A/N: ^Did this during geometry because I was bored. The picture is pretty blurry since I did it on my school iPad and took a picture of it, but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also

Um

Holy shit?

I can't believe there's only 3 left.

     "Fuck!"

     Richie leaned over Eddie, peering anxiously at the smaller boy, who was gradually stirring. Eddie groaned and massaged his head.

     "You okay, Eds?" Richie stuck two fingers in front of his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

     Eddie swatted his hand away. "Two, I didn't hit my head that hard."

     Richie saluted, straightening up too. He looked back at Eddie, uncharacteristic nervousness on his face. "What if you have a concussion? Are you feeling okay? How's your head?-"

     "My head would feel a lot better if you shut up," Eddie snapped, then winced. "Sorry. I have a headache."

     Richie held out his arm as though they were going to a dance. "Certainly, my good chap. I say, you did bang your head rather hard, ay wot? Almost as hard as I banged your mom, ay wot? Wot wot?"

     "Beep beep, Richie," Eddie groaned, though he took his arm, face still scrunched in pain. Richie tipped an invisible hat and fell silent as they reached Stan's house.

     "You're late," was the first thing Stan said as he opened the door. The other losers peeked out too.

     Richie bowed, grinning. "The gremlin fell," he said, gesturing to Eddie, who shoved him.

     "Are yuh-you okay, Eh-Eh-Eddie?" Bill asked, looking concerned.

     Eddie nodded quickly, though he still moved gingerly. "Yeah. I'm fine, Big Bill."

     They pounded down the stairs (Richie shouting that he'd beat Bev to the couch), Eddie not far behind.

     Richie tackled Beverly, crowing, "Ha! You lose, Marsh!". As he leapt, catlike, onto the couch, he heard a thud behind them.

     Eddie had fallen to the floor. For one wild moment, Richie thought he was silently laughing, but it became clear that Eddie was not laughing. He was shaking all over and when Richie turned him over with trembling hands, he saw that his limbs were twitching and spasming, his eyes half closed and his teeth clenched.

     The others were yelling wildly, Bev had sprinted upstairs to call 911, Stan was saying something about seizures, but all Richie knew was that Eddie Kaspbrak was twitching and unresponsive in his arms and oh god is he going to wake up what's happening when will it stop-

     Richie was dimly aware of yelling Eddie's name, was dimly aware of leaning over him, unable to help. Eddie couldn't hear him, couldn't see him, couldn't-

     And, just as soon as it started, it stopped, and Eddie was unconscious and unmoving, and Bev had come down the stairs with Stan's parents and help was on the way-

     Richie's face was wet. He refused to move from Eddie's side as finally (or only a minute maybe, either way it felt like eternity), Eddie's eyes fluttered open.

     "What happened?" Eddie choked out, looking up at Richie. "Did I black out?"

     "You . . ." It seemed incredible that mere minutes ago the losers club had been laughing. "You-"

     "You had a seizure," Stan said bluntly, though he too looked pale and shell-shocked.

     Eddie struggled to sit up. "What?" He let out a sharp breath, wincing and touching his temple. "Maybe I do have a concussion. Wait, can concussions cause brain damage?"

     "You tell me, Eds." Richie's voice was still as shaky and fragile as glass. "You're the resident medical expert, aren't you, Doctor K?"

     The sound of sirens echoed from upstairs and Eddie whimpered slightly. "I don't want to go in an ambulance. I'm fine-"

     "Eddie, you just had a seizure," Mike interrupted. "You're clearly not fine."

     Eddie hunched over, leaning against Richie. "Will you come too?" he whispered.

     "'Course, Spaghetti Man." As if Richie was planning on ever leaving his side after that. He slung a gentle arm around the smaller boy, supporting him as they moved cautiously back up the stairs.

     Under other circumstances, getting to look inside an ambulance- let alone ride in one- would be, honestly, pretty cool (and probably lead to plenty of jokes). But any jokes he could think of seemed to die halfway from his brain to his mouth, so he just sat in silence, pressed against Eddie's side as he talked to the first responder.

     "Momma's not going to be pleased," Eddie whispered, apprehension flitting across his face. For once, Richie had no quips (or chucks, as he would call it) about him and Sonia- or rather, he did, but his mouth seemed to have developed some sort of short-lasting filter, and he remained silent. Well, except for-

     "She can go fuck herself if she's mad at you."

     Eddie turned to him with wide brown eyes. "Rich-"

     "I mean it. She's put you through enough shit before this."

     The woman across from them sent him a quick, questioning look, and Richie could tell she was tucking that comment away to bring up later. But he was sure nothing would come out of it. This was Derry, after all.

     "My hero." The words had surely meant to be sarcastic, but they had come out sounding a bit more genuine than Eddie had clearly anticipated. He turned scarlet and stared at the floor.

     Richie grinned lopsidedly, his hyperactive mouth coming back in an instant. "I knew it, Eds! I'm your Prince Charming. So, Princess Asscrack-"

     "Shut up."

     Richie couldn't help but notice how adorable Eddie was with his nose scrunched up in annoyance and embarrassment, his face burning red. His insides twisted, but not necessarily in an unpleasant way. He laughed softly, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

A/N: Another short one. The last two will be pretty long, though.