaches that it’s because the others are far too anxious to be around such a poorly behaving child, but eddie knows it’s because frank was the only endearment to the kaspbrak house.

- “i’m so sorry, mrs. rosi. he’s never usually this rude! i’ll have to set more ground rules.” eddie had only said ‘no’ to her off-putting mash potatoes. they resembled a cat’s hairball.

- growing up, he showed trivial symptoms of his earlier birth like a disproportionately large head compared to his tiny feet, and a generally low body temperature. sonia was always scribbling these symptoms down, measuring his height religiously every morning and afternoon. he’d always been healthy though, only spending about a week after his birth in the hospital. as he hit kindergarten, his growth spurt grew out... rather than up. standing 3’5 and sporting love handles that stuck out the back of his shirt, he was shoved into public school, meeting richie tozier. a savior in some sorts.

* public school saw eddie kaspbrak holding hands with richie tozier on the hopscotch chalk before lessons every morning, and leading them soft right up to his tummy; just the pouchy part that didn't fit in his polo shirt. the bubble had burst.

* eddie hadn't ever thought anything too bad about that little body of his up to this point, or the number of hairball potatoes it ran on. the bubble his mama had kept 'round him growing up had once been enough to keep magazines and pink tv comedies and even the gossiping of other moms in derry totally alien to him. to keep a body as only what carried your soul until it was all ready for heaven: two legs, hands, arms, a head, and right over the very core of it, a tummy.

* if you weren't careful with it, your body could carry not only your soul but a whole load of sins as well, eddies mama started telling him once his first semester had gotten well underway. it could carry chocolate ice cream and potato chips and strawberry lollipops, and now that he was getting older, almost old enough to be thinning out, sonia kaspbrak was getting obsessed with this. "you ask mrs. tozier how much sugar she puts in her cookies, for your ma, and i'll write it down here," she'd say, scratching down all his calories for that week as he took his sunday night bath. "too much, i'll bet. i'm surprised that boy of hers doesn't turn out sick as a dog...dontchu have anymore."

* eddies growth continued on that funny out-not-up path as his age got closer towards double digits and his mama's hostility towards it grew stranger, more strained. she'd never shout at him or smack him on the bum like she might if he broke something or grazed his knee, but sometimes she'd cry when she took his height and weight at the end of the month, and it was the worst thing ever.

* sonia never bought his clothes any sizes bigger either as her growin' boy was really starting to need, in fact, eddie sometimes had bad thoughts she might actually be getting them smaller. just so she could start crying all over again when eddie couldn't work out why his t-shirt sleeves were leaving little, sharp red ridges on his chunky arms, and keep on yapping at him, "what'd i tell you, eddie? what did your mama tell you?!"

- come swim class nearing middle school, when the boys grew rotten and smelt like Axe spray and their fathers' after-shave, he realized he didn’t want to take his shirt off anymore. the other boys’ metabolisms were hitting their peaks and eddie grew selfishly jealous of their tucked in stomachs and bony knees. it wasn’t like they hadn’t noticed either.

- “you’ve been fillin’ out, eddie! whatchu hidin’ in that bag of yours?! think we outta put a stop to this, huh?! would hate to have to tell your mother you’ve got some sorta food stash.” chad, the loudest of the bunch, would cackle. the echos in the locker rooms bounced ‘round with ‘fat’, ‘chubby’, and ‘someone grab his shirt!’.

- he’d never developed an eating disorder like the boys would crudely suggest, though. he’d miss his macaroni nights with mama and candy splurges filled with sour patch and fizzy pop rocks at richie’s house, the only place he was allowed those treats. he just felt pudgy. a bit too large in the belly, thighs forcing his speckled knees apart as he plopped down in the plastic staticky chairs at school, and shorts never quite making it up past his muffin top.

- when the coach introduced a mandatory ‘no shirt’ policy while swimming, eddie had hidden in the locker rooms, barricading himself behind a bench, his highlighter-yellow lunch pail, and his matching backpack in hopes they’d assume he’d gone to the nurse’s office or somewhere else “sick” boys resided. he’d cried harder than when he scraped his knees flying down Lily Pond Rd on his bike too fast. harder than when his pet rock went ‘missing’ and his mother was unusually complacent

- “ma, where’s mister pebble?!”, he’d cried from the top of their broken staircase railing. his mother hand fallen back into the wood and broken the damn thing right off the hinges.

- “keep looking, honey!” she’d called back, knowing fully well that googly-eyed rock was sitting on the bottom of their aluminum trash can. she couldn’t let eddie get too attached. she’d always been frightened of the idea of her baby eddie loving anything more than her. he had a delicate heart after all. the doctors said so.

* it was richie's tickly hands that managed to get him out from behind that bench, richie’s hands and two or three of those famous sugar cookies from his ma that eddie was starting to have bad dreams about. richie still liked to touch at that little pouch when they were eating their lunch at the end of the field, where none of the other boys would come and try and rope them into any of their mean games, and sometimes he'd sing silly songs while doing it.

* when eddie seemed too shy to play like this today, richie leaned close with mud on his lip and just told him very quietly, "i think i know your secret."

* "what are you talkin' about, nene?"

* "you know...what you were so upset about when the coach said you had to take your tee shirt off. and you don't have to spill any of the details 'cause i appre-shate it's top secret, but...i know you are a mermaid!"

* richie had put a lot of thought into this, funnily enough; he knew a lot about faeries, dragons, pixies, and unicorns- so much his mama had to make him do special breathing patterns and drink a glass of water when he started talking 'bout this with too much gusto - and mermaids apparently weren't all that different. "their skin is sparkly and nice to touch, they're good at all things, they're very kind and if they take off their clothes in the water their tails will spring right out," he'd explained, using eddie's tummy today as a rest for his big, green fairytale manual instead. even drew a couple gel pen mermaids on the freckles of it to show him, ‘cause he drew there a lot at their sleepovers to keep himself from fidgeting. usually cats or rocket ships.  "s'a big no-no if you let all the humans know...kicked out of atlantis for good, bubba. so like i said, don't worry 'bout the details."

* and eddie’s heart had never healed so fast!

* richie's grand theory also came with a solution, too; a cherry-red swim shirt made of nice, clean lycra, presented to eddie with a wobbly flourish in maggie tozier's holiday drawer. turns out they went on lots of expensive beach holidays with richie's dad's paychecks, and even that richie tozier wasn't all that fond of taking his t-shirt off either, but for different reasons. he got bad eczema all over his middle and it left lots of itchy scars and pimples in the driest parts. "it's not a shirt shirt so i think it'll be allowed. keep your tail in too, i promise," he'd said, helping eddie slip it (half) past those soft love handles. there was a pretty glint in his eye that told eddie he was talking about much more than a 'tail'; that he knew it full well, too. only magic was a little bit easier than the truth just for now.

* "thanks, richie, i love you very much."

* "i love you triple-chocolate!"

* was a real shame richie couldn't have had the rest of their grade under that funny spell of his, however. the boys in eddie's gym class did not believe in magic, and if they ever could have, they certainly would not believe it would be anywhere near eddie kaspbrak's tum. no, that was something to giggle at, on a par with calling your teacher 'mom' or someone farting in an assembly. they took great pleasure in hiding and tugging and even forcing that swim shirt right back off over eddie's head at every nasty opportunity, making him cry into richie's funny raccoon sweater after the very next swim lesson all over again.

* "ch, ch, ch, they're lying, tiny...they don't mean it...ch, ch..."

* this would set a pattern for the rest of eddie's teenage years - getting a little bit of confidence and those bony-kneed boys in his grade knocking it back down again. his mother's guilting tears over the candy stashes tucked in his pillowcase and his not fitting in her handmade, hideously embarrassing halloween costumes were one thing, but this was a whole 'nother.

* like when he sometimes raced richie and his big shepherd dog called honey 'round the tozier’s backyard, and, although richie was the slowest runner in their grade, found himself at sixteen years old beating him quicker and quicker. quick enough to try out for track behind his mother's back and, god, even get in. needless to say, his teammates had taken one look at eddies tummy bouncin' left and right on his brand new track shorts' waistband through his sprints, and had given him hell. even when he'd proved himself far beyond the fastest.

- as he grew older, hitting crossfire with the track team, soccer coach, and even himself, a sadness started to boil up inside. right in the pit of his stomach. kept him from ever looking too long in those awfully long ‘body-mirrors’. he’d skip out on the Tozier’s neighborhood barbecues, fearful that richie might somehow convince him into the pool somehow. that one curly boy always had a way into eddie’s heart. felt like a glittery snake would wrapping ‘round his arteries and squeezing out so much love over his braces-filled smile. he was a sucker for richie, alright. and this persistent anxiety sucked. it just sucked. eddie often thought of that hopeless feeling as a bird. a gentle brown bird that was perched atop his right shoulder, singing directly into his ear. the songs were never as nice as the old birdie looked, often carrying thorny messages, reminding him to pull his shirt down and sit up straight, to suck in his breath and practice his exercises. and after a strenuous fight with ma, or perhaps a terrible test score, it’s nasty talons dug deeper. soon, it wasn’t a songbird anymore, but a pecking vulture, tapping at the very back of eddie’s head with a crooked beak and beady eyes. those nights were the worst.

- so, he’d often call richie.

- he was never one to beg for acceptance. that was something he knew was always earned. like some days he’d have to do double chores for his ma to stop playing her ‘ignoring game’ and maybe play a board game instead. something to reassure himself he wasn’t a floundering shadow at times. so, he always felt foolish pleading down the phone for richie to talk to him. but the taller boy never seemed to mind too much, always a mixture of sunshine, candy, and lispy braces as he whistled down the phone. it drowned the bird’s endless caws.

- “hi, richie. c-can you tell me that one- uh that one story again? about the angel and the goose, please?”

- the night would be spent under a makeshift fort built from a thin white sheet draped over his shiny headboard and hooked over his homework desk chair, home phone pressed against his ear and smile as wide as the atlantic ocean. the pair would be as sleepy as banana slugs the next morning, having stayed up well past a reasonable hour. but, it always made those awful thoughts whisk right out of eddie’s head and straight down the toilet. sometimes he’d wave down the drain after his nightly bathroom trips, imagining some of those awfully prickly thoughts rolling round and round the toilet bowl. he suspects that’s when he started loving richie. but yet again, he sometimes thinks he’s loved him forever.

- after richie and eddie had finally sputtered out confessions of painstakingly long-awaited love, hands clutching on to one another’s and hearts louder than drummer boys, things got a bit brighter for the boy made of sunshine.

#my girlfriend #chubby eddie kaspbrak #he's an angel #richie tozier #reddie #incredibly long perhaps maggie and i went off