Don't Touch//Reddie

[Chapter Nine - "Deal?"]

Ever since their little fight, Eddie has only been getting more and more comfortable around the losers, giving them a fist bump when they held their fist up or high fiving them. It may sound small yes, but to Eddie, it was huge, and Richie was there every step of the way. He made sure no one pushed past Eddie boundaries and if they did he would shut it down. He was like Eddie's personal bodyguard, not because Eddie was weak though. Him helping Eddie was like using a car to get somewhere. Sure, Eddie could walk to get where he needed, but it's easier with a car and just makes everything so much more enjoyable.

Sonia was out of the house for a week to visit her sister across the country. She had left Eddie money to feed himself and gave him a two hour lecture about how he needed to take his pills. All of her words just blended into one sentence in his ears "You need to listen Eddie, because without me you would be dead". Sure he was anxious to spend so much time alone, but with it came ideas.

"Hey guys, do you wanna come hang at mine today? My mom's out of town and I think It'd be fun" Eddie said with a smile, earning positive reactions from everyone, saying it was a good idea and that they'd all be there.

-TIME SKIP-

Eddie paced his living room, trying to keep his composure as he watched the hands on the clock in their living room slowly turn. He mentally counted down to when the losers were supposed to arrive, only for his thoughts to be interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. He practically sprinted over to the door, smoothing out his clothes before opening it and smiling, seeing Bill and Stan hand in hand by his doorstep. "Hey guys! come on in, you're the first ones here" he said as he moved out of the way to allow them to walk in. He shuddered as Stan's shoulder brushed against his own. He still was uncomfortable with sudden touch- but he was getting better.

One by one, each of the losers arrived, the atmosphere slowly becoming less and less tense as each person walked in. All except for one. Eddie on a bench next to the door patiently, waiting for the last person to arrive. Bill, Stan, Bev, Ben, and Mike just sat ok his couch watching the goldfinch, calling Eddie over every so often. "Hey that guy, Boris, looks like a hotter version of-" Bev started before getting cut off.

Eddie checked the clock 'he was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago' he thought to himself, only to hear a knock at the door. He stood up and answered it quickly, only for his smile to fade as he saw what stood on the other side. "Richie?"

Bev started to agree before looking over and realize he wasn't finishing her sentence. "Rich-" she said softly

There Richie stood, his shirt dirty, bruises slowly forming on his face and torso, and pieces of shattered glass lodged into different parts of his skin. As everyone else looked over, they shared the same shocked expression, worry and panic striking them like an arrow to its target. "I-I-" he stammered, a tear running down his cheek "M-my parents got h-home" he said through sniffles. Eddie quickly grabbed his hand and brought him inside, closing the door behind him as Richie stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Bev was starting to panic, while Ben desperately tried to calm her down. Mike was already grabbing Richie a glass of water and tissues from the kitchen, mumbling himself about how this hasn't happened in a couple months. Stan and Bill just stared in shock, Bill shaking as Stan tried to calm him down.

"What happened?" Eddie asked as he led Richie over to the counter of his kitchen, quickly telling him to sit down. All he received in response was Richie shaking his head no. Eddie simply nodded before rummaging through his fanny pack, pulling out everything he would need. He grabbed a pair of tweezers, carefully pulling out the small pieces of glass before using water to wash off the dried blood and ointments to prevent each would from getting infected. He bandaged him up and smiled "there, all better" he said as he looked at Richie with his doe eyes, the all too familiar smell of rubbing alcohol and vanilla shampoo comforting Richie on its own. The talk boy got off the counter and smiled in return, not because the wounds had stopped hurting, but instead because he finally had someone who cared about him.