Kisses | Reddie

nineteen ☆ soft voice

by: orphan_account on ao3 (all credit goes to this amazing author)

~~~~~

Ow. Every time I move my arm, my wrist hurts. Even with meds. Dr. Morris said the meds were supposed to make me fall asleep, but my eyes are wide open and the wallpaper in this hospital really sucks. It's all sad and colored that pale purple-blue color, periwinkle.

Stan's leaving me here overnight, I think, something about how he couldn't drive me back to the dorm like this. My arm is all bandaged up. They propped it up on the side of the hospital bed, but I started whining about it, so they let me lay it on a pillow instead.

I'm staring at this fake oil painting of a flower on the wall, when someone knocks on the door. It creaks open a bit, and a head pops in through where it's ajar. It's a boy, and his eyes are big and round and brown. He smiles when he sees I'm awake.

"Meds didn't put you to sleep, huh?" He says, and his voice is soft and kinda high-pitched. I shrug and play with the cast they wrapped around my wrist. It's this tannish color and ugly and not permanent, but they put it there to set my bones, or something.

The boy - he's a man, probably. My age, probably - steps fully into the room, and he's cuter in his full form. He comes to my bedside and places a bottle of water on the corner table. "My name's Eddie Kaspbrak," he greets, holding out his hand to me. I take it with my not-broken-arm and he has a soft grip. The outside of his hand is smooth. "You can just call me Eddie. I'm your nurse, by the way."

I smile back at him, but it's late and I haven't slept since 3am, and I probably look like a maniac. I dunno. "I'm Richie," I reply. "Just Richie."

"Do you want more medication?" He asks, his eyes raking over my broken fucking arm, and I'm hoping he doesn't ask how I broke it because I'm suddenly really self conscious. "Does it hurt?"

"I can just sleep it off," I shrug. His eyebrows furrow, and I feel like a dumbass. "Probably nothin' too bad."

Then he laughs, and it's a really pretty laugh, it's all bubbly and he hiccups at the end. "You arm's broken, but it's not too bad?"

I shrug again, and he just smiles and opens the plastic water bottle for me. It doesn't have a label, no Poland Springs or anything, it's just plain. Guess it's hospital brand.

"Asprin. It'll help for now," he explains as he hands me some tiny pills. "Take those, 'kay? I'm going to get more pillows for you. Then you're gonna try to sleep." His hand comes up and moves a curl out of my face, and I actually stop breathing. I think.

He smiles softly and leaves the room. I swallow the pills and gargle some water around in my mouth, trying to get to taste of blood out. I don't know why it was still there. I didn't know if the cuts on my face were still open, or if the bruise on my cheek is noticeable. I try bringing my left hand up to cover it when Eddie walks in again.

He's carrying at least three pillows stacked up in his arms. He lays them down where my feet are and I flatten my hand out, hovering over my cheek as he comes closer.

He takes the water bottle in my lap and places it on the table. "You okay?" he asks finally. I try to act cool, nonchalant, and shrug again. Cause I'm cool.

"Well, does your cheek hurt?" His hand comes up to mine, pulling it away gently. I hiss when my thumb brushes the bruise, pressing lightly into it. My hand drops to my lap.

"I'm okay," I assure. I glance down at my cast and he nods, concern written over his face as he takes the pillows from the pile. He starts to push in between my shoulder blades, lightly pushing me forward and tucking a plush feather pillow behind my neck. Then he puts one underneath both of my arms, extra gentle on my broken one. When he pulls back, a tuft of hair falls into his face, and he brushes it out of the way with nimble fingers.