[ Richie thought he knew what pain was. Rejection and loneliness, the pain of hiding who he really was and playing the "trashmouth" he was always so good at being. Getting what attention he could. It was all various levels of pain, some handled better than others with age. Derry, of course, brought all of these memories and then some back to the surface. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol to deal with any of it.
Especially when that damn red thread came back. As bright and vibrant as ever. It had been like twisting the knife in once again after he had managed to sort of patch that wound. Stan's loss was like another knife had been added to the mix and he just wanted to run away from all of it.
But then Eddie acknowledged the red thread between them, bravely taking that step Richie had been too chickenshit to even all these years later.
They decided to stay. Finish it so they could have some kind of life together afterward instead of forgetting the other again.
And then Richie discovered a pain that he never knew was possible. He finally found his soulmate only for him to be stabbed in front of him, tasting Eddie's blood after it sprayed onto his face. Pain that rain through his own blood, into his limbs and bones once the shock wore off. The red thread seemed to keep fading as they moved Eddie, Rich begging him the whole time to hold on. He couldn't leave them after all this.
He couldn't just leave him.
He barely remembers arriving at the hospital. Just his legs giving out and not able to get off of the floor as Bill and Mike tried to explain what happened. Bev and Ben kept trying to keep him from passing out right there. He remembers keeping his eyes on the red thread as it stretched out, Eddie being wheeled into the OR. He watched it grow faint and then come back through the blood and muck on his broken glasses, his chest throbbing with his heart stuttering and feeling like every breath was too hard to manage.
He doesn't remember being given the sedative. Just that when he woke up, the fear had returned in full force until he was told Eddie was alive. He was in ICU but it was possible he would make a recovery. Weeks passed and he was finally in a room of his own, Richie spending more time there than Eddie's wife. No one had called her. She came on her own and sounded too much like the other's mom, threatening them with lawsuits. Richie clenched his jaw shut and refused to look at her. For once in his life, he kept his mouth shut.
All that mattered was Eds waking up again. If he could just be given that, he'd... let the other shit go. It was a familiar ache that he had to swallow down, once again willing to let that love go if it was easier for the other man. He couldn't just come back and wreck his whole life because they suddenly remembered they were friends. And then some.
The other Losers were out getting lunch to bring back, Bev outside getting a smoke and Eddie's wife - he didn't even bother remembering her name, as petty as it was (and he knew it was) - was back at some hotel. He was sitting on the toilet lid in the bathroom, hands rubbing up and down his face, the exhaustion of so many nights of sleeping in a chair catching up with him more and more. He needed to keep taking these private moments for himself, trying not to break down crying again.
He feels the tug, however, weak, shoulders tensing up as he moves his hands to look at it. He looks at the door and puts his glasses back on before moving back out into the main room. Was he-- ]
Holy shit.
[ He was awake. Fuck. Don't throw up, Tozier. Or cry. But he could already feel the pressure behind his eyes. ]
no subject
Especially when that damn red thread came back. As bright and vibrant as ever. It had been like twisting the knife in once again after he had managed to sort of patch that wound. Stan's loss was like another knife had been added to the mix and he just wanted to run away from all of it.
But then Eddie acknowledged the red thread between them, bravely taking that step Richie had been too chickenshit to even all these years later.
They decided to stay. Finish it so they could have some kind of life together afterward instead of forgetting the other again.
And then Richie discovered a pain that he never knew was possible. He finally found his soulmate only for him to be stabbed in front of him, tasting Eddie's blood after it sprayed onto his face. Pain that rain through his own blood, into his limbs and bones once the shock wore off. The red thread seemed to keep fading as they moved Eddie, Rich begging him the whole time to hold on. He couldn't leave them after all this.
He couldn't just leave him.
He barely remembers arriving at the hospital. Just his legs giving out and not able to get off of the floor as Bill and Mike tried to explain what happened. Bev and Ben kept trying to keep him from passing out right there. He remembers keeping his eyes on the red thread as it stretched out, Eddie being wheeled into the OR. He watched it grow faint and then come back through the blood and muck on his broken glasses, his chest throbbing with his heart stuttering and feeling like every breath was too hard to manage.
He doesn't remember being given the sedative. Just that when he woke up, the fear had returned in full force until he was told Eddie was alive. He was in ICU but it was possible he would make a recovery. Weeks passed and he was finally in a room of his own, Richie spending more time there than Eddie's wife. No one had called her. She came on her own and sounded too much like the other's mom, threatening them with lawsuits. Richie clenched his jaw shut and refused to look at her. For once in his life, he kept his mouth shut.
All that mattered was Eds waking up again. If he could just be given that, he'd... let the other shit go. It was a familiar ache that he had to swallow down, once again willing to let that love go if it was easier for the other man. He couldn't just come back and wreck his whole life because they suddenly remembered they were friends. And then some.
The other Losers were out getting lunch to bring back, Bev outside getting a smoke and Eddie's wife - he didn't even bother remembering her name, as petty as it was (and he knew it was) - was back at some hotel. He was sitting on the toilet lid in the bathroom, hands rubbing up and down his face, the exhaustion of so many nights of sleeping in a chair catching up with him more and more. He needed to keep taking these private moments for himself, trying not to break down crying again.
He feels the tug, however, weak, shoulders tensing up as he moves his hands to look at it. He looks at the door and puts his glasses back on before moving back out into the main room. Was he-- ]
Holy shit.
[ He was awake. Fuck. Don't throw up, Tozier. Or cry. But he could already feel the pressure behind his eyes. ]