Whumptober 2020|| Reddie

1. Stabbed

A/N: Greetings. I'm not really sure what to say in this author's note, but I feel like I should say something.
So, hi. I hope you enjoy this Whumptober full of tears and angst and whump (obviously) and fluff.
And stabbing.

      "Hey, Eds!"

     Eddie turned around, rolling his eyes. "For the last time, don't call me-" He paused. Richie was leaning slightly to the side, holding his middle. "Are you okay, Richie?"

     Richie gave him a forced smile that looked more like a grimace. "M'fine. Bowers decided it was a good time to beat me up because, you know, he's Bowers. But I'm fine!"

     Eddie crossed his arms, viewing Richie suspiciously. "He beat you up?"

     Richie nodded, still clutching his side. "I'm fine. Come on, there's Bev and the others."

     They wended through the Barrens, finally coming to the trapdoor. Ben pulled it open, motioning for them to climb down.

     Eddie raced to the hammock, clambering in before Richie could reach it. But instead of making some snarky comment, Richie just collapsed into it next to him.

     "Richie, at least let me check how bad he beat you up," Eddie insisted, brow creased with worry.

     "How come you were late, Richie?" Stan asked as the others climbed down.

     "I was fucking your mom, Urine," Richie said casually- or it would be casual, if he wasn't still covering his stomach with his hand- and if Eddie hadn't spotted a red spot spreading on his shirt.

     "Richie," Eddie said sharply.

     Richie rolled out of the hammock, getting shakily to his feet. "Okay, so Henry might've taken out his switchblade during the fight, but-"

     "Richie!"

     "I just- didn't want to-" Richie tilted so severely to the side that Eddie had to grab him before he hit the floor.

     He laid Richie gently on the floor to assess the damage. "S'my fault," Richie mumbled. "I was-"

     "It is not your fault, Rich," Eddie said fiercely. "It's Henry's. That sick bastard . . ."

     He slowly lifted up Richie's shirt, fighting to stop the blush creeping up his face. Stop it, now is definitely not the time-

     "Jesus," he muttered under his breath. A fabric was hastily wrapped around his middle, but blood had long since soaked through. He looked desperately at the others.

     Stan moved closer, bending down next to them. "The wound looks like it went in a bit more than a half inch. He, uh," his eyebrows creased nervously. "He probably won't d- we really should get him to a doctor."

     Eddie's breath thinned and whistled. His throat felt as if it was getting smaller and smaller as he fumbled for his inhaler. What if he dies what if he dies how didn't I notice I'm a terrible friend I'm-

     "Hey," Eddie felt Bev's hand on his shoulder. "Breathe. What do we do next?"

     "Eddie," Richie slurred. "Feel weird. It h'rts." Eddie saw with horror that tears had sprung in Richie's eyes.

     shit shit shit shit-

     "Okay, uh-" Eddie pulled off his sweatshirt, pressing it against the bloody wound. "We need to- elevate it above his heart? And get him to the emergency room."

     Eddie tried and failed to pick Richie up. Mike moved closer.

     "No- I got him-" Eddie insisted, even though it was clear that he didn't.

     "It's okay, Eddie," Bev pulled him slightly away. "Mike's strongest. He-he can carry Richie."

     Eddie nodded distractedly, suddenly aware that his face was wet. He hastily scrubbed, but that only spread the tears everywhere.

     They rushed out of the Barrens, forced to leave their bikes behind. Eventually, they reached the hospital.

     The next few hours were a blur of doctors until, finally, a nurse emerged from Richie's room, saying they could come in.

     Eddie almost sprinted in. He saw, with relief, that Richie was sitting up in the hospital bed, grinning crookedly at him.

     "Oh, thank fuck," Eddie breathed. He moved towards the bed, leaning over Richie. "I swear to fucking God, Trashmouth, if you ever do that again-"

     "Wow, love you too, Eds," Richie said, then froze, apparently realizing what he'd said. He scratched the back of his head, a look of distinct panic on it. "I mean- . . . fuck."

     Eddie let out a strangled laugh, then, before he could stop himself, leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

     Both their faces turned redder than Bev's hair. Eddie shrugged, leaning over, and kissed him again.

     He's safe. It's okay. We're gonna be okay.