06: NOTHING TO PROVE

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06: NOTHING TO PROVE
by: val_creative (ao3)
r+e

06: NOTHING TO PROVE by: val_creative (ao3)r+e

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Nightmares happen.

Richie deals with them by calmly walking over to the nearest toilet-bowl and vomiting spectacularly into it. Scrubbing the flat of his tongue with a wet, minty toothbrush until it hurts. Ducking into the low-lit kitchen and gulping a couple fingers of whiskey.

But, Eddie... Richie tries his damnedest to be there for him, while Eddie's having his own nightmares.

On Thursday night, he heard Eddie crying out in his sleep, in long, broken wails. Richie burst in, seeing him thrashing, and attempted to wake Eddie. Richie's hands shaking him carefully from the terrifying experience. But in the process, Eddie threw out his hands—not seeing Richie but the leper, the fucking-damn leper—and gripped onto Richie's neck, as if meaning to strangle him to death.

Didn't take it personally. Richie hated the timing though, when he discovered his stiffy. Eddie had been too mortified by Richie seeing him vulnerable and homicidal from the nightmares to catch anything like that, apologizing for a good half an hour.

It's the kind of fucked up they all are. For better or worse.

*

Hotel maintenance says the power outage on upper floor is temporary. That had been four hours ago.

Eddie manages to score a single battery-operated tea light from god-knows where. He fishes out the long-lasting, emergency flashlights from his suitcase. Richie doesn't mind using his phone, but his... partner? boyfriend? his first and only love? y'know, whatever the hell it is... insists they don't drain the phone-batteries. For emergencies.

(Not everything's a goddamn emergency.)

They crack open a wine bottle, or two, getting tipsy and reminiscing about their old classmates.

How Judy Moore got caught snorting talcum powder in the back-row of Hill's history class, mistakenly thinking it was cocaine. Or how Paul Johnson—the senior captain of the football team—and his teammates set loose a dozen live chickens into the girl's basketball game. Or how Richie tripped Belch during lunch period, when they were sixteen. He got his front tooth chipped.

Eddie traces his finger over Richie's lips, rubbing on the chip. It's not even noticeable.

He and Richie snuggle down on the floor with clean-smelling blankets from the hallway's wall-cabinet. There's no way Eddie can lay in that bed. He inspected the sheets and mattress, locating not only food crumbs and lint, but a weird and humongous piss-colored stain. Richie doesn't argue with him about it. The floor is mostly carpeting, and he's a little suspicious as well. The hotel-pillows reek like someone else's BO.

It's alright wherever Eddie lies with him, face-to-face. Holding onto Richie. Eddie's mouth opening, sucking a kiss to Richie's bottom lip. "You feeling okay...?" Richie whispers, thumbing over Eddie's chin and kissing back, looking him over.

𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒖 ⚘ 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵Where stories live. Discover now