𝐛𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢; reddie

(vii.)

  AN HOUR, it's been an hour since Eddie had run off. The boy had ended up at the quarry, his 'happy place.' But the guilt of leaving Richie behind had plagued him with bad thoughts and an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

  And now? Eddie's already been sick twice, he's pretty sure if he vomits again, he'll throw up his internal organs and die. The fact that his legs are dangling freely over the edge of a cliff doesn't help with the nausea either.

The naive boy is waiting for Richie to miraculously appear out of thin air and reassure him that everything's fine and dandy. Which Eddie ealises is an incredibly fucking stupid idea.

  "Okay," he thinks, "if Rich isn't here in a minute, I'll go home, take my pills and try to call him."

  Rational thinking, that's progress. Eddie feels slightly better, wiping his watery eyes with the back of his hand.

  A minute goes by. No sign of Richie. He stands and turns on his heel, waltzing out of the clearing and down the road.

-

  Eddie's standing on the edge of his street. He has no recollection of his journey here. Well, he does remember getting stopped by some idiot dressed as a clown, but he didn't bother to give him his attention.

  The boy can see his house down the road, and it's as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He jogs towards his porch and takes the spare key from under the doormat—it's a shitty hiding place, he knows.

  Eddie stumbles through the doorframe, kicking his shoes off and running up the stairs. He doesn't worry about making a mess right now; he knows Sonia's at the pharmacy, probably buying fitness magazines or gazeboes.

  Throwing open his bedroom door, Eddie walks straight over to his desk and grabs the landline, punching in Richie's number with eager, shaky fingers.

  "So I'm lying in your bed lookin' all sexy and you don't bother saying hello? Shame on you Ed's."

  Eddie screams, throwing the phone in the direction the voice came from.

  "Jesus Spaghetti, calm down."

  "Who-" Eddie turns to his bed, only now noticing a figure curled up on it.

  "Richie? Holy shit, Richie! Are you okay? What happened? How did you get in my room?"

  "Easy tiger, you left the window open," Richie rasps, sitting up slowly.

Eddie flinches at the sight. He isn't wearing a shirt, bare torso on full display. It's painted with sickening purple and yellow bruises. Like nothing Eddie has ever seen, he's going to vomit again.

"Bowers fucked me up pretty bad. I could use your help, please."

  Eddie simply stares, frozen in...shock? Horror? Fear?

  "Eddie, please."

Any hint of playfulness in Richie's tone has vanished, he sounds desperate.

  Eddie inhales sharply. Walking to the side of his bed and lifting Richie to his feet.

  "Bathroom," he says, pulling the taller boy along, careful not to injure him further.

  He drops Richie on the toilet seat, reaching behind him for the first aid kit.

  When he's gotten the supplies he needs, Eddie pulls his sweater off and drops between Richie's legs.

  "Oh shit, when I asked for a hand this isn't what I meant, but I'll take it," Richie smirks jokingly, but his eyes are barely open.

  "Shut up, Rich. I borrowed the sweater off Mike, I can't dirty it," Eddie leans forward, pressing a wad of cotton onto Richie's bloodiest wound.

  Richie winces, "Who the fuck is Mike?"

  "Mike Hanlon, he's part of the Loser's Club. Now shut up, I need to focus."

-

"Don't fucking do it, Eddie. I swear to god I'll never forgive you."

"It won't heal if I don't stitch it, asshat." Eddie threads the needle, glancing at Richie wearily.

  Richie has an appalling gash down his waist, and he's losing blood at an alarming rate. Eddie scowls, watching as the white bathroom tiles stain scarlet.

"There's no need for stitches, Ed's. Just suck the wound, get in there!"

"Okay, three-"

"Don't."

"Two-"

"DON'T."

"And one," Eddie pulls the needle through the wound, breath laboured as he concentrates on not hurting Richie.

"See Rich, that wasn't so bad was it?" He looks up, "you've got to be kidding."

Richie's unconscious, head lolled to the side, glasses sliding off his face.

"Brilliant," Eddie grits his teeth, pulling the needle through again. And again. And again.

Once the last stitch is done, Eddie sighs in relief. Now, getting Richie to his room before Sonia comes back; no problem at all.

  Eddie carefully lifts the boy, carrying him bridal-style. He hasn't been captain on the swimteam for three years for nothing. Eddie's no body builder, but his biceps won him second place in Derry's local swimming competition.

He strides out of the bathroom, hitting Richie's head on the doorframe in the process. Hopefully it won't bruise.

  Eddie kicks his door open and drops Richie onto his bed, folding his gangly arms into a pretzel so that he takes up as little space as possible.

He makes sure to lock his door.

Eddie had installed a cheap dollar-store lock a few months ago; to keep Sonia's prying eyes away, and it's proved very useful.

The small boy falls onto his bed, keeping himself distanced from the other boy. But he can't help himself from glancing over at the beautiful boy every ten seconds.

  And he doesn't know if it's because he forgot to take his medication but his heart feels as if it's swelling in his chest.

Authors note:
guys i haven't updated in SO long i'm sorry!! A LOT of shit has happened but i'm getting back on track with life so i should be more active. also i actually left the fandom for a bit but i came back because i'm too emotionally attached to IT hehe. Anyways i'm starting on a new chapter as soon as possible and thank u all for being so patient! feel free to vote and comment if you'd like to bc it makes me SO happy. Also chapter two was fucking amazing and i might make a few references to it in the future. love u all<3

this chapter's for @Cheetosarespicy because your comment is the reason i posted today. and ty for everyone else that asked me to post another chapter i KNOW it's been a long time but you all gave me motivation!