Hold Me (Reddie)

Stuttering Bill and Graceful Bev

Beverly Marsh had been the eye candy of every loser but Eddie it seemed. Both Bill and Ben had loved her, of course, but she was also dear to the others. Mike searched for a friend in her. Stanley thought she was the most beautiful thing under the sun, but he and Richie were already crushing on Janice Thompson. Eddie himself was too preoccupied having his tiny crush on Richie. He knew it was wrong, he knew that his dumb little crush would destroy a friendship. But there was nothing wrong with dreaming, nothing wrong at all. In fact, Eddie dreamed about Richie a lot more than you'd expect from a kid who's never even been outside in summer without at least SPF30 on. Most of the time though, it wasn't that. It was SPF50. Eddie, dear, you need to wear your sunblock. You don't want to get burns, you have sensitive skin. It's not safe. God Eddie hated the way his mother was. Of course, he loved her, because he had to, because she was his mom. But if he could choose he'd live with the Denbroughs. They clearly weren't a happy thriving family, but they let Stuttering Bill out whenever he pleased. Even without sunblock.

So the five kids, all in big jackets and boots, stood right in front of the school, waiting for a bus from Portland to arrive any second. Bill was clearly nervous, but all Eddie could do was worry about Richie seeing his palms sweat.

"Hey Eds," Richie said, sitting down right next to Eddie on the front steps of the school. "I never asked. Do you like Bev?"

"Of course, she's nice," Eddie told his beautiful friend.

"No, you shitbrain. Do you like her? Do you love her? Do you have like, weird sexual fantasies about her or whatnot?" Richie always had a way of making things sound sophisticated. God it made Eddie happy.

"No," Eddie said honestly.

"Don't tell me you like Janice Thompson," Richie urged. He was biting his lip a tiny bit and it made Eddie's heart start to flutter rapidly. He needed to keep himself together! He wasn't a failure, was he?

"No."

"Then who?"

Eddie glared at the one he actually did have a crush on. For some reason it was so prominent today. "I don't really want to discuss this." By now their conversation had gained the attention of all the other losers on the bench. They were all looking at Eddie, sour-faced.

"It's here!" Mike began yelling, pointing to the bottom of the street. Sure enough, a janky looking bus came bounding alone right up to the bus stop. The door opened and out came the red head. She was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and was still rocking the same haircut she had in the summer. They all came together, but Bill couldn't help but fall into her outstretched arms.

"God, I've missed you," he laughed. He broke the hug and kissed her on the lips, but the kiss didn't last very long before she started laughing and broke away.

"That was quite the welcome back, Billy," she practically sang, and kissed him again. After the second kiss, she finally looked around at the other kids standing behind. "Where's Ben?"

"He moved," Stan said. Eddie noticed how his voice was a little shaky.

"That's too bad. I had written him a poem," Beverly said, her gloved fingers tight around the edges of a black and white postcard. Of course Eddie's mind started to wonder, down this annoying path of stupidity in which he himself would write a poem to Richie. It was dumb. He knew he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't write poetry, and even if he could, Richie would find out he was the one who wrote it. But hey, Eddie could dream.

"A puh-puh-poem?" Bill asked dismally. His eyes were now looking downwards, towards Bev's converse.

"Yeah," Beverly said nervously. "But then again, I didn't expect everyone to show up here. They look good. Mike's tall, Stan's got some muscles, and Richie's hair...damn." Eddie started to worry that he was invisible. Beverly was talking to Bill as if all the losers weren't even there, and Eddie hated each second of it. He tapped Richie's shoulder.

"I better go home now," he said, walking over to the tree his bike was parked against. For some reason, Richie followed.

"I'll come with you," he proposed. "Make sure you don't somehow die along the way or anything."

Eddie felt dumb for doing it, but he smiled at the fact that Richie cared. Well, of course Richie cared. They were best friends, best friends always cared. The mounted their bikes and started along Main Street. "You could've stayed there, my mom just wanted me home by noon. I have a doctor's appointment." Eddie didn't actually have an appointment, he hadn't had one since Wednesday. But he knew Richie would believe him.

"Nah, I don't have any desire to see Billy Willy kiss Bevvy Wevvy. She doesn't belong here, you know? We've been friends with Bill forever, like seven years now, and she appears for four seconds and suddenly we're garbage. Bill was fine, then she came around, and suddenly he's stuttering all over again. It's no coincidence." Richie was ranting. It wasn't like him to rant. Especially about his friends like that. Was he jealous? Did he like Bev, too? Great, Eddie thought, just great!

"I didn't know you cared so much," Eddie laughed, skidding his bike to turn onto Willow Street. The fresh slate of ice from the night before sent him jutting sideways, until the front tire of his bike hit the sidewalk and he was thrown off, straight to the ground. His head made instant contact with the pavement and he felt the blood start to drip down as he tried to sit up.

"Eds? Eds? Are you okay?" Richie was screaming. He threw his bike to the ground and ran to Eddie's side, looking at the cut on his forehead and the scratches all over his hands. Eddie was just trying not to cry. He didn't want to cry, not in front of Richie. He didn't want to be the source of another joke. Eddie reached into his fanny pack, taking out the tissues and a big square bandaid. He opened the small packet of tissues, but Richie took them from him. "Hey, don't worry. I'll get it." Richie patted the tissue against Eddie's forehead, and then placed a bandaid on top. Eddie didn't cry. He wasn't a baby.

"Don't make jokes about this, Richie," Eddie demanded. He would never be able to handle that.

"I won't. Let's get you home now, Eds."