A/N this one hurt me to write, because I know that...

A/N this one hurt me to write, because I know that there are people who actually feel this way in real life. I almost didn’t do it, but I told the anon I would and so I did. Please, PLEASE, don’t read this if it will trigger you or harm you in any way. I don’t ever want any of you to hurt like this.

Summary: reader struggles with her weight, and one day Richie is there to comfort her.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: anorexia, bulimia, slight mention of verbal and physical abuse, and cursing

Richie Tozier

You were hungry, you couldn’t lie. But you didn’t want to gain any weight, as you felt like you were too big already. Your mother made it known that you weren’t a good size, always mentioning it to you as you ate or did literally anything else.

As you began to eat less and less, and began to lose some weight, her comments began to dwindle only a bit. But then one day she caught you with a candy bar, and forced you to throw it up. So, as you watched your friends all dig into hamburgers and French fries, you couldn’t help but practically drool at the sight of the greasy food.

“Are you not hungry, Y/N?” Ben asked you. You looked up from your hands that were crossed in your lap, and sent him a small smile,“A little bit.”

Richie quickly cut his burger in half, handing the side that was uneaten to you,“Here, take half of my burger.” Your heart fluttered, but you quickly shook your head,“Oh, no Richie. I can’t. Thank you though.” He rolled his eyes, still holding the burger out to you as Eddie said,“Come on, Y/N/ . If you don’t eat, you could get sick. You haven’t eaten anything today.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly took the burger, kissing Richie on the cheek in thanks, before taking a small bite out of it. With red cheeks, he smiled lightly before shoving a few fries into his mouth. Your cheeks reddened a bit as well, and you caught eyes with a smirking Beverly. Your blush deepened, and you took another bite of the burger.

The eight of you all joked around, you piping in every so often but not much. The Losers’ didn’t expect any less, as you tended to be quite shy and quiet. Soon enough, the sky began to darken and you told your friends that you needed to head home.

Richie quickly jumped up after you, saying that he planned on walking you home as the two of you lived close by anyway. You agreed, and the two of you said your goodbyes to your friends and told them that you’d see them the next day. “How come you didn’t order anything?” Richie asked after a few minutes of silence, which was odd for him.

But he’d been thinking, and it may sound crazy, but he thought you’d been acting quite strange over the past few weeks. You shrugged,“Just wasn’t hungry, I guess.”

Richie didn’t believe that. He saw you eyeing their food, and he knew you had enough money to buy a burger or even just some French fries, as your parents went out of town for the weekend and left you with more money than you needed. He didn’t question it though, only nodded in response.

He didn’t know if any of the others had noticed the change in your behavior, but he did. He noticed how whenever they got food, you didn’t. He noticed that when they had picnics, all you’d eat was an apple or some other type of fruit when they’d have sandwiches and get ice cream afterwards. He noticed everything. Your tear stained cheeks when you snuck over to his house after a fight with your mother, although you’d made him promise not to ask what about. Your sad eyes and frown stained lips.

He couldn’t stand it. Richie missed your goofy smiles and how happy you were when you were with him and the other Losers, how you came out of your shell when you were with them. So, tonight he planned to see what you were hiding. He would stake out at your house all night if he had to, but he was going to figure out what was wrong.

After saying your goodbyes, you went inside of your house and straight to the restroom. Richie pretended to walk off, but saw you heading over that way through the large windows on your house. He ran over to where he knew the small window to your bathroom was, and heard you crying faintly.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you muttered, hands on the edges of the counter as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you tried your hardest to stop them.

“Why’re you so stupid? You’re not fat. All you had was half of a burger, it’s not going to kill you,” you said, speaking only to yourself. But then you thought of your mother, and a sob escaped your lips. “But she will. She won’t like it. You’re only supposed to eat healthy. Only healthy.”

With a shaky breath, you walked over to the toilet and leant down onto your knees. You forced a shaky finger into your mouth, a gag escaping your throat. You did it again, and again, and again, until the half of the burger came up and into the toilet. Richie, upon hearing your gags and coughs, was already running to the front door and letting himself in, running straight for your bathroom where you were leaning against your tub with your knees up to your chest.

You looked up with wide eyes as he burst through the door, seeing you there with teary eyes. “Richie, what’re you doing here?” You asked, voice raspy as you went to stand up. He stopped you by leaning down and taking you into his arms, shocking you.

“W-what’re you doing?”

He ignored your question, instead asking,“What did she do to you?”

“Who?” You responded, although you knew exactly what he was talking about. He pulled back, grabbing your cheeks with his hands,“Your mother, what did she do?” With those words, you crumbled. A sob escaped your lips, and Richie quickly pulled you back into him, allowing you to sob against his shoulder.

“S-she says I’m not skinny enough,” you cried.

Richie wanted to murder your mother.

He caressed your hair, placing a kiss on your forehead as you continued to cry and sob, letting out everything you’d held in for the last few weeks. “She s-says I’m a woman now, and t-that I need to look like one.”

“You’re perfect, Y/N. You’re so perfect, and so beautiful. Who cares about your weight? I don’t. The Losers’ don’t. None of us do, and neither should you. Don’t ever do that again, okay? Promise me,” Richie said, his voice cracking lightly at the end. Your sobbing began to dwindle, and you nodded your head against his shoulder,“I promise.”

You slowly sat straight, and Richie frowned even more (if that was possible). Your eyes were red and puffy, and tears coated your cheeks. He wiped them away with his fingers before standing, leaving you to look at him in curiosity. He looked through your cabinets before he found a soft rag, and he turned on the faucet, placing it underneath. After it became soaked with cold water, he turned the faucet off and wrung the excess water out.

Richie walked back over to you, kneeling onto the ground and gently wiping around your eyes. He wiped all of your tears off, and then moved to your mouth. You watched his face as he took care of you, his bottom lip tugged in between his teeth as he thought about how he could’ve helped you so much longer ago. Why didn’t he ask what’s wrong? Why did he ignore it?

He stood once again, walking off and coming back with a blanket and a glass of water, handing it to you. You took it, allowing him to wrap you in the blanket.

“Why’re you doing all of this?” You croaked after sipping the water. He looked at you in the most sincere way you’d ever seen him,“Because I love you, Y/N. I hate seeing you so sad as it is, and this- oh fuck. It makes me want to murder everyone whose ever hurt you.”

Setting the glass down, you leaned into him, gripping onto his shirt,“I love you too, Rich. Thank you.”

He was the last person you ever expected to comfort you, but you sure were glad he was.

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