Breathe ⭐️ Reddie

39

(This chapter is a filler, sorry my dudes)

Richie felt sick to his stomach. As soon as they got back to the van, he had ignored everyone, drinking a full bottle of vodka that he has stolen and washing that down with even more alcohol.

No one could understand why he wanted to get drunk so early in the morning, but Bill had told them he had fought with someone in the 7-11 and didn't want to feel anything for a while. It wasn't his place to tell everyone that Richie had been fighting with his mother, so he decided to just tell Eddie, who was watching Richie lay on the floor, clutching a half full bottle of beer.

"So him and Mike are brothers?" Eddie whispered to Bill. They sat in the front two seats, with Richie just behind them, holding Eddie's arm with his free hand, staring at the roof of the car.

"Yeah. I th-think he's just been s-stressed and wants to n-not feel for a while. It sh-shouldn't affect his r-recovery if that's w-what you're worried a-about," Bill stuttered out.

They had decided to drive to a vacant lot and to wait for the others to wake up before finishing the trip and finding Eleven.

"Spaghetti," Richie slurred, sitting up and laying his head on the console between Bill and Eddie.

"What is it?" Eddie asked gently, running his hand through Richie's hair, which was soaked with sweat.

Richie turned his head and smiled up at Eddie. "You're so pretty."

Eddie smiled softly, cupping Richie's cheek in his hand. "You need to go sleep off the alcohol, Chee. We need to be ready for the mission," he said, leaning down to kiss Richie's forehead.

Richie, however, frowned and flopped back on the center seat. "That's not fair."

Eddie and Bill exchanged looks before Eddie turned to face Richie. "What's not fair?"

"All you care about is, is the mission," he paused and burped. "You don't care about, care about me."

Eddie frowned at him, climbing into the back seat to sit next to him. "What do you mean? Of course I care about you!"

Richie shook his head. "Then why'd you hate me when I first joined the Hive? You said I was a distraction, Eds. That hurt me a lot."

"I know what I said but I didn't mean it," Eddie said, trying to keep in mind that Richie wasn't in the right mindset.

"Yeah, you did. Because I'm a big mistake. My mom didn't want me, you don't want me, and everyone here doesn't want me."

"Yes we do!"

Richie laughed and shook his head, dropping the bottle to the ground so he could grab Eddie and hold him close. "I really love you, Spaghetti, but you don't love me."

Eddie shook his head. "Who told you that?"

"Me. I told me. Cuz I'm smart. Really smart. I took your rank, remember? Number three, just behind Benny Boy and Big Bill!" Richie exclaimed, flopping backward and laying his head on Eddie's lap.

Richie wasn't making any sense and continued to ramble. Eddie watched as he continued to talk, occasionally laughing.

"Richie," Eddie said after about ten minutes of continuous rambling, in which everyone in the van had woken up, exchanging confused looks.

"Yeah, Eds?" Richie asked with a giggle. "What's going on with you, cutie?"

"You need to sleep."

"No thank you. How about Mike goes back to sleep and you pretend it's me? We look alike," Richie said, laughing at his own dumb joke.

"No, you need to go to sleep. Come on, you're wasted, and we have stuff to do today."

Richie shook his head, pushing himself so he was away from Eddie, leaning against the door to the van. "I don't wanna."

Eddie just sighed, looking to the others for help. They all just shrugged, even Mike Wheeler and his friends, who were obviously lost.

"Come on, Richie. You need to sleep so we can find Eleven," Stan said, handing Eddie a bowl. He knew Richie was going to vomit at some point.

"Do you think Eleven could use her powers to make Eds taller? He's real short." Richie asked, starting to cough. Eddie just barely got the bowl to him before he was vomiting the alcohol up, filling the car with the disgusting smell.

"Disgusting," Eddie muttered, opening the window and pouring the vomit out onto the ground.

Richie began to groan, grabbing his head. "My head hurts," he whined, grabbing for Eddie.

Eddie sighed. "Sorry, you can't have any pain killers. They'll fuck up your recovery."

Richie whined again but didn't protest as Eddie helped him into the backseat. Once he was settled on his back, a blanket covering just his legs, ("If it's on my stomach it'll squish more puke out of me") Eddie laid down next to Richie, trying to convince him to close his eyes and sleep.

"You need to sleep. We need you later," Eddie whispered, wiping the sweat off of Richie's forehead.

"I'm not tired," Richie responded, yawning.

"I know you didn't want to see your mom or hear what she said to you-"

Richie cut Eddie off by putting his hand over his mouth. "Shhhh you're too loud, Spaghetti. My mom is a cunt and she hurts me, but you won't hurt me, right?"

"Right," Eddie said, his voice lowered as Richie requested.

"I love you, Eds," Richie said, closing his eyes, a smile ghosting his face.

Eddie blushed. He had always been told that drunk minds speak the truth, so he chose to believe what drunk Richie told him.

"I love you, too," Eddie murmured.