Lover | Richie Tozier

Chapter 14.

Elle
---------------------

"Fuck, are you sure you're okay, man? He got you pretty good," I asked Richie, who was nonchalantly wiping a stream of blood off of his eyebrow. It dripped onto the counter underneath him and he used his sleeve to wipe it up, staining the fabric around his inner-wrist.

After Henry had planted his rings into Richie's chest a few more times and walked away in vengeance, Richie's back collided with the brick wall in relief. His eyes met with mine, so stirred that he could still see the fear disappearing into the black center. There was no way in the deepest depths of hell that I was going to let him walk down the hallway with a busted mouth and a seeping temple, so I locked away my terror and guided him to the locker room where I could inspect the real damage.

"I'm fine," he assured, giving me a small smile. His bruised lip swelled, turning a dark red as the blood inside of it leaked.

"Jesus Christ," I grabbed the back of his neck gently. "No you're not. You can't go to class like this, Richie." I clenched tightly onto the blood stained paper towel I was holding, clenching my jaw as if I was the one feeling all the pain.

Being held so carefully like that made Richie tense, but he wouldn't tell anybody that.

I threw away the towel in my hand, leaving it to pile up inside of the trashcan with a lineage of other napkins stained from Richie's face. "Can you just... can you stay right here for a minute, please? I mean it. Do not fucking move."

He threw his hands up in the air, his injured palms displaying themselves with harsh roughness and vulnerable softness at the same time. "Alright, alright. Not moving," he surrendered, evident that he was at least a little threatened, presumably not wanting to disobey and piss someone else off. He watched me leave with eyes softer than I ever thought possible.

I swam through the waves of students, scrutinizing the many faces that passed me, looking for one in particular. I bumped past couples who were grotesquely shoving each other into lockers, sucking harshly at the others' face, and students who showed no remorse for the others around them, but never someone who was minding their own business. The one I was looking for always did, as if the world around them never fully rendered.

At the end of the hall in the midst of the pandemonium was a bright orange shirt that burned like the head of a match. Attached to that match was a fannypack, emanating the piquant flame that was Eddie Kaspbrak. I took a deep breath, drinking in the air, and ambled towards him slowly.

"Eddie, hi," I made my presence known quietly, already feeling awkward for approaching him in such a subtle way. He didn't know me, and I certainly didn't know him, and fuck knows that Eddie isn't quaint with strangers.

He turned, large brown eyes tucked under thick eyebrows, and lifted his freckled button nose with a smile. "Hey! It's.... hold on, I've got this. Elle, right? Or Elowynn? Elo-Winnie the Pooh? Something like that I think," he spoke suddenly, every word leaving his mouth with ease that Bill Denbrough could only dream of.

For someone who purposefully didn't talk to many people, he sure seemed pretty excited to be talking to me.

"It's Elle," I clarified, turning my lips upwards a slight amount. "You can call me Elowynn, if you'd like, and if it's easier for you. But uh, how are you doing this morning? Good I hope?" I flinched back, asking the question and feeling fucking stupid while I did it.

The heel of my shoe scraped against the ground anxiously, tapping the tile as I couldn't seem to stand still. I cared how Eddie was doing, certainly, but maybe not in this very moment. Visions of Richie bleeding out in the locker room flashed in my mind like a glitch in my realities.