An Inhaler Isn't Needed

Chapter 5

After his encounter with whatever the fuck that was, Richie raced home.

Luckily, he’d remembered to grab his glasses. Unluckily, they were even more cracked on the nosepiece than when they were at school.

He had to fold them carefully and put them on the front of his shirt, lest they fall off his nose again and break more.

He made it safely home, though he was exceptionally late.

His mother, who’d apparently been sitting on the porch waiting for him, rushed to Richie while he was putting up his bike.

Richie flinched, expecting to be scolded for being so late, as well as for not wearing his glasses. Instead, his mother gave him a quick hug, then pulled back, her hands on his narrow shoulders, “Where have you been?”

He lied through his teeth, trying to avoid eye contact if at all possible. His eyes would give his lie away. “I, uh, sorta got lost; forgot my route from school. Sorry, Mom.”

She pursed her lips, probably deciding on whether or not to believe him. She must have accepted his story as the truth, because she gave him a curt nod, patted him on the back once, and said, “Go on upstairs and get cleaned up, then.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until a sigh of relief escaped him. He bounded up the stairs with as much energy he could muster after all that had happened to him in one single day.

He skipped the shower, because, honestly, standing while the pressure of the water beat down on his head did not sound like fun for someone as tired as he.

His first friend, the ghost, was sitting on his bed. Well, not exactly sitting, Richie knew, he couldn’t truly touch it. Richie’s eyes lingered on the area where Eddie’s barely outlined crossed legs was floating just above the sheets on his bed.

Floating.

That voice echoed in his active mind. You know who floats, Richie? Eddie floats! Yes, he does!

Eddie had been holding his face in his hands, obviously bored with the book he was reading. Richie wondered why Eddie could hold onto the book when he couldn’t touch Richie earlier. “You look like trash.”

Richie gave a little smile, “Best compliment in a while, thanks.” The words were sarcastic, but it didn’t quite show in his tone.

Eddie rolled his eyes, which, Richie noticed, were a darker type of grey than the rest of his pale form. They must have been a really dark colour when he was living. “What happened to you?”

Richie played off the pain in his knuckles and the slight headache that had formed in his temples. He walked with confidence over to his bed, sitting beside the ghost, “Just got the ladies fawning all over me. They roughed each other up so much, fighting over me, y’know? I got secondhand hurt from it.” He flashed Eddie a bright grin.

He could tell Eddie noticed the waver in his smile. “Cut the crap, Tozier.” His hard-pursed lips loosened up a little, his expression softening just a bit, “It was Bowers, wasn’t it? Henry?”

Richie could lie to just about everyone. It didn’t really matter; most of his lies were made for a good reason, anyway. Hell, he’d just lied to his mother not five minutes ago without second thought, but...something about the way this kid was staring him down-stern, but also...comforting…? He couldn’t do it.