Do Not Fucking Touch Me // Reddie

Fifty Four

(Richie's POV)

The day got better after the awkward sub conversations and stares dulled. Friends were friends again. I was normal again. I looked over at Eddie in the midst of all the conversations and laughter that was going on. I was stuck in that moment, the bliss of it all. The sunlight from the window poured in and illuminated on him. He looked angelic, ethereal. He truly was my angel. He saved me.

It pained me to know that underneath that beautiful exterior, he was hurting. He still was. I could tell. Before I came back from my treatment, he said he had spent every night wondering if I was okay, stuck in bed for the beginning of his summer. I knew that before all that, he hurt even more. He had my name written on his skin forever in scars. 

He covered them, and they were healing, but I wanted it gone. I wanted to completely erase the scars and the pain and the suffering and replace it with love. I had so much in my heart for him. It was stored away, and kept just for him. I could fill olympic swimming pools with the amount of love I could give him. 

That was the moment I decided to give it all away. I would drain myself dry from love so he could be drowned in it forever. I was going to marry Eddie. Not soon, obviously. We were fourteen. But I would marry him. I was determined and dead set to love him for eternity.

He glanced at me, probably seeing out of the corner of his eye that I was gazing upon him. He smiled that soft little smile that always gave me butterflies in the pit of my stomach. His eyes sparkled in the light and he looked at me like I was everything to him. It amazed me more and more every day I was with him, that someone could look at me like that. 

After hanging out, exchanging hugs, and letting Lucy know again that it was great meeting her, Eddie and I left Stan's house. We needed to be home for dinner. It would be my first family dinner in a long time, certainly the first in a long time that I would eat at. A milestone for me, absolutely. 

The thought of spaghetti terrified me. Food terrified me. For almost a year, it came to me in the form of a monster. It didn't hide under my bed or lurk in the woods or stare at me through the window late at night. This monster came about at the most untimely moments. It came when I ate, and every moment before and after that. The monster was all I could think about. 

Tonight I was going to conquer the beast. The damsel in distress, in this particular fairy tale, being my dearest Eddie, needed me to save him. In order to be able to do that, I needed nourishment I could only get from killing the monster and showing it who the boss really was. This was a technique I learned in treatment, to think of the hunger and the food and calories as something more, a metaphorical monster and envision myself killing it. 

Carbs were the least of my concerns now. Three hundred calories per cup serving, as I carefully calculated. I was up to one thousand calories a day, now. I certainly wasn't meeting it every day, but it was good to set a goal. Having that as my safety net let me not feel guilty for indulging in a second helping of spaghetti with grandma's secret recipe for meat sauce. 

We sat around the dinner table, my dad at the head, my mom across from him, and Eds and I sat awkwardly along the side next to each other. He held my hand loosely under the table to suppress any anxieties I may be feeling at the time. I felt the letter E from the charm on the necklace he gave me cold against my skin, I was reminded of my purpose. I was going to get better for Eddie, and for me.

My mom cautiously pushed the bowl of spaghetti towards me. Eddie took it first, assuming I would need some time to adjust. He took the tongs and portioned himself out a heavy amount of the pasta, and dropped the noodles on his plate. He then reached across the table for the meat sauce, took the ladle and poured it on top. He then looked at me, not touching his food.

I guess that meant it was my turn. I repeated his process, with a significantly smaller portion size with each. I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to shut my brain off temporarily, so that the taste was the only thing that registered in my brain. Eddie squeezed my palm and I lifted my fork, swirled it around the plate, and lifted it to my mouth. Without second thought or giving myself a chance to change my mind, I took a bite. 

It was delicious. I took another bite, and another, and soon I was fully binging the carb-loaded goodness without feeling guilty. I knew it would bite me in the ass later. I didn't care. If this was what I needed to do to be normal again, that's what I'd have to do. 

Eddie smiled and I swear I saw him shed a tear. My parents were pleasantly surprised. After my cue, we all dug in to the feast together. 

I was starting to feel something again. More than that, I felt sane again.