"You should ask for someone's," Eddie told him. "Jesus, you get people to write jokes for you...which aren't remotely funny by the way...but you never thought to have someone dress you like a goddamn adult? What's with that?" But honestly, he was mostly just irritated by how good Richie looked in his dumb overshirts. Really, how fucking dare he. Eddie felt like the only member of their group who hadn't somehow managed to grow up stupidly attractive. It was so unfair.
"Right," Eddie said. "Your teenager you adopted on impulse. How did that happen anyway? You never actually said. You were just sort of like...by the way, I have a kid now. Surprise."
And there was probably more that he could say on that ridiculous subject, but then Richie's hand was on his chest and that was a thing that was happening, and Eddie was maybe having an aneurysm, but probably not. Jesus, he was a disaster. What the fuck. It was honestly embarrassing that his brain entirely stopped working just because Richie was touching him. It was too stupid to even deal with.
"Un...yeah," he managed, finally. "Yeah. There's a scar there. It's not...it's kind of disgusting. You probably don't want to see it." He still didn't really want to look at it himself. It was big and ugly and awful, and he was so uncomfortable with it. He already hadn't been all that comfortable with how he looked, and this just made it worse.