Nyctophilia 🌪 Reddie

vii

When Richie came to, everything around him was blurry. He felt a hand on his forearm, rubbing it gently and he immediately tensed up, the things that he had seen washing over his mind like an ice cold bath. He felt the hand grip onto him tighter and he struggled to pull away, panicked, the only thing running through his mind being fear and confusion.

"Richie? Chee, calm down, it's just me," came a calm, angelic voice.

Richie wanted to keep fighting, but the voice sounded safe. He didn't want the person to stop talking. Richie let his hand fall limp, trying to blink and see who was talking to him.
A plasticky sound echoed through the air, and Richie felt something being handed to him.

His glasses. He carefully put them on, one of the lenses being broken, and allowed the room to come into focus. That's when he noticed that he was safe; Eddie was sitting next to him, no one was screaming.

They were safe.

"Rich?" Eddie asked quietly, hoping Richie had managed to calm down from whatever panicked state he had been in.

"I should get contacts," Richie said, pulling off his glasses and frowning at the cracked glass. He noticed that his sweaty shirt had been taken off and there was a cool cloth on his head.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, lacing his fingers with Richie's and looking at him with concern.

Richie groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was recount everything he had seen and the terror he had felt. He knew he couldn't avoid it forever, and Eddie was stubborn enough to make sure he'd tell.

"Can it wait?" Richie asked hopefully, looking up at Eddie with sad eyes.

"I got back to our room and you were passed out on the floor with a piece of paper that has shit written on it that is really fucking ominous. I don't think it can wait," Eddie said firmly, taking the cloth from Richie's face and walking to the bathroom to douse it in more cold water.

Richie groaned again, annoyed. "Fine but you need to get the other losers in here," he said, sitting up and wincing in pain. His back really hurt, and he assumed it had a lot to do with his fall after he passed out.

Eddie walked back to the bed and began to dab the cool cloth over Richie's face, hoping to calm him down. His heart rate was still higher than usual and he was sweaty and stressed.

"Okay," Eddie whispered, leaning in and pressing his lips to Richie. "I'll go get them."

Richie didn't want to talk; he'd be much happier if Eddie let it go for the night and cuddled with him to calm his nerves.

Fuck his adorable stubborn boyfriend.

•••

The teenagers all sat in Eddie and Richie's room, confused. It was nearly nine at night, and by then they were all usually in their rooms getting ready to sleep.

Eddie hadn't explained anything; he slammed open their doors, shocking Stan who was rubbing Bill's back as he vomited and pissing off Bev who was about to use the face mask she had requested a week before from the officials.

"This had better be worth us leaving our room," Stan snarled from the bathroom as Bill hunched over the toilet, choking up what little food and water was in his system.

"It is, Stanley," Eddie said with an eye roll before looking to Richie with a much softer expression. "Can you tell us what you saw, Chee?"

Richie frowned, obviously against opening up. He was still shirtless and constantly wiping sweat off of his face and chest, earning confused looks from the rest of his friends.