My Girlfriends Brother || Reddie

Chapter Eight

Eddie lay on his bed, headphones in, scrolling through his phone with a sense of numb detachment. The second day of school had been a rollercoaster of emotions, leaving him utterly drained. He couldn't stop replaying the scene in the parking lot—Richie stepping in to save him from Henry Bowers, his protective tone, the way he'd put himself between Eddie and danger. It had been overwhelming enough in the moment, but now, hours later, it was all Eddie could think about.

But it wasn't just about Henry. It was about Richie—the way he laughed, the way he ruffled Eddie's hair like it was nothing, the way he made Eddie feel like he mattered. The ache in Eddie's chest grew sharper the more he thought about it. It wasn't fair. Richie was Lexi's boyfriend. He wasn't supposed to be this important to Eddie, wasn't supposed to make him feel like this.

The sudden sound of tapping against the window startled Eddie out of his thoughts. He froze, staring toward the glass, his heart racing. Two more sharp taps followed, and he cautiously got up, pulling his headphones down around his neck.

When he pulled the curtain aside, his eyes widened in disbelief. Richie was crouched on the small ledge outside his window, his sheepish grin illuminated by the faint moonlight.

"Richie?" Eddie hissed, quickly unlocking the window. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Surprise!" Richie said, climbing through the window with surprising ease for someone so tall. "Figured you could use some company."

Eddie gawked at him as he shut the window quietly, trying not to make too much noise. "It's midnight! You're insane."

Richie shrugged, flopping onto Eddie's bed like he owned the place. "Eh, maybe. But you seemed kind of down earlier, and I wanted to check on you. Besides, sneaking into people's rooms is way more fun than texting."

Eddie crossed his arms, trying to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. "You could've just texted me like a normal person."

"Where's the fun in that?" Richie replied, patting the spot on the bed next to him. "Come on, sit. Let's hang out."

Eddie hesitated for a moment before relenting, sitting down on the bed but keeping a careful distance between them. Richie's presence filled the small room, his easy smile and warm energy making it hard for Eddie to hold onto his frustration.

For a while, they just talked. Richie launched into a series of hilarious stories about the kids he babysat, complete with exaggerated impressions that had Eddie laughing so hard his sides hurt.

"And then this one kid, little Timmy," Richie said, his voice high-pitched and dramatic, "looks me dead in the eye and says, 'You're not the boss of me.' So, of course, I had to tell him I was the boss of him. The kid turns around and dumps a cup of apple juice on my shoes. I swear, I almost lost it."

Eddie doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. "Oh my god. That's—poor Timmy!"

"Poor Timmy?" Richie exclaimed, throwing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I was the victim!"

Eddie shook his head, still laughing. "You're probably the worst babysitter ever."

"Probably," Richie admitted with a grin.

The conversation shifted to Eddie's memories with Stan, their childhood adventures, and how they used to build elaborate forts out of blankets and chairs in Stan's living room. The easy back-and-forth flowed naturally, and for a little while, Eddie forgot about everything—school, Henry, and even Lexi.

But the bubble burst when Richie glanced at his phone. His grin faded slightly as he frowned at the time. "Damn. I should probably go see Lexi. She'll kill me if she finds out I came over and didn't say hi."