What I'm Hiding - Horror!Edd- WATTYS2018

14.

Edd curled up in a ball in his room, trembling in fear. The voice was whispering cruelly to him now, saying how he messed everything up.

That there was no way his friends would take him back now.

And Edd believed it. After all, the voice knows everything.

~*~

Tord paced around in his makeshift lab space impatiently. He was trying to make a plan to get Edd out of that place and fix him.

Pat and Pau were being of no help.

"A demon? I dunno, Tord. It doesn't sound very plausible. Maybe you just gotta accept that Eddie finally snapped," Pau said in his annoying and unHELPFUL VOICE.

"Woah," Pat smiled, "if looks could kill, you'd be deader than dead, Pau!"

Tord turned his steely glare on the Polish male. Pat quickly put his hands up in surrender.

"If you two weren't going to give me any productive advice, why the hell did you even show up?!"

"To be fair, boss, you kinda told us to come here," bushy brows stated dryly.

Tord ran a hand through his hair tufts in agitation. Pat, seeing how Tord was about to completely freak out on the two former pilots, said, "Well maybe we can just sneak him out of there?"

Tord's remaining eye lit up.

"Great plan! And then we can expel whatever is attached to him!"

Pat and Pau nodded uneasily, exchanging a glance in between each other.

This wasn't going to go well.

~*~

Matt felt kind of... empty inside. This whole ordeal with Edd was slowly but surely sucking the energy from him.

It was getting harder and harder for him to slip into his little fantasy world of obliviousness, and easier and easier to slide into hopelessness. He just couldn't muster up the will to be happy.

Sometimes, he found himself wandering aimlessly around Edd's apartment until Tom came and got him; pulled him back to Earth.

The ginger had become rather clingy, often grabbing onto Tom's sleeve or hand in fear of being alone.

It was easier to ignore his phobia of abandonment when the group had been comprised of four, but now his anxiety was just as bad as it was in middle school. Tom was the only one left, and Matt would be damned if he let him slip through his fingers.

He got up, shuffled toward the couch where Tom was watching reruns of The Children, and curled up next to the alcoholic.

Nope. There was no way Matt was going to let Tom leave, too.

//dude, I was looking at some of the latest chapters and noticed an unintentional subplot: Matt's deteriorating mental state. I put more of it in this chapter, but I'm afraid of playing with it too much and accidentally turning the story focus to everyone's favorite ginger.
I might continue with it??? Probably.//