Reddie Oneshots

🌥️•Blades and healing hearts•🌥️

⛈️TW: implied abuse, s/h⛈️

"Richard Tozier. I'm your mother! How could you do this to me!" The tall woman stood over the taller boy of who was curled up on the floor, holding a small blade that was dripping blood. "I have done nothing. NOTHING! But protect you. And this-" She thrusts the blade toward him "is how you repay me?!" Richie gasped for air as he cried.

"Get the fuck up, Richard." Richie stood up and looked under him. a small pool of blood had gathered there. He looked at his feet, still sobbing. His mother grabbed his hair and forced him to look at her. She brought her hand up and across his face, leaving Richie with a dazed expression and a red mark on his face.

"Get out of my face." She said, pointing towards his open door. Richie clutched his wrist and wiped his eyes and running nose with his stained sleeve. His arms burnt as his jacket rubbed against the open slits on his arm, neglected and refused care. He walked into his room, then into the small bathroom attached. He looked into the mirror and stripped his clothes off. He refused to look at his body. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in a few days, as his mom never gave him food. He got in the shower, ignoring the searing pain from his wrists.

At school the next day

Richie walked over, dragging his feet to his friends. He stopped halfway to his destination, looking up at his friends, taking a deep breath and smiling, clutching his backpack straps. He walked to Eddie and threw his arm over his shoulder. "What's up guys! I'm here!" He said happily, secretly wishing he wasn't there. "H-hey Richie." Bill said, annoyed. The rest of the group ignored him and continued their conversation.

Richie looked down sadly and dropped his arms to his sides, messing with the hem of his pants. He had been rejected by his friends. He let a tear stray down his face, and he mentally cursed himself. "Fuck." He mumbled. "What was that Richie?" Beverly asked sweetly. Richie had always liked Beverly. She was nice, sweet, pretty. She was nothing like Richie. That was probably the reason he looked up to her so much. "Nothing." He said quietly. The losers were obviously suspicious at Richie's quiet act.

In class, Richie had his head down and he was quiet. No one had noticed the large purple bruise that was sitting on his face yet. As soon as the bell rung, his teacher, Mr. Halloway, called Richie to his desk. "Richard, come here, son." Richie liked Mr. Halloway. He always made him feel good. Richie trembled, waiting for him to yell, as his mother does. "Hello, Richard. I've noticed you were quiet in class today and you have a bruise? Are you okay?" He asked, genuinely concerned for Richie. Richie looked up and smiled.

"Just an off day I guess. I was on my bike and fell off." Mr. Halloway looked suspicious, but nodded reluctantly. "Okay, son. If there's any issues you can talk to me. I'm proud of you." Richie's face lit up and he smiled. "Thank you sir." He said, smiling, with a pink tinge to his face. "Go to lunch now. And make sure to eat." Richie nodded and left the room. He went to the bathroom and sat on the floor of the biggest stall and wiped his eyes. The words 'I'm proud of you' ring in his head constantly like a bell.

After school, out front.

Richie walked over to his group, eyes a bit red and puffy. "Hey guys! What's up Eddie spaghetti!" he said, ruffling Eddie's hair. "Stop calling me that! I hate it when you call me that!" He yelled, despite giggling as Richie ran his fingers through his hair. The truth is, Richie had liked Eddie. No. Loved Eddie. He loved the short boy more than himself. "I know you love it Eds! I know!" He joked, then letting go of him soon after to turn to Stan, who was unamused. "Hey, Rich. I was going to go bird watching later if you wanted to come. You can tell me about Street Fighter and all of that." Stan smiled at Richie, who now had stars in his eyes. "Really!?" He asked, smiling. "Yeah." Stan said.