serendipity {sequel to pop} || reddie

vingt

Notes: aaand we're coming in at a record FIVE references folks see if u can spot em

Richie always hated waiting. He can't sit still for more than a few seconds. It helps to pace around; so here he is, on hour five of pacing around the hospital waiting room.

"Sit down, Rich." Bill urges. "You've got to be tired by now."

Richie shakes his head. He is very much tired, but he is not going to sit down.

The waiting room is stark-white and very plain. Richie's got every detail memorized by now, as there aren't many to note; there's a still-life painting of a flower vase on the wall opposite him, a large window on the wall to his left, a set of double-doors to his right, white chairs sitting in rows throughout the room. The chairs are hard plastic and very uncomfortable. No wonder Richie doesn't want to sit.

The seconds tick by like minutes, the minutes like hours. The Losers are a sharp contrast to the room, bloody and grimy and worn-down, and they attract a lot of strange looks, not that any of them care.

"Richie," Beverly sighs, a while later. She stands up, walking over to him and taking his arm. "Please sit down. You're freaking me out."

She begins to lead him to an empty chair. For a second, he resists, but then he tiredly complies, sitting down in the uncomfortable seat. Richie puts his head in his hands, sighing heavily.

The minutes creep by. Until, finally, finally, a nurse steps out of the doors.

"Is anyone here for Edward Kaspbrak-Tozier?" She announces, and all six of the Losers stand in unison.

"Is he okay?" Richie asks, and the rest of the group chimes in with their shared curiosity.

The nurse gives them a strange look, like the ones they've been receiving for the past seven hours, before replying. "He's still in very serious condition, but he is stable."

The Losers collectively sigh in relief.

"Can we see him?" Bill asks. Again, the group all chime in with their agreement.

"He can have visitors, yes, but unfortunately we have to limit it to family." The nurse tells them.

Richie steps forward anxiously. "I'm family." He says. Once more, the Losers nod and add their agreement. At this point, it appears as if they're some kind of hivemind.

The nurse looks Richie up and down, raising her eyebrows doubtfully. "You're family?" She asks, and the judgment is clear in her voice. "How are you related?" Her tone makes Richie's blood boil.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Richie huffs. He holds up his left hand, wedding band clear. "This band cost $700. My last name is literally part of his last name. We fuck almost every day." He says. The nurse stares in shock. "I fucking hate this homophobic ass town, let me see my husband so we can ditch this shithole."

Beverly begins clapping quietly, grinning wide. Stan pushes her hands down, but he's smiling a little, too.

The nurse blinks. "Right this way." She pushes the door open, clearly still unhappy.

Richie is led down a series of long, clean hallways, into the ICU section of the building. Finally, they arrive at room 237, and Richie is met by a doctor.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Baynes." The man extends a hand as the nurse from before leaves.

Richie shakes it. "Richie." He looks over Dr. Baynes' shoulder. "Is he in there?"

"Yes, he is." Dr. Baynes replies. "He's asleep right now, he may not wake up while you're there."

"I don't plan on leaving." Richie says.