Random OneShots

Richie, the patient! Pt.2

By: ReddieFangirl on Ao3

Reddie

~~~~

"Can you believe it, Rich? We have a full audience!" An excited Steve told him as they walked backstage. Richie did his best to keep up. Normally, he was faster than Steve, considering the height difference.

Right from the moment, he showed up, there was no time to sit down which was what Richie needed to do. Before the show began they had to check mics, and do countless other tasks in preparation before the audience arrived.

So far, he met Jack, one of the comedians that he was facing off, but there was no sign of Ronnie yet. To what Richie could decipher, he thought people were trying to figure out if she was in the building. Oh, he was going to figure out a way to roast her. That was if he could get his jumbled mind together.

"Rich, did you hear what I said?" Steve caught his attention. Just like that morning, Richie felt too heavy to even stand, wanting to sit. Smacking his lips together, a foul taste impacted his mouth. There was so much going on backstage that he couldn't comprehend it all.

"Huh, what?" Richie asked, trying to wake up. His body ached whenever he moved. Especially his back. Due to that hard fall he took after... just thinking about that evil clown made his stomach turn.

"Rich, I'm trying to talk to you about important information, here! Are you all alright? Because you look not alright," Steve said to him, worriedly. He noticed how pale he looked. From the very start when Richie first became a comedian, he witnessed a couple of times where the comedian had stage fright.

Breathing in a good breath of air, Richie straightened his back more so he wasn't slouching. One of the stage managers came over to tell them they had about ten minutes until showtime.

"I'm great," he answered, smiling through the pain.

Getting backstage, Richie walked to his microphone which was in the middle of the three. He could hear the awaiting audience behind the curtain. Grasping his stomach, Richie cringed, bending over a bit. He could hardly hold the mic. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Everything okay, Richie?" Jack asked, putting a hand on his back. They only just met an hour ago. Richie noticed that Ronnie wasn't here. Good, maybe she backed out. Battling against just Jack would be a lot easier.

Richie was so out of it that he wasn't aware that the curtain opened revealing hundreds and hundreds of people applauding and cheering. That loud noise crushed Richie's eardrums. Feeling sweat, Richie could only guess that it was because of all the stage lights. Those lights were hot enough to melt a blanket of snow.

Blinking his eyes to focus, Richie couldn't look at the audience without feeling his eyes swirl.

"How are you doin' this afternoon, guys?" Jack presented, waving to the audience.

Come on, Tozier, get a grip. "We-We have a great show." Thankfully he was on a mic. He couldn't speak any louder than his indoor voice which was unlike him.

"That's right!" Came a woman's voice. All hope drained out of Richie. Nobody told him that Ronnie was making her own grand entrance through the auditorium. Why didn't he think of that?

Ronnie was dressed for the performance that was for sure. Wearing hippie-like pants and a crop top, her shoes were purple sketchers. She had the time to style her hair into a mohawk. Wow, were those her hoop earrings, or were her ears bigger than the normal human ear?

Coming right up on the stage, she stared down Richie like a hawk, immediately upstaging him. "I would have been here on time but Tozier's batmobile is so big that I had to get a tow truck!"

Grimacing, Richie stepped in. Come to think of it, now he couldn't even remember his own script. Oh well, here it goes. "Says the woman with oversized toes. I guess toes with undone nail polish make great trucks! Are those earrings supposed to be a stop sign?"

The crowd got a big kick out of that one. Maybe this was going to go smoothly.

Or so Richie thought. Most of the show was Jack and Ronnie taking cracks and making jokes. Richie made a few jokes, but he stopped in mid-sentence, feeling too sick to speak. He was only embarrassing himself. Did any of the audience notice that he was being strangely quiet?

Someone had to be filming like they always did. Most of his performances went on Youtube. That one performance where he completely lost his whole train of thought, the audience was quick to come back at him, throwing out insults. Luckily, he saved himself, cracking a joke, and going on with the show.

"Do you know how some couples try to pick a channel on TV?" Ronnie started. "Men take forEVER!"

"Is that so?" Jack asked, egging her on. Richie had no energy to speak trying to look away from the bright lights. His stomach...

"What do you say, Trashmouth? Do women take longer to pick a channel?" she battled against the man.

Suck it up, Tozier. "You want to know what I think?"

"Everybody wants to know what you think!" she indicated to the large crowd.

Oh, God, his stomach was on fire. Ignore it, it's nothing! "I say..."

The audience howled. Not because of Richie's attempt to roast his enemy. He threw up all over the stage.

Richie slowly stood back up, panic consuming him. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Everybody was in an uproar, disgusted by what they just witnessed, some trying to run out of the auditorium. Feeling his heart pounding, his throat closing up, Richie couldn't think straight. What did he just do?

"I-I'm sorry..." Richie quivered into the microphone at an attempt to make this situation less embarrassing. What if they thought that this was all part of his routine.

The curtain closed. Immediately, Richie was lead away by a stagehand, and Jack at his side. Steve joined them, asking him questions he couldn't understand. As he was leaving, he heard Ronnie complaining that he ruined her outfit. And then a voice came over the loudspeaker. Richie was so embarrassed and overwhelmed about everything that he couldn't make out the words.

Finally, he was back in his dressing room. Peace. Except, Richie's stomach wasn't peaceful. He ran to the trash can, crunching down on his hands and knees just in time.

"Jesus, Rich, what's that matter? Are you okay?" Steve asked, hovering from the scene. A stagehand came over to him and offered Richie a tissue to clean his mouth. He barely had the energy to walk over to the couch. When he made it, Richie curled up, groaning. It wasn't the comfiest of couches, but at least it was something.

"... I'm sick..." Richie uttered, tears falling from his eyes as he grasped his ailing stomach. His throat hurt. Anytime he opened his eyes, everything spun in disorientating shapes. Everything hurt, aching.

"It wasn't stage fright or anything, was it? Rich, do you think you can go back on?" Steve asked him pulling up a chair.

The thought of even going back out on that stage made his stomach lurch. Who wanted to see him anyway? "No."

"Do you want us to call anyone? You should go home," the stagehand suggested. Steve shook his head at the suggestion, but he agreed that it was for the better.

Richie wanted Eddie. He wanted his boyfriend to come to his rescue so he could save him from this nightmare. But, knowing how Eddie feared germs, he wasn't going to be happy about this. Besides, he was running around doing a million different things at once. If he put this over his shoulders, Eddie was sure to pop out of his skin.

Trying to get comfortable on the couch, Richie's eyes were so heavy. "Let me rest for a bit?"

"Are you sure? I can get the limp to send you home," Steve suggested.

Richie couldn't fight sleep.