Whumptober 2020|| Reddie

3. Insomnia

     A rustling to his right woke Richie up, although he'd only been mostly asleep, really.

     Richie rubbed his eyes, shoving his glasses on. The others were all still asleep in their sleeping bags- all except Eddie. Richie sat up, pushing off his blanket.

     He spotted Eddie curled up next to the window. Richie moved over, sitting across from him. "Hi, Eds," he whispered. Eddie smiled softly at him.

     "Hey, Richie." A stream of moonlight stretched downwards from the basement window, shining on Eddie's face. The light made the deep bags under his eyes even more visible.

     "Aren't you tired?" Richie checked his watch. "It's, like, 4 AM."

     Eddie's smile turned a bit cynical. "Can't fall asleep. And I don't really want to, either."

     Richie fidgeted slightly, waiting for a moment to see if Eddie would say anything else, then said, "Why?"

     "It's nothing. I just- I'm tired, but-" Eddie fell silent. "Never mind."

     Richie hunched over, changing his voice to a shrill falsetto. "Fess up, Spaghetti Man, tell your old Granny about it and I'll give you a chocker-chip cookie. You just tell-"

     "Alright, alright!" Eddie lunged over, covering Richie's mouth with his hand. "Jesus, Trashmouth, you'll wake up the others!" He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his face. "Fine. Just- fine. I've . . . I've been having these dreams. Nightmares, really. About-" he lowered his voice. "About It. Richie, It- It gets me. In the dreams. It stabs my chest or bites off my arm and- and I

     (float)

     die."

     Eddie looked up at Richie, his eyes glassy. "It gets me, It kills me, and it feels so real, and I just-"

     Richie wrapped an arm around him, for once at a loss for words. "They're just-" he began, and stopped himself.

     They're just dreams. But they're more than that, if they're so terrifying that Eddie won't even fall asleep. And what if they're not just dreams? What if they're-

     (visions)

     We killed It! We killed It!

     Richie's thoughts whirled around and around, his mind stuttering over the same territory.

    (but they're!!! just!!! dreams!!!)

     Eddie pressed his face into Richie's shoulder, as though he was trying to block out the same thoughts. Another intrusive idea crossed his mind as he adjusted his glasses.

     (what if he dies what would i do if eds dies)

     "Shut up," Richie muttered aloud. Eddie gave him an odd look.

     "What?"

     "Nothing. Sorry." Richie gave him an apologetic smile. "Having to listen to myself even when I'm not talking really fucking sucks, is all." Eddie didn't say anything, and Richie shifted uncomfortably. "Uh- your elbow is digging into my side."

     "Oh shit, sorry," Eddie said, turning away. Richie pretended not to notice him wipe his eyes.

     Eddie stood up, yawning hugely. He listed so far to the side that he almost fell over. Richie sighed. "Eds, me foine foine man, you really should go to sleep."

     "I can't," Eddie said, plopping down on the small couch. "I don't think you understand. I really can't."

     "Okay, well . . ." Richie grabbed a blanket, draping it over Eddie's shoulders. "Are you able to get some rest, at least?"

     "I guess." Eddie reached for a pillow, smashing his face into it.

     Richie stood back up, about to move back to his sleeping bag, when Eddie called out quietly, "Chee?"

     He froze, his heart feeling as if it would burst out of his chest. "Yeah?"

     "Could you . . ." Eddie paused. "Could you come sleep with me? I mean," he added, his face a bright red even in the dim lighting. "Not like- not like that. I just thought maybe if

     (you)

     "someone was with me, it'd be-"

     He broke off. Richie had already moved back towards the couch. Neither of them said a word as he climbed on, settling in and wrapping an arm around him.

     "G'night, Chee," Eddie mumbled as he snuggled closer.

     "Good night." Richie grinned slightly. "Now fall asleep, idiot."

     "Fuck you."