fifteen // reddie

1.0

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.

A fifteenth birthday means that you and your soulmate finally get linked, no matter their age (but it's usually within a year of yours).

A fifteenth birthday means that you'll be able to fear any intense emotions your soulmate feels and they'll feel yours.

A fifteenth birthday means you'll feel their pain and they'll feel yours.

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.

The Loser Club is walking an a clumped line, all wet with their clothes stuck to their skin from not drying off enough after jumping in the quarry, all loudly singing to Richie. He's the oldest of the group, and therefore the first to turn fifteen.

"H-Happy fifteenth birthday." Eddie said timidly.

"Eds, you're so adorably sweet!" Richie coos immediately, throwing his arm around his friend and pulling him closer, leaning his head against him with a bright smile. The day was coming to an end, and all around the oranges of day were slowly turning purple.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, fag!" A high-pitched voice called out, causing the group to pause. It was long enough- suddenly, there was a burst of action, and Richie was pulled off Eddie and away from the others. Eddie and the others tried to grab him but were all too late, only grasping at his shirt before it slipped out of their hands.

None of them had been surprised to see Henry Bowers, Vic, Belch, and Patrick. They were stupid seventeen year old bullies who had nothing better to do with their lives than hurt other people.

But all of them had been surprised to see the knife.

"Bowers..." Beverly said quietly, stepping closer to Ben, who still has an almost-H scar on his belly.

"Come on, man, not on my birthday." Richie said, struggling against them. 

The groups are at a standstill, facing across from each other. One of Henry's goons is on each of Richie's arms and Patrick his holding him from behind, locking him in place. Henry waves the knife teasingly. "Of course, on your birthday! I heard all the commotion. I just came to help." He smiles, and Richie jerks, yet remains locked in his position.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Don't tempt me!"

"Well, you're gonna do it anyway, asshole!" Richie shouts back, causing Henry to step closer to him.

Eddie is holding onto Stan's- who happened to be next to him- arm, and his grip becomes tighter, almost bruising. Stan doesn't say anything.

Richie feels his heart slamming in his chest, feeling like he may explode. It's too much. He doesn't know why he's so scared. He's been beat up by Henry and his friends before, and he's fought back before, but he's never felt such numb terror gripping at him, freezing him. Maybe it's the added addition of the knife.

Then Richie gets an idea. Not a very smart one, but it's an idea.

Henry Bowers is in his face, too close, sneering, flaunting his weapon. And Eddie looks terrified.

Richie does the only logical thing.

He spits in Bower's face.

The next few moments pass by very slowly.

First, Henry slashes. There's a collective cry from the Loser club and he sees them all rush towards him, but not before the searing pain across his chest flares up, burning like fire. Then, there's a scream. It's not from Richie- he had grunted, but contained himself- but from someone else. The person he screamed collapsed falls Richie didn't get to see who because there were already fists in his face making the scene blurry and his chest hurts so badly and now he's shouting Eddie's name but other voices are too? He feels fists and feet and hands and pulling and pushing and then he feels nothing, feels himself smack onto the ground, feels the burning of rocky pavement against his cheek. Then he can breath. He coughs, trying to get onto his knees. He feels more hands, flinching away until he realizes it's from his friends rather than bullies.

"Richie? Richie, can you hear me?" Richie wants to say yes, but his ears are ringing and everything sounds like he's underwater.

Richie sits up, and he realizes that he can't see. His glasses aren't on his face anymore, and his other eye is all red. He sees a shape on the ground on all fours, wheezing in a yellow shirt and red shorts, and vaguely recognizes who it is. "Eddie?" He mumbles.

"Richie, over here. Let's focus on you first." A voice calls out. Richie feels a hand on his face and then his head is being turned to face Bill, who's pushing something closer to Richie. His glasses! He feels them rest on his nose and slip over the tops of his ears, slotting into place. One eye is still all red, but Richie can see out of the other one despite a small crack on the lense.

"His eye, Bill." Most likely Bev murmurs. Richie's ears are startling to clear up. She reaches her hand out to Richie's face. Her thumb swipes across his eyes and he blinks a few times. The red is gone but his eye still stings. By now he's realized he's breathing heavily and some part of him feels shocked. Like, utterly shocked. That makes sense, he supposes. He hadn't been expecting to get beat up on his birthday. Still, it felt like something more.

Wheezing.

"... to calm down!" Someone is saying, and Richie can hear it clearly. He looks around for the voice- it's Stan, talking to Eddie, who is sitting on a large rock with one hand pressed to his chest, the other clinging to his aspirator like it could save his life. The hypochondriac is gasping for air can Richie can see tears streaming down his face as his shoulders shudder. Guilt rips through Richie like a meteorite- this was his fault. He shouldn't have provoked Henry. The attack had scared Eddie.

As if on cue, Eddie's eyes snapped towards Richie. "This is not your fault." He says quickly.

"Jesus, Eds, you're acting like you're the one who had got beat up." He laughs. The joke isn't funny at all and a complete sentence makes Richie realize how sore his throat is- he had started screaming, after all. 

Eddie lets out a dry laugh. "Like, technically, I guess." He mutters, then smiles at Richie. The smile seems odd in such a grim situation, but it's truly happy. Stan bursts out laughing, which makes Mike start laughing, which makes Bev, which makes Ben, which makes Bill start.

Richie's confused for a second and then-

Someone (Eddie) screaming.

Eddie collapsing.

The other's calling out Eddie's name.

Eddie on the ground.

Eddie wheezing.

Eddie with his hand pressed against his chest.

How had Eddie known the second Richie felt guilty?

Technically, I guess.

Technically.

Richie is sitting on the pavement on his fifteenth birthday, surrounded by friends. He's got a cut across his chest dripping blood, his glasses are broken, and he's probably bruised everywhere.

But he's got a soulmate.

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.