𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 / 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ᴠᴇɪɴᴛɪᴅÓꜱ

The next morning, Richie is immediately on hangover duty.

Eddie must have been worse off than he thought. He throws up several times, curls up in a ball on the bed, doesn't want to talk to anyone, and at one point begs Richie to please close the blinds, because the fucking brightness of the sky is going to crack his skull open. Richie feels pretty bad about it- he should have made a better effort to stop him from drinking. But he can't deny that listening to Eddie drunkenly ramble was pretty hilarious, no matter how stressed he was about the whole thing.

In the afternoon, when Eddie is up and feeling better, and they're both working on arranging his new bedroom, Richie tells him about Josh Dickwad, and Eddie doesn't look very impressed with himself.

"I spit on him?" He asks doubtfully. "What did he do?"

Richie checked in with Bev earlier, and he was pretty pissed to find his assumption was right. "He called Bev a slut."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he takes a breath, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Did I hit him? Did anyone hit him?"

"You tried."

"Fucking asshole," Eddie says heatedly, and Richie can tell that now Eddie's regretting not doing more, just like he was this morning. "I don't like fighting."

"I know."

"But he needs his ass kicked."

"Definitely."

Eddie looks at him suddenly, as though he's just thought of something important. "Mike and Stan are okay, right? Did they hear him?"

Richie smirks, deciding to turn the conversation in another direction; he doesn't want Eddie to be upset about something that can't be helped. "Pretty sure they're both still surprised by you."

"Why, because I spit at Josh Dickwad?"

"No, no," Richie says, and he moves across the room, to where Eddie is standing next to his dresser, placing neatly folded clothes into the drawers. "Apparently you think Stan is pretty, and Mike is handsome."

Eddie's cheeks start to darken. "What... I didn't say that."

"You did."

"Come on, really?"

"I mean, if you want to be with Mike, you're going to have to take that up with Bev," Richie says, laughing at the look of horror on Eddie's face. "But Stan's available, as far as I know."

"Oh my GOD."

"It's okay, we're all a little attracted to Mike."

"Richie, fucking stop," Eddie says, hiding his face in his palms. "God, I can't believe I said that stuff."

"And Stan is pretty, too. I get it."

"I'm never drinking again!"

"I'm not even sure why you did, honestly."

Eddie looks up at him, his blush fading slowly, his shoulders dropping just a bit, and Richie regrets voicing the thought. "I don't know..."

"I'm sorry," Richie says, waving his hand dismissively. He's sure it's because of everything that's happened, and it's not his place to say anything about it. "I just, I never expected you to try it."

Looking down, Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, and he looks suddenly so ashamed. "I just wanted to forget, I guess. About everything."

Sometimes Richie hates it when he's right; it hurts him deeply to hear Eddie admit it. "Eds..."