Tw: sensitive topics; suicide attempt
The ride to Bill's house was, in Richie's opinion, the longest bike ride they had ever taken. Obviously most of that had to do with Eddie and how scared Richie was for him. The other part was that it was a mile to Bill's and that's further than the distance between all of the losers' houses combined.
Once they arrived at Bill's house, Richie carried Eddie up to Bill's room and sat him down on the bed. He tried to look at his injuries, but Eddie hid his legs and ankles as much as possible.
"Eds, I'm trying to help you," Richie said, a pleading tone in his voice.
Eddie looked up at him, new tears in his eyes. "Why?" he asked so quietly that Richie barely heard it.
"Because you're hurt and you don't deserve anything that happened to you," Richie answered plainly as Eddie inched further away from him.
"You... you don't know me," Eddie whispered. "I've only known you for two days."
"I want to get to know you. You're funny, you're smart, you're beautiful, and you've gone through shit that no one should have to. I know I don't know you well, but I want to."
Eddie let out a shaky breath. "I'm a mess. Why would you want to bring a mess around your friends? They're... they're good people. I'm nothing."
Richie wanted to cry. He also really wanted to kill Eddie's mom.
"You're not nothing. Don't ever fucking say that."
Eddie shut his mouth instantly as Richie's face changed from soft to angry.
"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," Richie said, noticing that his anger was scaring the boy in front of him.
"Y-you're not?"
"No, I'm not." Richie looked at Eddie, at how sweaty and gross he seemed from being given little to no care. "Do you want to take a shower?"
Eddie glanced up at Richie, before nodding. Of course he wanted to shower; he felt gross. Richie was eager to let him shower. Maybe if he was clean and able to relax, he'd feel more human and less like some disgusting thing left on the side of the road.
"Okay, I'll grab you some new clothes and a towel," Richie said, standing up and leaving the room to find a towel.
When he came back, Eddie was still sitting on the bed, biting his nails nervously.
"Eds?" Richie asked, wondering why he was still sitting down anxiously.
"I can't walk," Eddie whispered, his face going red with embarrassment.
"What?"
Eddie showed Richie the ankle where the chain had been. Richie saw that it hadn't just chafed and cut the skin; it had left bruises and swelling all over.
"Oh." Richie walked over to Eddie, who looked like he wanted to crawl away, but sat still. "I can help you get there and then run a bath for you. So you don't have to stand?"
Eddie agreed with a small nod, putting his arm up so Richie could help him walk. He wasn't at all surprised when Richie ignored his arm and picked him up, carrying Eddie to the bathroom.
Richie started running the tub, pouring in bath salts and showing Eddie the Denbrough's collection of soaps and allowing him to choose one.
Once the bath was full, Eddie tried to pull off his sweatshirt, only to hiss in pain.
"What is it?" Richie asked, kneeling down so he could seen Eddie's eyes.
"M-my stomach," Eddie whimpered. He had forgotten all about the cut Henry had made on his chest, and from Richie's expression, he had too.
Richie helped Eddie pull off his sweatshirt and shorts before leaving the room so Eddie could have privacy.
Eddie didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to be seen either. As soon as he pulled off his underwear he managed to crawl over to the tub and ease himself in.
For a long time he kept his eyes closed and let himself feel like the water was washing away all of his pain and sadness. However, as soon as he opened his eyes and saw the bandage on his stomach and the gross marks on his legs, reality came crashing back down.
That's when he started crying. Hard. He choked on his sobs and couldn't breath very well. As hard as it was, part of Eddie wanted it. He liked not feeling the pain as he was cut short of breath.
"No, you're being stupid," he thought angrily, reaching for his inhaler that laid in the pocket of his sweatshirt.
He inhaled deeply and threw it back on the ground, letting his crying continue. The tears may have come out silently, but his mind was anything but quiet.
"They only saved you because you're so weak."
"They don't even want you here."
"You're wasting Richie's time. He clearly doesn't like you."
"You're better off dead."
Eddie stopped at the last thought. "I'm better off dead," he whispered to himself, looking down at the water.
It was clear and it smelled like peaches from the wash.
"This isn't a bad place to die," Eddie thought, lowering his body closer to the water. He laid his head back and felt the water splash softly against the back of his neck, touching his hair.
He took one look at the ceiling before closing his eyes and lowering his head into the water. He panicked for a second before calming down, knowing that he couldn't breath. He hoped that he'd die quickly, that Richie would find his body and realize he didn't have to deal with Eddie's mess of a life anymore.
"He'll be happy when he realizes that I'm gone," Eddie thought, even though he felt nothing but dread at the thought of leaving the one person who had actually shown affection.
"No," Eddie mentally scolded himself. "You're doing him a favor. He doesn't want you around. You're a burden and his affection was fake. He just felt bad."
Water filled his mouth and throat as Eddie struggled to stay under.
"This is a good choice," Eddie thought, tears mixing with the water that surrounded him. Just before he drifted into unconsciousness, his last venomous thoughts echoed through his head.
"You're sick!"
"You're weak!"
"You're dying now, and even if you hadn't, you'd die alone eventually."
"You're nothing."
All he felt was pain and sadness, the feeling of a broken heart, when the vision beneath his eyelids began to shift to black.
