𝔸 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝔹𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕪 𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖 - reddie

#𝟛: 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 ℍ𝕚𝕞 𝕋𝕠𝕠, 𝔻𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕒?

After plenty of late night snacks, pixie stick consumption, and about 50 "your mom" jokes later, Bill decided to play some cinema classics. I had denied this, saying that horror movies would be better, but he wasn't too fond of the idea. Neither were the rest of the losers.

I didn't even know what the movie was; it was long and drawn-out and slow. I settled myself under the covers of the couch blankets, before Eddie returned with a glass of water in his hand. He sat himself right next to me, which was quite a surprise, after past events. I felt my nose redden, and just hoped it wasn't clear behind the darkness of the living room.

"Is this okay...? Am I crowding too much...?" I heard him lean over and whisper, which immediately sent a chill down my spine. Eddie had such a nice voice when he was whispering. It was twice as soft and quicker than his normal voice.

I tried to pretend like I was focused on the movie. "Huh?"

"Would you like me to move over?"

"Nah." I didn't mean to answer as quickly as I did, but his leg brushed mine ever so slightly as he layed back, and it turned me on like there was no tomorrow.

He nodded a bit and started to pick at his nail buds. He usually did that when something was bothering him, and it made me anxious, too.

I knew I'd get stares if I approached the situation like any sane person would, so I hit him with a Classic Richie Tozier. I took Eddie's hands into my own, tenderly, like cradling a baby bird. His hands were petite and warm, with pink patches around his knuckles. His skin was dry, probably from washing his hands too often, but they were still soft all the same. Tingles rushed over my whole body. I needed to think of something witty to say before he questioned it.

"These hands should be put to better use, Eds. You can't give hot handjobs when your fingers look like that."

Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes, but he didn't pull his hands away from mine.

"Don't destroy em like that, okay?" I said in a hushed tone, so the rest of the losers couldn't hear.

"Okay."

"I know your mama would have a stroke if she saw shit like that," I ran my fingers tenderly over the picked skin, which was bleeding just a little. Eddie flinched, and then relaxed. He didn't mind much when he got hurt and I helped; I think he trusted me in that sense.

"That's not another joke, is it, trashmouth?" he asked, and kept the eye contact, which I eventually broke due to the color that kept getting added to my face.

I placed another eccentric hand on my own chest. "No fuckery here, Eddie, darlin'. Just a couple of young lads looking for a good time."

"A good time?"

"Drinks all around."

Eddie smiled just slightly, and I could tell I was cheering him up with my impressions. One point for Tozier. "You've never touched alcohol in your life, Rich. Stop pretending to be a hardass."

"I don't need to pretend, Spaghetti."

Eddie took a breath and slipped his fingers around mine. I swear to fucking god, it gave me a stroke like no stroke ever. I didn't mean to flinch like I did, but I couldn't help it. His hands were cold. Eddie's hands. On mine.

I expected him to go red and then let go. He's held my hand before, sure. He's a scared germaphobe kid that takes an inhaler wherever he goes. But... he usually gets embarrassed around the losers and slips out of my grasp the first chance he gets.

But he didn't. He made eye contact and then looked away, as if to take his attention off his bleeding fingers. 

I opened my mouth. I wanted to say something stupid, and I almost did. But I paused and took in the moment, watching his gentle fingers curl over mine.