The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the small patch of grass where the Losers had gathered. Laughter echoed through the air as Bill told some absurd story, but your eyes kept drifting over to Eddie, who was sitting cross-legged on the grass, adjusting the strap of his shorts. His knee-high socks looked ridiculous, but it was Eddie—so it was endearing in its own way. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, his brow furrowed as he fussed with his inhaler.

“Eddie, you’re looking like you’re about to have a meltdown,”

Stan joked from the other side of the circle, clearly enjoying the chance to tease him.

“What’s up? Did a bug land on you?”

Eddie shot him a glare, his lips curling into a smirk despite himself.

“If a bug touches me, I’ll get contaminated, Stan. I’m not taking any chances.”

You chuckled, still watching him. He always got so worked up over things most people wouldn’t even think twice about, but that’s what made Eddie, well, Eddie.

“You know,”

you said, leaning in just a little,

“you really don’t have to worry so much. No one’s gonna get you sick just by sitting here.”

Eddie glanced at you, his cheeks slightly flushed from the sun.

"Easier said than done,"

he muttered, adjusting the hem of his shirt nervously. He shot a quick look at you, and you could’ve sworn he caught you staring, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Don’t listen to her, Eddie,”

Richie piped up, squinting through his glasses that make his eyes way bigger.

“You’re already a walking disaster, so we might as well add a bug to the list of things you’re terrified of. Come on, let loose!”

Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically.

“I’m not the one who almost swallowed a wasp last summer, Richie. At least I’m cautious.”

You could feel yourself smiling at the way Eddie’s voice wavered slightly.