Richie is sick. And not just 'I have a small fever,' sick. It was more of a 'I need a breathing machine and can't move and I can't stop throwing up,' kind of sick. Richie hardly got sick, as the last time he had gotten sick was when he was eleven, and that wasn't too bad. But now, Richie was basically a walking disease.
Richie didn't even realize he was sick until Beverly pointed it out. He just thought he slept wrong, and that's why his legs and arms and stomach was aching.
He walked down the stairs, being the third one up. Bill was the first, waking up for a third job interview. About an hour later, Beverly woke up at 7:46. And then, at 8:13, Richie woke up.
Richie looked a mess. He looked like a mess always, yes, but something was different. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was a sick kind of raspy. He looked out of breath, and was very pale. "Hey, Ri-woah! You ok," Beverly said as she looked at Richie. Richie nodded and sat in the booth, running his long fingers through his curly mop of hair. "You don't look ok." Beverly walked over and placed her hand on Richie's forehead, and she gasped. "Richie, you're burning up! Like, you're really hot!" Richie sighed, getting out of the booth and standing up. "Jesus, Bev, I'm not dying," Richie said. "I'm sick. So what?"
And now, three hours later, Richie is hovering over a toilet, throwing the food that he never ate. Eddie sighed, rubbing circles on Richie's back as he let the nasty vomit into the toilet bowl. Richie groaned, and stood up and flushed the toilet. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face, and turned to Eddie. "Spaghetti, what's my diagnosis," he said jokingly, yet had a coughing fit soon after. "I don't know. But you should take a shower, rinse off the nasty sweat before you lay down in bed," Eddie suggested, and Richie nodded.
Eddie left the room, giving Richie his privacy. Richie looked at himself in the mirror, his fingertips touching his face. He internally sighed, and began to remove articles of his clothing. He turned the water to a warm temperature, and entered the shower. He let the warm droplets hit his skin and hair, them rolling off and down into the drain. He ran his fingers through his hair, loving how his wet curls were. He washed his body, making sure to clean himself nice. He put shampoo and conditioner into his hair, letting the foamy hair products fall on his back when rinsing.
He got out, taking extra time to dry off. He walked out and into his and Eddie's room, seeing the small boy sitting on his bed. Eddie turned to Richie, and felt himself began to blush. Richie had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and his glasses. He smirked at Eddie, making the smaller boy shift in his seat and blush harder. "Like when I'm sick," Richie said, laughing. Eddie groaned, and decided to tease Richie. He got up, and got to Richie. Their faces were centimeters apart, and he slowly took Richie's glasses off. "I like your eyes, Rich. They're nice." Richie blushed, but not very noticeably. He cupped Eddie's face with his hands, and leaned in. He kissed him, lovingly and passionately. Richie pulled back, smirking again. "You do realize that I'm sick, right?" Eddie practically screamed while Richie laughed hysterically. "Whatever, Richie," Eddie said, wiping his mouth playfully. "Just rest."
And Richie did just that. He laid in bed, bored out of his damn mind.
Everyone was out grocery shopping for the week, all except Richie. Richie laid there in bed, tapping his foot against the mattress. He decided to grab his notebook and write some things down.
He opened it, re-reading and flipping through the pages, until he found a new one. He grabbed a pen, and began to write.
As soon as Richie heard the car pull up, he hid the notebook and pen underneath the bed, and got out to go downstairs. "Hey guys," Richie said as the six losers entered the home. Richie made his way out the house to help with the groceries.
As Beverly and Mike cooked dinner that night, everyone else was spread out around the house. Stan was doing the laundry, and Bill was 'helping'(if by helping you mean trying to make out with Stan.) Ben was reading, Richie was asleep, and Eddie was cleaning their room.
As Eddie was cleaning out underneath the bed, he came across a notebook. With a suspicious look on his face, he grabbed the notebook and looked at it. "Richie's personal notebook," Eddie muttered. He looked up at Richie, who was sleeping peacefully. "Fuck this, I'm reading it." He opened the first page, and began reading everything he wrote. All 63 pages.
After he finished reading the last page, he woke Richie up. "Eddie, what the fuck," Richie said, opening his eyes and adjusting to the lighting.
"Who the fuck is Bea?!"
A/N ;
Hello! I just want your opinion on a new Reddie book. So, would you guys read a Reddie book where Richie is a ftm transgender, and no one knows but everyone finds out and then the plot will go on from there? I don't know, it's just an idea. Hope you liked this! - M.B.🦋
