whoa, baby! | reddie

- nine

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❝ alright, alright, mickey's a mouse, donald's a
duck, pluto's a dog. what's goofy? ❞

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All flights were delayed until late afternoon the next day and Richie had no idea what he was going to tell Eddie.

For his husband, it was around 5:00 in the morning— on their anniversary. The flight that Richie managed to get a seat on wouldn't be leaving until at least 4:00 P.M. in L.A. time, which meant he had a good eleven hours to kill, and Eddie was expecting him to be there when he woke up.

He decided to leave a video message and even though his hotel room was empty he went into the quietest corner he could find, leaned against the wall, and slid down, pulling his knees up to his chest. The shades were partially drawn, so the little amount of light that made him visible was dull.

He looked like shit.

He felt sick ever since he woke up that morning, which was much earlier than he had hoped. He had slept a total of three hours in the past day and a half. His body, unused to the frigid temperature, had failed him— his immune system was being shitty. It wasn't bad, though— it would be shaken off before the flight was over, he was confident of that. So he sat there, shivering a little bit despite the heat being on, and told himself to try not to cough or sneeze while he filmed.

He hit the record button and began to talk.

"Hey, baby," he began shakily, sniffling a little bit. "God, I should have blown my nose before I started to record." He laughed nervously, and fell silent, suddenly entirely unsure of what to say. Just 'I love you' was too desperate— Eddie was not going to be impressed with that.

He wasn't going to be impressed with any of this, to be fair, but Richie wanted this to blow over as smoothly as possible. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to hit the wall with a soft thump.

"You hate waking up in the morning," he finally said, unmoving. "But you used to tell me that it was easier when I was there to wake up with you. And I guess it's not going to be so easy this morning. Especially not going to be so easy this morning." His brow furrowed and his eyes cracked open. He stared at the ceiling, aware that this was the least flattering angle of himself that he could capture as he sniffled again, cursing under his breath.

"I fucked up, sweetheart," Richie said, and he was surprised to hear his voice scratching, to feel something wet hit his cheek. "I just— It's not an excuse, but I wanted to get you something good. Something worthwhile. I wanted the first year to mean something. And I fucked up." He smiled through his tears, lifting his head and shrugging at the camera. "But I guess that's just like me, isn't it?"

He took a deep, shaking breath, trying to get himself under control, but his face crumpled and he just ended up letting out a soft, anguished noise.

"God, you have no idea how much I wish I was there with you right now." He pulled his glasses off and swiped the tears from his eyes, but more just came back, even faster this time. "I'd just look at you for a little while— because you're beautiful, sweetheart, I mean, God fucking damn, you're gorgeous— and then I'd... I'd kiss you. And your nose would scrunch up, the cute way that it always does when I try to wake you up." He laughed, but it was a painful sound, and he shook his head, biting his lip harshly to keep himself from crying aloud.

"And you'd tell me to fuck off, or let you sleep, or some cute shit like that," he sobbed, lifting his free hand to cover his face. "God, I'm such a fuck up..." He just cried for a few seconds, sniffling pitifully, and working up the willpower to continue.

When he was finally settled down enough to keep going, he lifted his head and pushed the curls out of his forehead, sure that his eyes were starting to look puffy. Eddie wasn't going to believe a word of this.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I've never wanted anything more than to be home with you on this day. This fucking day. But I can't even get that right, so I'm sorry. And I hope you'll forgive me when I get home at 11:00 tonight, and maybe you're already sleeping, and you were on your own for our whole Goddamn anniversary. Jesus Christ." He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and wiping them again on his long sleeves.

"I didn't sleep last night," he said softly after another few moments of silence. "I couldn't stop thinking about— about how I let you fall asleep thinking I'd be there when you woke up. How I hung up the phone without telling you that I wasn't actually getting on my plane. And how much I miss you, because my God, sweetheart... I miss you like an astronaut misses the Earth beneath his feet. I miss you like the whole world misses the sun when it goes down every evening. I miss you like... like I've never missed anything ever in my life." He ran a hand down the side of his face and rested his cheek on his palm, looking straight at the camera.

"And I love you," he added, hoping he didn't sound too desperate. "But I won't make you sit through any analogies for that because you know that I love you more than I love the very oxygen I breathe."

He paused again, knowing that this video was beginning to get much longer than he should send in one message. So he decided to wrap it up.

"They say that to love someone, you first have to love yourself," he said, brow furrowing. "Okay," he relented, making a 'meh' face. "I can see where they're coming from. But let me tell you something, baby." He smiled a sad, painful smile. "I didn't love myself till long after I started loving you. I didn't love myself until you told me why you did. That's when I started to see it."

"So maybe I'm a fuck up," he shrugged. "But I think we already knew that, didn't we?" He laughed a little bit, running his fingers through his curls. "And you always said you loved me anyway. So even though I'm the worst husband in the world, and I made the biggest mistake yet— besides leaving you behind when we were kids— I hope you love me enough to let this one slide." He raised his eyebrows, falling silent, then realized, and grinned.

"I don't know why I'm waiting for a reply. You're not here. God, I'm exhausted." He inhaled deeply and rolled his neck, listening to the soft crackles and pops that Eddie hated so much. "Alright. This video is too long and almost all of it is be being miserable, so I'm gonna tell you I love you again, and leave it at that." He sat up straight, looked straight into the camera, and mustered up his softest smile yet.

"I love you, sweetheart. I'll be home soon."

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