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Richie reeled when Eddie swung a punch to his jaw, stopping a second on shaky legs to feel for any lasting damage. When he was satisfied that his jaw was still on the right way, he swung at Eddie, yelling like a lunatic. Eddie ducked out of the way of Richie's intended punch to the head, but then his eyes crossed as Richie landed a swift kick to his crotch instead.
"Bastard," Eddie hissed through gritted teeth, covering his privates to prevent any further attacks from connecting.
Richie performatively blew on his fist. "Oh sorry, did that hurt?"
"Yes, it bloody well did," Eddie squeaked out. Richie's lips curled into a devilish smile.
"Want some more?" Richie teased, getting all up in Eddie's face. Eddie was still doubled over, and whispered something that was barely audible.
"What was that?" Richie asked, though all he got was another whisper in return. Richie leant even closer to Eddie's face.
"Come on Eddie, spit it out! What is it?"
Richie got a punch to the head and then a kick to the stomach in a sudden sneaky double-attack. He landed on the floor, writhing in pain. He was in no place to react efficiently to the next onslaught, as before he knew it, Eddie had grabbed the very on (and therefore very hot) iron from the ironing board, and, laughing maniacally, rammed it in between Richie's legs. Richie screamed, the iron sizzling a brown shield-shaped mark into the crotch of his jeans.
Somehow, through the pain, Richie managed to grab the handle and pushed the iron into the side of Eddie's face. Eddie cried out, batting the iron aside and getting on top of Richie, both hands grasping hard around his neck. Richie gagged and sputtered, his legs wriggling around.
"Eddie! Eddie, stop it!" he managed to blurt out. Eddie just squeezed harder, his eyes wild.
"Please!" Richie cried, though when nothing came of it, he quickly brought up his knee to jab Eddie in the balls. Eddie yelled and instinctively released his grasp, giving Richie time to start strangling him. Eddie strangled back.
Both men seethed with anger, baring their teeth as they squeezed and squeezed on each other's throats. They showed no sign of giving up, despite each successive breath getting shallower and shallower... until suddenly, the flat was bathed in pitch darkness.
They both relented, breathing heavily together as they pointlessly stared out into the black. After some coughing, Richie broke the silence.
"...Did we finally do it?"
"Do what?" Eddie answered, rubbing his neck.
"Fucking kill each other."
Eddie sat back so that he was straddling Richie, trying to look around. It was eerily silent. No noise from the street below, no stupid alsatian outside barking incessantly... nothing.
"Err... I guess so, yeah."
Richie gasped. "Oh god, oh god Eddie. We're fucking dead! Oh my god. We're dead. We're actually dea—"
Whilst Richie was blubbering, Eddie had felt around for and then grasped his mouth, shutting him up.
"For god's sake, there's no point in panicking, Richie! We're dead. That's it, mate. End of story. Just calm down, okay?"
Richie bit his hand and Eddie yelped, releasing his grip.
"How can I possibly be calm?! We have passed on, moved into the next realm... Oh, Eddie, I just knew we were getting too old for all that stupid, senseless fighting! What did all of it achieve, anyway? What were we even fighting about?"
"You were accusing me of stealing your emergency fiver again, so I was.. defending myself."
"And 'defend yourself' you fucking did, mate. I hope you're happy, now that we're both in.. well, clearly we're in hell. I really do fucking hope it was all worth it!"
"Excuse me, matey. You were strangling me just as much as I was strangling you."
"Oh, whatever. Honestly, whatever, Eddie," Richie hissed out, before he pushed at Eddie's legs. "Just get off me. Go on. Off.. you bastard."
Eddie got off him and they sat next to each other in silence for a few moments, taking it in. When they turned to each other, all they could see was the faintest outline of their silhouettes. The darkness that surrounded them felt all-consuming, and Richie shuddered, reaching out and grabbing Eddie's arm.
"Gosh, Eddie... I'm scared," he breathed. "What does all this mean? Is Satan himself going to come here soon and— and chain us up and whip us to death or something?"
"Well, I don't know matey, but what I can say is that he'd have a job whipping us to death, since we already are dead."
"Yes, yes, but you know.. eternal punishment and all that."
"Well, what would he be punishing us for?"
"Oh, Eddie. You can't seriously be asking that question, can you?"
"Yes, I am. I want a list of all the things we deserve 'eternal punishment' for."
"Well.. I think your list would be practically the size of the Bible itself. On my part, I've been a pretty stand-up kind of guy. Went to church... I can't say how many times, but basically at one point in my life I went to a church. And me and Lordy were like this—"
Richie crossed his fingers to show just how close they were, though he begrudgingly realised it was utterly pointless to gesture in the dark.
"We were close, basically. The best of friends. I'd talk and talk to him whenever I was alone.. which was, you know, most of the fucking time. It was great really because I could ask him for something, and he wouldn't necessarily do what I asked, but he'd grant me a very similar wish instead, like—"
"You make him sound like a fucking genie."
"—the one time, when I was a boy, I asked him to make my mother fall down the stairs.. and not long after I made that wish, she was bitten by a dog!"
"Wow. Weren't you a little angel? I can hear the pearly gates of heaven opening as we speak."
"Oh, my mother was horrible. Honestly, you would've understood if you had met her. I mean, one day, right out of the fucking blue, she decided to change the locks on the house so I couldn't get back in. I could see her and my sister hiding behind the sofa in the drawing room! Probably was knocking and sort of moping about outside for about two hours before I finally gave up.."
Richie let out a long sigh.
"My whole family is horrible really... but, you know, it's all just a load of bollocks. At least I have Aunt Mabel."
"Yes, the aunt who can't stand being anywhere near you, to the point where she barely checks on one of her own houses because you're in it."
"No, Eddie, no. She's just a busy woman, that's all. She loves me. Well, loved me.. when I was living."
"Hmm. Well, she had an interesting way of expressing it.. and by that I mean by not expressing it at all."
Richie temporarily released his grip on Eddie's arm to slap him round the head.
"Stop with that talk. She was all I had. Well, and you, of course. I mean, if it wasn't for you I'd have gone round the twist. Would have ended up in a looney bin somewhere.. talking away to a chair or something."
"Well, glad I am a good enough replacement for a chair, mate."
"I didn't mean it like that and you know it, you twat. Please, Eddie, stop with the jokes. We are fucking dead.. and in hell, to top it all off. So for once in your life, can you please just listen? I don't know how long we've got before the whipping and eternal bondage starts, so.. so I just want to say thank you, mate. Thank you for being there through it all."
Richie let that linger for a bit, though when he got no response from Eddie he violently shook his arm.
"Hellooo? Did you even hear any of that, Eddie?"
"Nah, mate. Was too busy wondering who is going to get all our stuff now we're dead."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Eddie. Why would you worry about something so absolutely trivial and inane when I'm right here, pouring my heart out to y— Oh. Oh, actually, yeah... I can see your point there, mate."
"What, have my trousers fallen down?"
"Don't start," Richie warned. "Anyway, I can't even see your face, let alone your fucking penis."
He then clapped his hands together, making Eddie jump a bit.
"Okay, so who do you think should get our most prized possessions then? ..Well, actually, what even are our prized possessions? A lot of what's in the flat are just various odds and ends that Aunt Mabel left about."
Eddie pondered this a moment. "Well, there's my organ," he raised.
"Ah, yes, your lovely organ. That should go to someone musical, of course."
"...But we don't know anybody musical."
"Yes we do, Eddie. Of course we do... actually, I think you might be right. Oh wait! Doesn't Hedgehog's daughter play something? I could swear he mentioned her keeping him awake at night playing something..."
"I'm fairly certain she plays the guitar."
"Close enough! The organ can go to her!"
"Right, so that's that sorted. The sofa?"
"Oh, that's a tricky one... well, maybe not so tricky, now I come to think about it. It can go to Hedgehog, since Spudgun can barely fit on the thing. Last time he sat in it he broke one of it's legs off, remember?"
"Hmm. I don't know about that one, Rich. I think what we got up to on it the week before is what broke it... Spudgun sitting on it was just the straw that broke the camel's back."
"Oh, you mean the end result of that week's 'Get the Stiffy' competition? Yes... perhaps. But still, nevermind that now. God, your mind is really just in the gutter, isn't it? The sofa goes to Hedgehog. Settled."
Richie gasped. "Oh, I feel like an auctioneer or something. Do you think hell has one of those little hammers they use about? I'd look really great right now if I was using one of those."
"Err, I don't think hell is known for supplying its residents with gavels.. or, you know, anything at all. Just whack something with your hand instead."
Richie, intending to slap the ground, blindly slapped Eddie's leg.
"Oh, shit. Sorry! God, I wish hell had a fucking lamp or something. Are we really supposed to just wander about in pitch darkness for an eternity? Bit of a pisstake, if you ask me."
"Well, I think that when we see him, you should tell that to Satan himself. From what I've heard, he is very open to feedback."
"I think I will actually. The bastard. Anyway, nevermind all that. What's the next prized possession, my darling?"
"Err. So, we've done the organ and the sofa. My inventions can go to Spudgun, since he's always asking about them. There really isn't much left, unless you want to pass your dirty mags onto anyone?"
"They can go to Father O'Malley. He'd appreciate them far more than I ever did. And god, did I appreciate them.. I appreciated them over and over again. Could hardly stop appreciating them, actually. Shit, that makes me think, hopefully he finds a way to unstick the pages.."
"Right, let's not get into that. Oh! And, of course, there's the small matter of the telly."
"Oh, easy. Hedgehog."
"What is it with you and Hedgehog? He is getting almost everything!"
"Yes, true. Though the organ is going to his daughter, not him per se. And, well, Spudgun... Spudgun is just ghastly, isn't he?"
"No? He's just a normal bloke."
"Exactly! So common," Richie spat. "Hedgehog is much more deserving. Now, don't get me wrong, they are both awful options, really. But we make do with what we have, don't we?"
"Well, I think Spudgun deserves the telly. He has such a tiny stupid little telly at home that he comes round to use ours regularly! And you're telling me he shouldn't get it?"
"Yes, that's precisely what I'm saying. I mean, wouldn't it be amazing to see Dave's little face light up on Christmas morning, his little feet pattering down the stairs and bounding into the living room, just to see our telly there waiting for him? He'd be so happy! How could we possibly take that away from him?"
"Oh christ, now you're making up weird fucking fantasies about him. You fancy him, do you? Is that it?"
"No, I don't fucking fancy him! I'm with you, aren't I? Jesus, Eddie. Get a grip!"
"It goes to Spudgun, you anus."
"It goes to Hedgehog. You— you—"
"Spudgun."
"Hedgehog."
"Spudgun."
"Hedgehog."
"Spudgun!"
"Hedgehog! Oh, fucking hell, Eddie. This isn't getting us anywh—"
Richie was abruptly cut off by the distant sound of the front door opening and closing. Then, to their horror, they heard someone starting to slowly ascend the staircase. Richie and Eddie grabbed each other and held on tight. Breathing shakily, they listened to one footstep, then another footstep. At that point, Richie couldn't take it anymore. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Now who in the everloving fuck is that? Oh. Oh, wait. Is that—"
Eddie shrieked. It had all finally hit him.
"Oh my god, it's fucking Satan!!" Eddie shouted. "It's Satan himself, come to torture our souls for the rest of time! Oh my god, Richie! We're going to end up as mincemeat! We're done for! Done for!"
Eddie started laughing wildly with fear and Richie held his arms down, desperately trying to keep him stable.
"Eddie, shhhhhh. Shut up! Shut up! He'll hear us!" he pleaded.
The footsteps kept getting closer and closer, and at some point, with the dawning realisation that it truly was all over, Eddie snapped back into coherence.
"Richie. Richie."
"Yes, Yes? I'm right fucking here, darling!"
"Richie. If we're to be tortured forever, I just— I just need you to know that I love you. I really really love you. Even if I can't say it sometimes, even when I'm being a complete and utter bastard, I still fucking love you."
"I love you too, Eddie," Richie sobbed back. "And I'll love you right to the very end of time, my dear."
They hugged and cried until they heard the living room door swing open. Though, despite their instincts, they didn't turn to look at their fate. They just continued to hold each other, eyes shut tight, bracing themselves.
Suddenly, Richie sensed the glint of a bright light, then Eddie felt the same. They slowly looked up and squinted at its source.
"Oh, er.. hello boys. So you're in the dark too, then? I think there's been a power cut or something."
Though the light had blinded them, they knew that voice. "SPUDGUN?!" they shouted simultaneously.
Spudgun stood silhouetted in their living room doorway, pointing a torch at them huddled together on the floor.
"Yeah. Sorry, did I scare you? The door was unlocked so I just came up. God... You look like you've seen a ghost or something!"
"Oh my god, Spudgun. Spudgun thank god it's you. Eddie, it's not Satan, it's just Spudgun! We're not dead!"
Eddie didn't even know what emotion to feel. "But Spudgun, why are you fucking here?" he asked through an exhale.
"I thought the electric was being funny at my house, and I didn't want to miss Emmerdale Farm at seven. Hang on... were you just saying 'thank god I'm not Satan'?"
"Right," Richie started. "That settles it, then. For the simple fact of you not being Satan, Spudgun, you can get the telly."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Yeah," Eddie agreed, before turning to Spudgun. "We were arguing about who, out of you and Hedgehog, would get our telly. Cos we thought we were dead."
Spudgun had never been so utterly confused. "You thought you were dead?" he repeated.
Eddie nodded. "Yeah, and well, anyway, you definitely would get the telly, mate. So... congratulations... or whatever."
Entirely out of energy, he lay his head back on Richie's shoulder.
"Oh, er... nice. Thanks. Err, have you guys been drinking or something? And Eddie, you do know you have a huge fucking burn on the side of your face, don't you?"
***
When the power eventually did come back on, Eddie, Richie and Spudgun caught the last fifteen minutes of Emmerdale Farm together, then continued watching other shows well into the night. Spudgun had brought up a chair, whilst Richie and Eddie were sat beside each other on the sofa, practically intertwined, with how close the two of them were. Richie rested his head on Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie had his arm wrapped around Richie, holding his waist.
For once, Eddie couldn't really focus on the telly. He was far too distracted by Richie. When he looked down at Richie leaning on him, he felt, more than ever before, that this was the person he was made for in life. And likewise, Richie was made for him. Yes, they squabbled endlessly, they had ridiculous fights every other night and regularly called each other every fucking name under the sun, but that was just how they always were. Despite all the madness and nonsense, the reality was that just like Richie only really had Eddie, Eddie only really had Richie. Richie was his family, and no other relationship in his life came close to the connection they had.
He gently pushed Richie's hair back and kissed his forehead. Richie snuggled in closer, closing his eyes when Eddie started running his fingertips back and forth through his hair.
In an ideal world, they wouldn't argue so incessantly, but they were far too familiar with the fact that the world was not and never would be ideal. Rather, they lived in their own little universe, in which they were much too obsessed with each other to truly let anybody else in, even if they wanted to. And if they had had to spend an eternity tortured side by side in hell... well, it would have been extremely shit, yes, but at least they would have still been together. Together was where they belonged.