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He walks into his hotel room at a quarter past nine, tossing his wallet on the dresser and drawing the curtains shut, blocking out the lights of the city. He grabs the TV remote and collapses on the bed, flipping through the channels restlessly for a few minutes before turning it back off. He opens his phone and smiles sadly at the new messages from Bill.
Sorry you don’t feel well, buddy!
We had a great time :)
He swallows against the shame he feels. He does feel like shit, it’s true, but it’s not because he’s got a headache. It’s because all he could focus on was Mike’s arm wrapped around Bill’s shoulders, the open adoration on their faces, the way neither of them could stop smiling. Richie loves his friends, he does, and Sydney is an amazing place to hang out with two people that he loves. But seeing them like that made him uncomfortably aware of how empty his side of the booth was, the air cold and empty next to him. He misses Eddie so much he can hardly stand it.
He opens the world clock on his phone and wipes angrily at the tears that suddenly burn in his eyes. Tomorrow, +19 HRS. Los Angeles. 02:24.
He opens his messages again, opens the last one from Eddie.
I’m going to bed, have a good time with Bill and Mikey okay. Love you
He reads it. Then he reads it again. And again. Until he’s pressing the phone to his ear and it’s ringing, ringing, ringing. It goes to voicemail, because of course he’s still asleep, it’s two in the morning. He hears Eddie’s voice telling him to leave a message and gasps, breath shuddering out, and that’s when he realizes his cheeks are hot because he’s crying.
“Hey,” he chokes out when he hears the beep. “Sorry. I know you’re asleep. I just miss you and wanted to—I don’t know. I guess I wanted to hear your voice. I really wish you were here, Eds, I miss you so much. I—just. Fuck. I love you. Bye.”
He hangs up, dropping the phone in his lap. He takes off his glasses and then lifts the collar of his shirt to wipe his face, breath hot and suffocating as he lingers there with his face tucked into his shirt. Finally, he stands up and unbuttons his pants, stepping out of them with heavy legs, exhaustion and loneliness pulling at him. He lies down and pulls the covers up to his chin, curling into himself as the air conditioning kicks back on. He starts to shiver. He’s not cold; he’s just overwhelmed.
He’s only been lying down for a few minutes when his phone starts to buzz incessantly on the bed next to him. Eddie’s name on the screen makes his heart jump in a desperate sort of way, and his finger trembles lightly as he answers the call.
“I miss you, too,” Eddie says before Richie even has a chance to say hello.
He laughs softly, though it sounds shaky because he’s still crying and he’s shivering even harder now. He burrows into the covers even more, clutching the phone so hard his hand’s going to start cramping up any second.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, smiling when Eddie scoffs loudly.
“Don’t be stupid. I sleep like shit when you’re not here, of course I’m going to call you back after a message like that,” Eddie says.
“I love you,” is all Richie can think to say to that. “I just want to come home. Fuck.”
“It’s only a few more days,” Eddie says, softer now. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“No, you’re not,” he mumbles, even though he knows that’s unfair. “If you were here, I wouldn’t be crying like an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“I left two of my best friends downstairs so I could go up my room and cry while calling my boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind,” Eddie says, which makes Richie choke out a broken laugh.
“I wish I could kiss you right now.” He turns his face into the pillow. He feels stretched thin.
“I’ll be there waiting for you when the plane lands. Then you can kiss me all you want.”
“Okay,” Richie says, something loosening in his chest. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“You should get some sleep,” Eddie says, as if it’s not the middle of the night on his side of the world. “I love you. Call me when you wake up?”
“Yeah. Of course. I love you, too.”
“Goodnight, Richie,” Eddie says before hanging up.
Richie tucks the phone against his chest, holding it against his heart all night long.