Chapter Text
"Eddie," Richie exhales more than says as he paces back and forth in the hospital room in front of his bed. Boy, a month ago they just did this same routine in Derry. They all killed the beast and went back to their own lives, the whole gang.
But Myra at home didn’t exactly feel like a happy ending. In fact, the harshness of the abuse and emotional incest at the foundation of his marriage was making Eddie crazy. Like that asshole Oedipus when he realized he was fucking his mom clawing his eyes out, Eddie thought a nice trip into the blissful sweet release of death would be a good cap to this shitshow of a life.
But he didn’t do a very good job. Eddie has been called brave, but staring down the knife really puts shit in perspective. Maybe he should have jumped off a bridge.
Richie is pissed. It’s so interesting to watch all detachedly from medications and shock and shit. Richie looks sooo furious. It’s not a look Eddie remembers ever seeing on him before. Maybe over his broken arm? His face is all scrunched up and he keeps like exhaling loudly like he wants to yell or something but he just keeps pacing.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Edward?"
That's cutting it right to the quick. "Richie come on." Eddie tries to smooth over, trying to lighten the mood and ease up the scolding. He feels like a kid again, helpless and really lost.
"No. You literally just survived a murderous alien clown. Not that long ago. What is wrong with you? Why is that....what the fuck are you throwing that away for?" Richie is yanking in his hair and throwing his arms around to emphasize the enormity of his emotion.
Eddie is so taken aback by the reprimand, he forgets there was anything to answer. It all seemed rhetorical.
Rrichie snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face a few times to get his attention, "Hello? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Well. I wasn't exactly living a life i wanted to go back to?" He trails off but finishes like it's a question. There hasn't been the most introspection on Eddie’s part here. Just sort of like…realization. Followed by disgust, repulsion, and ultimately action.
"You can’t be doing this shit. Don't do it do this shit, Eddie." Richie collapses to the bed, perched now on the edge. He puts a hand on Eddie's and squeezes, but uses that motion to shake him into making eye contact. "I didn't think this was how this would go. What the fuck?"
Richie's eyes are wide and bloodshot and wet. The bags under his eyes are casting shadows, that's crazy. Eddie marvels that he hasn't seen someone look like this in a while. Richie sorta showed up to Derry looking like this.
"What do you care what shit I do? I haven’t seen you since Derry." Eddie bites, but it seemed like everyone was happy to go home and move on and never talk. Except Ben and Bev who keep sending pictures of their new house together into a group chat that no one else talks in. Eddie doesn’t know what anyones up to: Bill, Stan, Mike OR Richie. No one reached out. Why should Eddie be the only one who tries. None of them even ever asked his wife's name. He’s been alone in New York with his mom-wife questioning his every move and like, his friends who he forgot even existed don’t even care to call. Big shot Richie in Los Angeles, maybe really Eddie just feels helpless because at least he didn’t remember how miserable he was. It feels so much worse to be in love with his best friend who doesn’t seem to want to even be friends. And then also, he married his mother. Not literally but, close enough to want to kill himself.
With Bev, though, everyone was so keen on asking about her divorce and her husband's disappearance or whatever. Eddie leans back in his hospital bed and stares off at the vital monitor. It’s beeping away and there’s numbers in it shifting and moving around. It’s kind of a blur. His eyes are so bleary. Blood loss or something. Eddie picks at the blankets again waiting for Richie to say something, but when he glances up Richie is just staring at him intensely and imploringly like he needs Eddie to say something specifically. Maybe he missed another question. He’s nodding off before either of them break the tense silence, but Richie’s hand is still on his arm.