Whumptober 2020|| Reddie

30. Caretaker

A/N: TWO DAYS LATE NOOOO STREAK LOST-
     In my defense though, it was Halloween and I was busy.

AND.

Two left.

We're in the endgame now.

     "It's pretty bad, huh?" Eddie said quietly, staring down at the socket where his arm had been.

     Richie's fingers brushed gently against his shoulder as he rewrapped the bandages. "Guess you could say I'm your . . . right hand man now, Eds."

     The joke fell flat, but Eddie let out a small laugh. "You're an idiot."

     "But a handsome one, right?"

     Eddie's face flushed inexplicably. "Can't argue with that, I guess." They fell silent for a moment, and then Eddie said abruptly, "When I get back to New York, I . . . I think I'm going to divorce Myra."

     Richie fought to keep his voice neutral. "And then what?"

     Eddie shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know."

     After their final confrontation with It, Richie had refused to leave Eddie's hospital bed. He'd been unconscious for much of the first day, sending Richie into thinly veiled panic, which had been an inch from boiling over.

     "He'll be fine," the doctor had said, Bev said, Bill said, Mike said, but the idea of leaving even for a second seemed unthinkable. What if Eddie woke up to find himself alone? What if he didn't wake up, what if something else happened, what if, what if, what if, Richie's hyperactive brain had screamed.

     And then he had waken up, and it was okay.

     But:

     But Richie still felt too insecure and unsure to tell Eddie how he really felt.

     (then he'll know your secret your dirty little secret your dirty!!! little!!! secret!!!)

     But he wasn't sure he could navigate this new, unfamiliar sea of territory. Maybe Stan could've helped him, or at least clear his muddled thoughts, but Stan wasn't here, he was gone, and Eddie had almost gone too.

     But Eddie would be leaving for New York in a few days, and he'd be leaving for LA, and that would be the end of it. Eddie was married, after all.

     But he was sure Eddie didn't feel the same way. And if by some miracle he worked up the courage to tell him, nothing would ever be the same between them, for better or for worse. And that was scary. Change was scary.

     The last 2 weeks of his life had been a rollercoaster of change for Richie Tozier, and he needed a break.

     Not that life gives a shit about what you want, anyway.

     Eddie yawned, breaking his train of thought. "I should get some sleep, Rich."

     Richie stood up, nodding quickly. He felt jumpy, hyperactive, unable to sit still- but at the same time he was tired, he was so tired. "Yeah. Right. Uh. Right." He led Eddie to the bedroom, ignoring the latter's protests that he could walk perfectly well. He had insisted that Eddie take the bed, he could sleep on the pullout couch.

     Richie pulled off his glasses and collapsed on the couch. He realized dimly that no, in fact, he wasn't tired at all. He had no hope of falling asleep. He wanted to get up, to do something, but nothing seemed appealing- he was caught in a vicious cycle.

     He stood up abruptly, unable to stand the still and the quiet. What he really wanted to do, Richie realized, was see Eddie. God, he was pathetic. It had been what, half an hour since they'd gone to bed? He felt like a teenager again, pining over a crush (and, if he was being honest, it had always been the same crush).

     The idea of Eddie leaving in just a few days terrified him. What if they forgot again? Bill had said that the forgetting, at least, was over. But what if it wasn't?

     Those years of forgetting had been hell. Okay, maybe not in the moment, but looking back on them, looking at a time where he didn't remember the Losers, didn't remember Eddie fucking Kaspbrak . . .

     And he knew in those years that something was wrong. That something was missing. He'd known. There was an Eddie-shaped hole in his chest, he just hadn't truly felt its implications until he picked up the phone and heard the voice of Mike Hanlon, dragging him like a fishhook back to Derry, to Eddie, to the memories and feelings he thought he was free of.

     Richie was on his feet and standing at Eddie's door before his brain realized what he was doing. Impulsivity was his area of expertise and for once, maybe that wasn't so bad.

     "Eds," Richie breathed.

     He's sleeping, asshat, you just woke him up and he's going to tell you to leave the fucking room, dipshit, and let him sleep.

     But Eddie looked up, as though he hadn't really been sleeping either. "Oh- hi, Richie."

     Was he blushing? It was too dark to really tell, but Richie thought so. Then again, Richie was painfully aware of his own face being a bright red.

     "Um, I was just-" Just what? Richie hovered in the doorway awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say. "I-" He took a deep breath. Don't chicken out. Not again. "I know it's late, I was gonna go to sleep, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it."

     He was rambling now and there was no way to stop it. Eddie was moving slowly towards him, looking up with those chocolate eyes.

     For god's sake, just shut the fuck up, idiot!

     "And it's not fair to you for me to just keep this bottled up, and it's what It used against me, and- and you have a right to know. So, I'm just going to say it now-" God, he was abysmal at this.

     "Eds . . . I love you." No turning back now. "I have since we were kids, and-"

     Eddie leaned up and gently pressed his lips against Richie's. The kiss was short but sweet and took Richie completely by surprise. He stood, rooted to the spot, as Eddie took a shaky breath.

     Eddie kissed me. EDDIE KASPBRAK kissed me. Holy fuck.

     This time, Richie leaned in. Careful to avoid Eddie's stump of an arm, his lips collided with Eddie's. They stood in the doorway, the moonlight filtering through the blinds and sending lines of faint light onto Eddie's face.

     Eventually, Richie pulled away gently, resting his forehead against Eddie's. They fell back onto the bed, wrapped securely in each others arms.

A/N: And then they either cuddled wholesomely or fucked. Or both. I'll let you decide.

I should hopefully be able to post the next one (the LAST one, holy shit) today. Hopefully.