Notes: aaand we're coming in at a record FIVE references folks see if u can spot em
Richie always hated waiting. He can't sit still for more than a few seconds. It helps to pace around; so here he is, on hour five of pacing around the hospital waiting room.
"Sit down, Rich." Bill urges. "You've got to be tired by now."
Richie shakes his head. He is very much tired, but he is not going to sit down.
The waiting room is stark-white and very plain. Richie's got every detail memorized by now, as there aren't many to note; there's a still-life painting of a flower vase on the wall opposite him, a large window on the wall to his left, a set of double-doors to his right, white chairs sitting in rows throughout the room. The chairs are hard plastic and very uncomfortable. No wonder Richie doesn't want to sit.
The seconds tick by like minutes, the minutes like hours. The Losers are a sharp contrast to the room, bloody and grimy and worn-down, and they attract a lot of strange looks, not that any of them care.
"Richie," Beverly sighs, a while later. She stands up, walking over to him and taking his arm. "Please sit down. You're freaking me out."
She begins to lead him to an empty chair. For a second, he resists, but then he tiredly complies, sitting down in the uncomfortable seat. Richie puts his head in his hands, sighing heavily.
The minutes creep by. Until, finally, finally, a nurse steps out of the doors.
"Is anyone here for Edward Kaspbrak-Tozier?" She announces, and all six of the Losers stand in unison.
"Is he okay?" Richie asks, and the rest of the group chimes in with their shared curiosity.
The nurse gives them a strange look, like the ones they've been receiving for the past seven hours, before replying. "He's still in very serious condition, but he is stable."
The Losers collectively sigh in relief.
"Can we see him?" Bill asks. Again, the group all chime in with their agreement.
"He can have visitors, yes, but unfortunately we have to limit it to family." The nurse tells them.
Richie steps forward anxiously. "I'm family." He says. Once more, the Losers nod and add their agreement. At this point, it appears as if they're some kind of hivemind.
The nurse looks Richie up and down, raising her eyebrows doubtfully. "You're family?" She asks, and the judgment is clear in her voice. "How are you related?" Her tone makes Richie's blood boil.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Richie huffs. He holds up his left hand, wedding band clear. "This band cost $700. My last name is literally part of his last name. We fuck almost every day." He says. The nurse stares in shock. "I fucking hate this homophobic ass town, let me see my husband so we can ditch this shithole."
Beverly begins clapping quietly, grinning wide. Stan pushes her hands down, but he's smiling a little, too.
The nurse blinks. "Right this way." She pushes the door open, clearly still unhappy.
Richie is led down a series of long, clean hallways, into the ICU section of the building. Finally, they arrive at room 237, and Richie is met by a doctor.
"Hello, I'm Doctor Baynes." The man extends a hand as the nurse from before leaves.
Richie shakes it. "Richie." He looks over Dr. Baynes' shoulder. "Is he in there?"
"Yes, he is." Dr. Baynes replies. "He's asleep right now, he may not wake up while you're there."
"I don't plan on leaving." Richie says.
The doctor nods. "Be cautious with him, he is stable, but could very easily slip back into critical condition." He opens the door to the room, and Richie walks in without hesitation.
And there's Eddie, lying in a hospital bed. He's hooked up to about a million different machines, and his torso is heavily bandaged. He's still abnormally pale, but less so than he had been. There's a chair by his bed, and Richie sits down in it. He doesn't mind the uncomfortable plastic anymore as he takes Eddie's hand in his own. It's warm; Richie is so glad that it's still warm. The doctor is going on about spinal chords and paralysis and sparing vital organs, but Richie doesn't really hear him; he's to busy counting his blessings.
"I doubt he'll wake up anytime soon." Dr. Baynes sighs. "Poor thing's pretty drugged up at the moment."
Richie nods, but then he feels Eddie's hand twitch, and Eddie starts to stir. Richie looks down at him in surprise, leaning in closer, as Eddie opens his eyes.
"Eddie?" Richie cups Eddie's cheek, voice gentle. "Hey, Eds."
Eddie blinks, groaning a little. "Rich?"
"I'll leave you two alone." Dr. Baynes says before stepping out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
"You're awake." Richie smiles wide.
"I am?" Eddie blinks some more, and Richie laughs.
"God, I'm so glad you're okay." He breathes. "Even if you are, like, super heavily drugged right now."
"I'm not super heavily drugged, I'm fine." Eddie protests, slurring his words. He reaches up towards Richie weakly. "Kiss?"
Richie smiles wider, starting to lean down to give Eddie the kiss in question, but Eddie stops him.
"No, no, hold on, I'm coming to you." Eddie takes his hand out of Richie's and tries to push himself up into a sitting position.
"Eddie, I really think you should just rest." Richie moves to block him. Eddie whines in protest, but relents anyway.
"Fine, whatever. Maybe I will." Eddie mumbles.
And then, within seconds, he's asleep again.
Richie sleeps on a cot next to him that night, after catching the rest of the group up on the situation, all of whom went back to stay at the inn. The next day, it's determined that the rest of the group is allowed to visit, and, obviously, they do. Eddie, still on a great deal of drugs, cries happy tears.
Of course, there are lots of questions buzzing around about how this happened. The doctors say this is probably the worst case they've ever had. A huge hole through the center of someone's body doesn't just happen.
The Losers tell the police that Eddie had fallen from a ledge into a sharp rock while they'd been exploring a cave. The cops don't really seem to buy it, but what else could they say? A giant, evil spider from outer space phased through the ground of a secret sewer cave to stab him? No fucking way.
Eddie makes a slow but steady recovery over the next week, slowly phasing off of the drugs until he's back in his right mind. Richie only leaves to shower and grab things from the inn. After exchanging contact information, the rest of their friends (sans Mike) end up leaving Derry to go back to their houses- although, Beverly is actually going to her best friend, Kay's, house instead.
Ten days after he was stabbed, Eddie is fit to fly back home.
"He'll be fine on the plane, right?" Richie asks. "He won't, like, explode or anything?"
Eddie smacks him on the arm from his seat in a hospital wheelchair. "I'm not gonna fucking explode, Richie."
"No, he won't explode." Dr. Baynes smiles. "He should be just fine. His condition is still fairly delicate, so I'd recommend driving him to the hospital right after you land. And be cautious; New York isn't a great city for someone recovering from a serious stab wound."
"God, I can't wait until I can just go back home." Eddie sighs, resting his chin in his hand. "And I hate not walking. This wheelchair is so slow."
"Should've thought about that before you fell onto a rock." Richie teases, arm resting on one of the handles of the wheelchair.
"Mhm." Eddie hums, heavy with sarcasm.
"Well, it shouldn't be too much longer until you can live at home again. And with a good physical therapist, you might be out of that wheelchair in a few months." Dr. Baynes says. "Of course, n-"
"Nothing's confirmed, I know." Eddie finishes for him, nodding. "I'm just glad to be alive still."
"You could do Disney World in, like, an hour and a half in that chair." Richie points out.
"True." Eddie agrees, smiling.
And so, finally, the two head outside the hospital- Eddie for the first time in over a week- and to the airport.
~~~~~
"Wheelchairs are so fucking tedious. I mean, there's benefits, but, fuck. My arms are so tired."
"That's why I'm here to push you." Richie smiled, unlocking and opening the door to their apartment. It's around a couple of weeks later, and Eddie can finally live at home again.
"Plus I have to sleep in a hospital bed. Like, we have a hospital bed in our house." Eddie huffs as they enter the room, Richie locking the door behind them. His tone is frustrated, but it's artificial; it's obvious that he's actually just very happy to be home.
"Mhm." Richie hums, leaning down to give Eddie a kiss. He starts to stand back up, but Eddie stops him, cupping his cheek.
"We won't be able to fuck for a while." Eddie says, smiling.
Richie smiles back, laughing lightly. "See, there's something I'm upset about." He gives Eddie another kiss before standing and walking to the kitchen. "Kidding," He looks at Eddie over his shoulder. "I'm just glad you're here."
Eddie hums happily. He looks around the room at all the relics of their time together; each decoration and piece of furniture has a story behind it, and he missed being surrounded by story so much.
"Yeah," He says. "I am, too."