Look What I Found!

Ch. 14

A week has passed since the Losers left, meaning two weeks have passed since Mike moved in with Richie. And boy, not a dull day or night went by. But tonight was different. Richie was on edge as he sat in the living room, watching tv, a drink in his hand. Richie knew he had nothing to worry about. All of the windows and doors were locked. He made sure the kid ate before bed, and now Mike was sleeping peacefully upstairs. Or so he thought.

A scream jerked him upright, knocking his drink all over him, but he didn't really care at the moment because the screams kept coming. He jumps up and races up the stairs, two steps at a time, and down the hall toward Mike's room. Bursting through the door, he saw Mike's sheets and blankets thrown to the edge of the bed. His pillows were scattered about the room, almost like he threw them there.

He runs toward him and grabs his flailing arms to avoid getting hit. What he didn't anticipate was getting kicked in the head. He fell to the ground, too stunned to move as Mike continued flailing about.

"Get off! Get off of me!" Mike screamed, "Will! Will! Where are you?! El!"

Richie had no idea what to do. This was no nightmare. This was a night terror.

"Please! Please! Take me, not them. Please!" Richie jumps off the ground and slowly approaches him, noting his sweat-covered clothes and sheets. His hands were balled into fists, swinging like he was hitting something. Richie's had plenty of night terrors and hardly ever remembers them, but he had a sneaking suspicion of what they were about.

"No. No. No! NO! Aaahh!" His screams broke into a sob as he let out a heart-wrenching scream. "Don't take him! Please don't take them from me again! Please!"

"Jesus," Richie mumbled to himself. He could only think to do one thing in this situation, and it was what his mom used to do whenever he had a nightmare about It.

He slowly crawls into the bed behind him, keeping Mike's swinging arms and feet from hitting him. The kid was putting up a fight, and a good one at that. He wrapped his arms around the kid's arms as he thrashed and screamed while wrapping his legs around his legs. Mike was restricted, and it seemed to be throwing him into a panic attack which was Richie's specialty.

He let go of Mike's legs, who went back to kicking and proceeded to run his fingers through Mike's hair gently. He kept bucking back and forth, kicking and thrashing, trying to escape the touches.

"No. No, please." He started to mumble. The thrashing slowed as his unconscious state realized he wasn't being hurt, but he kept at it.

"Shh... Shh, Mikey. You're ok. You're safe now. Whatever you're fighting or running from. It's gone now, kid. You're ok. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Mike whimpered, "Will... El..."

"Or them. They are both probably back home, safe and sound. I promise."

Mike's body slowly fell limp, but he was still hyperventilating, his eyes darting back and forth behind his lids. Richie slowly started to rock them both back and forth, slowly humming a tune under his breath, hoping it would calm him down.

Minutes later, Mike's eyes slowly fluttered open before he bolted upright, eyes darting around the room as his breathing picked up again.

"What-where am-I don't-." He whimpered as he clutched his head.

The sudden jerk startled Richie awake, who was nodding off from behind him. He let out a noise as Mike whipped around towards him.

He squinted at him in distrust. "What-what are you doing in my room?" Mike was hyperventilating so severely that he could barely get a word out.

"You had a night terror. I came to make sure you were ok."

"By crawling into my bed?" He was trying to turn the situation around. He placed his hand over his chest and turned back around when Richie didn't answer.

Richie threw both legs over the bed as he scooted closer toward Mike. He places his hand on his shoulder, having the boy jerk from him. He put his hands up defensively as Mike turned and glared at him.

His glare softened as he slowly leaned towards Richie, placing his head on his shoulder. "I-I-" He sniffled, trying to take a deep breath, but it wasn't working. He was still hyperventilating. "I can't b-b-breathe."

Richie pulled him closer, rubbing his back as he sobbed, trying to catch his breath.

"I-I really can't-can't breathe, R-R-Richie."

He looked down at him, saw the panic in Mike's eyes, and realized that this approach wasn't working.

"Hey," he whispered so as not to spook him. Mike looked toward him, "I'm going to go get something from my room, ok?"

Mike's eyes filled with fear as Richie tried to reassure him that he'd be back. He finally nodded, and Richie hurriedly left for his room.

He searched his room for his jacket when he remembered that he had to wash it the other day. He cursed as he remembered that he didn't take anything out of his pockets as he was slightly intoxicated. He hurriedly went to his closet and, reaching into the back, pulled out a worn-down suitcase, the name 'Eddie' glaring up at him.

He breathed through his nose as he unzipped it, opened it, then froze at the sight of all the clothes still in it. Eddie's clothes. He hurries up and snaps out of it as he starts digging around, knowing Eddie must have had a spare in here that's never been used.

A wet cough had him turning towards the door, and there stood Mike, shaking on his legs as he had his blanket wrapped around him. He was still breathing hard and looked like he was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen getting to his lungs. Richie's hand wrapped around a plastic object, and pulling it out, he saw Eddie's inhaler clutched in his hand.

"Yes," he breathed out, hurrying towards Mike. He gently grabbed Mike's elbow, leading him toward the bed. He sat him down as he grabbed the suitcase, pushing it under the bed and out of sight.

Sitting beside him, he shook the inhaler, popping the cap off and placing it toward Mike's lips, who didn't hesitate to open his mouth.

"I promise," Richie started, "It's never been used. Now, I'm going to count to three, and on three, you inhale, ok?"

Mike nodded, and Richie slowly counted. Once he got to three, he squeezed the button, and Mike took a deep breath. He pulled away, sputtering and coughing, his breaths worsening, before placing his lips on the inhaler again. Richie counted and squeezed again as Mike took another deep breath. He instantly released it but was still having trouble breathing.

He whimpered as he looked at Richie, the pain in his eyes breaking his heart. "We're going to do this one more time, Mike. And this time, take a deep breath, hold it for 5 seconds, then release. Ok?"

Mike nodded, and Richie proceeded to help him through his panic attack. Mike held his breath for 5 seconds, Richie telling him to release it slowly. He did so before placing his lips back, and Richie squeezed one more time. Mike held his breath, then slowly released. He took a few puffs on his own, stuttering on a few, but he no longer needed the inhaler to help him.

He crashed onto Richie's shoulder, who was shocked by the sudden weight, but he couldn't really blame him after all of that. Richie pulls Mike's hand forward and places the inhaler in his hand.

"You keep this, ok? I don't need it, and it wasn't really mine, to begin with."

"Eddie's?" Mike whispered, taking a peek up at Richie through heavy eyes.

"Yea," Richie breathed out, "it belonged to Eddie."

Mike dropped his head back down, bringing the inhaler close to his chest, which warmed Richie's heart, seeing him already take care of something that belonged to Eddie.

A snore brought him out of his thoughts, and he glanced to see Mike drooling on his shirt. Richie snorted, which nearly jolted Mike awake. He whispered an apology as he maneuvered Mike around so he was lying on the bed. He threw Mike's blanket over top of him and slowly made his way out of the room.

"I guess I'm sleeping on the couch tonight," he mumbled to himself as he left the door slightly ajar in case another incident like this happened.