Author's note: I apologize profusely for leaving this story for so long. As some of you may know (if you've been reading my other Reddie story, The Space Between Us), I lost my beloved seventeen-year-old kitty in December, so I had a very rough holiday to say the least. Then I got to working on my other story, and it was very hard getting back into this one, but here it is finally! Thank you to those who are still reading this and for your continued interest. I appreciate you for sticking with me and this story, and please know that I'm not going anywhere. I will eventually finish this story, even if some updates take a little bit longer than others! I hope this chapter was worth the wait!
The title of this chapter is taken from the song of the same name by Lindsey Buckingham. I've been listening to it a lot lately, and it felt like it fit the feel of this chapter.
Brave
Chapter 26 – Time Bomb Town
When Richie opened his eyes again, he had a brief moment of panic when he wasn't sure where he was. He was met with an unfamiliar circle of lights swirling around a mirror on the other side of the room, but then it all came rushing back to him. It was the mirror he had gotten ready in front of just before his final show in Reno.
Richie was back in the relative safety of his dressing room, lying on the couch that formed a small sitting area with a coffee table. Richie groaned, shutting his eyes against the lights and turning his head away from the source. They were moving and pulsing, making his stomach lurch uncomfortably the longer he stared at them.
"There he is," said a familiar voice that Richie couldn't quite place in his current state of confusion.
Richie was having enough of a time trying to remember exactly what had happened during the show and why he couldn't recall any of it. Something cool pressed again his forehead, and when his stomach stopped clenching, Richie opened his eyes again to see who was fussing over him.
Richie realized that he was looking up into the kind brown eyes of someone he hadn't gotten a good look at since back in Derry – it was James, Eddie's nurse. He was currently pressing a cold washcloth against Richie's forehead and was smiling down at him.
"Hey," James said when he noticed that Richie was watching him. "You took a header on your way off the stage. I told them I was a nurse, so they let me back to check on you."
"Oh, fuck," Richie muttered, turning away from James and pressing a hand over his eyes. "Tell me I didn't bomb as bad as I think I did. Again."
"Jesus Christ, Rich," Jason said next, making his presence known. "I thought you cracked your head open, and you're worried about bombing."
"No such luck," Richie mumbled, rubbing at his eyes harshly. "My head is still in one piece."
"You'll probably have a huge ass bump and bruise here for the foreseeable future," James said, gently laying the washcloth against Richie's hairline, "but yeah, still in one piece. We should get some ice on that. It'll help with the swelling."
"Could…" Richie began, chancing a glance at Jason over James's shoulder. "Could we just get the fuck out of here first? I know I barely even made a dent in my planned material for tonight, but I rather doubt the audience even wants that now, do they?"
"I've already made an announcement that the show was canceled," Jason said, coming to sit on the coffee table next to James. "I said they could either get a refund for their ticket or request a free ticket to an upcoming show."
"Fuck," Richie exclaimed, pressing both hands over his eyes this time. "That's two shows I've bombed in the last few months. I'll be lucky if I ever have anyone wanting a ticket to my show ever again."
"Hey," Jason said, reaching out to lay a hand on Richie's arm. When Richie finally lowered one of his hands to look at him, Jason continued on. "Shit happens, okay? It's not like this was your fault. That asshole could have gotten a refund on his ticket at any time if he felt that way about you. He didn't have to come here, display what a dumbass homophobe he is, and ruin everyone else's night."
Richie lowered his other hand, his eyes darting to James before he focused down on his lap. He picked at one of the buttons on his blazer, swallowing hard under James's eyes.
"I meant what I said, you know," James told him, his deep brown eyes feeling like they were boring into Richie. "That wasn't just for the show." James broke off into a snort before he added, "Although it was. Dumbass homophobe was on my last nerves. I finally get a chance to see Richie's Tozier's show, and he had to go and spoil it."
Richie still didn't meet James's eyes as he said, "Thanks, man. And I regret to inform you that you won't be seeing that show again."
"Rich…" Jason began, but Richie didn't let him get very far.
"I just mean that he won't be seeing that show in particular," Richie explained. "That was my last scheduled show with my old material, and it's going to stay that way. I'm done with these shows that are nothing but a lie, pretending like I'm a fucking ladies' man, because we all know that couldn't be further from the truth." Richie kept running the button on his blazer between his fingers as he said, "The next time I go on stage, I'm coming out, end of story. And if people don't like gay Richie Tozier, they can go fuck themselves. I'm tired of living a lie, and I'm not going to give anyone else this kind of power over me ever again." When Richie finally let go of his button, he looked up at the other two men, his eyes going back and forth between them. "No one else will have a chance to call me out like that ever again, because I'm calling myself out."
A smile bloomed across Jason's face as he put his hands up. "Okay."
"Okay," Richie agreed, suddenly pushing himself into a sitting position. He turned on the couch, letting his feet drop to the floor.
"Are you sure you're all right to get up?" James asked, lightly wrapping a hand around Richie's forearm. "You did almost crack your head open."
"I'm all right," Richie said. He rubbed at his eyes again before taking a moment to look around the room. He glanced to the opposite wall where his dressing table was, and at least the ring of lights there weren't swirling around in a bright mess anymore. He focused on the floor next, checking to make sure that it wasn't rocking back and forth like the deck of a ship, and that was steady too. "I just…really want to get back to the privacy of my hotel room and pretend that this entire fucking night never happened. Then I'll lay down and rest all you want me to."
"Okay," James relented. "Is it okay if I accompany you back there though? I'd like to make sure that you really are okay before I leave."
"I said the privacy of my hotel room," Richie reiterated, his expression stern. When James nodded in understanding, Richie grinned in response. "But an exception is made for my manager and anyone that makes sure I didn't crack my head open when I was out on stage. And sticks up for me when someone else starts calling me homophobic names."
James returned the smile and said, "Think nothing of it."
"Thank you anyway," Richie said. "It means a lot that…not everyone's going to hate my guts just because I want to be myself." He stared down at his hands again, rubbing them furiously against each other.
James laid a reassuring hand on Richie's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "Neither of us do."
"And there are a lot of people who won't," Jason added. "Not everyone's going to be like that asshole out there."
Richie nodded in acknowledgement, feeling the burning of tears in his eyes. He sniffled quietly before reaching up under his glasses, quickly wiping away any evidence that he had been crying. When he straightened his glasses on his nose he said, "Now can we please get the hell out of here?"
"Yeah," Jason agreed before getting up from the coffee table. He went to the coat rack near the door and retrieved the baseball cap he had worn to the casino that evening. He returned to the sofa and held it out for Richie. "Here," he said. "We can go out the back, but this'll help hide your face until we get to the car."
Richie took it gratefully, smoothing back his curly black locks before he pulled the hat down over his hair.
"And you can wear my hoodie too," James said, unzipping his sweatshirt and pulling it off before handing it to Richie.
James was about three sizes bigger than Richie, so the hoodie felt like a tent on him, but he would take it nonetheless. He normally enjoyed meeting his fans and signing autographs on his way to his car after his shows, but the last thing he wanted tonight was to run into anyone who had seen him crash and burn on stage. He wrapped James's hoodie around himself, zipping it up and pulling the hood up over his head as well. It felt oddly comforting, knowing that it had come from a friend, someone who wanted to protect him, and Richie thought he saw why Eddie was so partial to wearing Richie's clothes now.
Both James and Jason flanked Richie as they made their way towards the back door of the casino. Richie kept his head down the entire time, letting the other two men guide his way, scared to death that anyone would recognize him and call attention to him. No one did, however, and they made it the whole way to the car without anyone calling Richie out again.
When the three men made it back to Richie's hotel room, James immediately filled the ice bucket from the vending machine in the hallway. He then made an ice pack with the plastic bags that were included, wrapping it in a hand towel from the bathroom. James then piled up some pillows on the bed and made Richie lie down, pressing the ice pack gently over the spot that had unceremoniously met with the stage floor.
Richie groaned, both at the pain that flared up in his forehead from the pressure and at being fussed over like he was a goddamn baby.
"It's going to stop your head from swelling up like a balloon," James said, seeming to sense Richie's trepidation.
"That's all I need," Richie whined, covering his eyes with his arm. "To go home to Eddie with a fucking goose egg on my head and having to explain to him how it got there."
Sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed, James asked, "Not that I had any doubt, but you and Eddie are still together?" One of his eyebrows had gone up and the corner of his lips twitched, like he fully knew the answer to his question, but he was trying to distract Richie from what had gone on that night.
It partially worked, because Richie felt himself relaxing the tiniest bit and smiling at the mention of Eddie's name. It was nice having the topic brought up in a nice way, and not something that Richie immediately had to go on the defensive about.
"Yeah," Richie replied around a contented sigh. "We're actually…going to get married. It kind of happened really fast, but…I proposed to him and he said yes."
Richie reached into the pocket of his jeans for his cell phone. He quickly scrolled through the pictures until he came across his and Eddie's engagement picture – the one of them lying in the hammock in the clubhouse with Eddie comfortably pressed up against Richie's chest, his engagement ring shining in the white Christmas lights. Richie stared at it for nearly a minute, enjoying the sense of warmth that spread out from the center of his chest. Things felt like they had been so much simpler then, like the only thing he needed to think about was when Eddie could finalize his divorce and he and Richie could get married. But now, Richie had so many more pressing things on his mind, like what in god's name was going on on social media where his name was concerned.
Trying to push that thought from his mind, Richie turned his phone around so that James could see the photo. "Our engagement picture," Richie said, and that was another nice feeling – being able to show it to someone who wouldn't judge him for it.
"Don't look unless you want to be totally disgusted by cuteness," Jason said. He was over at the little refrigerator in the corner, withdrawing three bottles of water. "They're completely head over heels for each other in case you couldn't tell." He crossed the room, holding two bottles of water our for Richie and James.
"I caught them making out more than once back when Eddie was in the hospital in Maine," James explained, taking a bottle from Jason. "I've seen it all before. And I think they're kind of cute."
Jason scoffed as Richie took the bottle of water from him. "You two really can't keep your hands off each other if you're making out in front of virtual strangers, can you?" Jason asked as he sat down on the other bed.
"Shut up," Richie muttered, setting his phone down on the bed next to him and staring longingly at the picture of him and Eddie. Truth be told, however, he didn't mind Jason's teasing in the least. Yeah, he was absolutely fucking crazy about Eddie and he had spent decades hiding it from everyone, least of all himself. It was so exhilarating to be able to talk about it and to be teased about it like it was any normal relationship.
And it was a normal relationship, which Richie had to keep reminding himself of.
Richie opened his bottle of water and took a sip before he said, "Anyway, I was talking to Eddie last night, and he wanted me to invite you both to Thanksgiving dinner." He focused his gaze on James before he added, "Considering you'll still be out here of course."
"Yeah, man," James responded. "I still have another week and a half out here, so I can definitely squeeze in a drive down to LA at the end of it. I'd love to see Eddie and everyone again."
"And I get to finally meet the mysterious Eddie," Jason said. "I was beginning to think that Richie was making the whole thing up. Except for these sickeningly romantic pictures you keep coming up with."
"Oh, he's real," James said after a swallow of water. "Worst patient ever. I can vouch for it."
"So why do you like this asshole again?" Jason asked. He paused with his water bottle in the air, staring at Richie over the top of it.
"'Cause he is an asshole!" Richie cried, waving around one of his hands for emphasis. He fell into silence for a moment, staring down at his now darkened phone. Richie took a deep breath before he said, "He's one of the few people who never truly got sick of my trashmouth and wrote me off the way a lot of other people do. I mean, he pretends I'm a pain in the ass, but…I know he never really means it, 'cause he wouldn't still be my friend if he did. And…" Richie trailed off, taking a moment to look Jason directly in the eye. "You know by now that I especially gravitate toward people who can keep up with me. Who can throw all my trash-talking right back at me without hesitation, and who won't ever hold it against me if I say shit without thinking. Because I do that a lot in case you haven't noticed. And…I don't know."
Richie stopped again, his hand hovering just above his cell phone, thinking of looking through some of his pictures again. In the end, he didn't and added, "Eddie was always the one that I felt could truly keep up with me, and somehow…that evolved into our own secret way of flirting." Richie bit at his bottom lip, trying not to let his smile show. "Even though all of our friends figured it out way before the two of us did. But then…he's not always like that. You kind of have to work to get through that gruff exterior he's built up, but once you do…" Richie broke off with a sigh.
Richie's mind traveled to some of his more intimate moments with Eddie – lying in bed with him and whispering about the life they were building with each other. The way Eddie would reach out for Richie's hand when their conversations turned to something serious. The way Eddie held him so tenderly, threading his fingers through Richie's hair whenever they were making out. The way Eddie could always get him to open up about his deepest, darkest fears and insecurities.
Eventually.
Those were things about Eddie that no one else would ever get to see. That no one else on the face of the earth would ever be lucky enough to share with Eddie. Not even Myra had been able to uncover that layer of Eddie. Just Richie. Because for some reason that Richie was still trying to wrap his head around, Eddie wanted Richie just as much as Richie wanted him. Wanted that angry little bundle of nerves that had a fiery passion in him that Richie would never get tired of seeing.
"Well, it's kind of like being my friend," Richie finally went on when he realized that both James and Jason were staring at him. "Once you put up with my trashmouth for so long, you realize that it's not what I'm entirely about. I just use it to weed out the people who aren't worth my time. Eddie's the same way."
As if on cue, Richie's phone let out a soft ping, but he didn't even have to look to know who the text message was from.
Eds (12:27 AM): I love you and hope tonight went well. Call me when you get a chance.
Richie immediately turned his phone face down, setting it on the mattress, because he wasn't quite ready to open that can of worms just yet.
"It's Eddie," Richie told Jason and James. "He wants me to call him whenever I get a chance."
"I'm going to head back to my hotel then," James said, raising his arms over his head and stretching. "Now that I'm satisfied that you have no lasting brain damage."
Jason snorted around another sip of water. "This idiot has always had brain damage."
Both of the men had gotten up off the mattresses and James asked, "Do you need anything else before we leave?"
Richie swallowed hard before he let out a quiet, "Yeah." All of a sudden, however, his throat felt dry and he took a gulp of water to try and swallow it away. The feeling, the lump still sat there, but Richie was able to say, "Just…don't leave yet."
"Okay," James said slowly before dropping back down onto the bed beside Richie. He spared a glance at Jason before he said, "I have nowhere to be, so I can hang around if you want."
It was Jason's turn to drop down onto the other mattress again, staring long and hard at Richie. Gone was his wisecracking manager, his face giving way to care and concern, just as it had when Richie had come out to him. "Are you okay, man?" he asked, frowning deeply.
Richie momentarily picked up his cell phone again only to drop it back down onto the bed without even looking at it. He huffed out an annoyed breath before he explained, "Once you two are gone, I'll have no choice but to call Eddie."
"And that's a bad thing…?" James asked, trailing off and motioning for Richie to go on.
"I really, really don't want to have to tell him about what happened tonight." Richie pulled his glasses off, setting them down on the bed next to his phone. He rubbed at his eyes, staring up at the now blurry and out of focus ceiling. On the way a thin pillar of moonlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains spread across the off-white paint.
Silence had settled into the room which James eventually broke. "He's your fiancé," he said quietly. "I rather doubt he's going to judge you because of the actions of one asshole. Hell, I don't think you'd want him to be your fiancé if he would do shit like that."
"Not judge me," Richie replied. "Of course he wouldn't. But…I hate the thought of telling him that I failed so horribly. Again."
"Which is the fault of that asshole," Jason said. "You're not the one who fucked up."
"I know that," Richie said. "I just…I feel like – I don't know. I feel like I failed, because I stood there like a fucking idiot and couldn't say anything back. I should have just pulled it together and went on with my show like nothing happened. That's what you're supposed to do when people pull shit like that. That's the way to tell them that what they're doing doesn't bother you. I just…broke down. Fell apart. And that's how I failed. And it's embarrassing."
A deep scowl had settled over Richie's features as he prodded at his cell phone with the tips of his fingers. "Why can't I pull my shit together? Why can't I be brave?" Richie asked of no one in particular.
He knew Eddie would tell him otherwise, but Richie still didn't feel like he had done anything even remotely brave in his life. Even when he had been down in the depths of the sewer underneath Derry confronting that stupid clown, Richie never felt like any of his actions had been brave. Richie had just…reacted. And sometimes he had done stupid stuff and had just gotten lucky.
He hadn't been brave like the other Losers and certainly not like Eddie had.
Richie had been in the Deadlights for it, but he still desperately wished he could have seen Eddie stab that fucking spider clown. With the way the other Losers had raved about it, Richie had a fantastical image in his mind of what it must have looked like with Eddie running towards It and his spear flying through the air. That was probably the bravest thing Richie could have ever witnessed in his life, and Eddie still thought Richie was brave?
"You're only just beginning to come out," Jason said, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning in towards Richie. "I know it's been a huge step for you to make that decision for yourself, so I think it's understandable why you just froze. Hell, I'd be willing to bet that even people who have been out for a while wouldn't know how to react to something like that."
James hummed in agreement. "It's not really something you prepare yourself for, especially in today's world, where you expect people to be a little more accepting about shit. You seriously think people haven't said shit to me because I'm black? Because I can tell you, they have. It hasn't happened a lot, but it has happened and…believe me, I didn't know what to say to that shit either. And sometimes it's better to not say anything at all." James paused for a while before let out a breath and added, "Except when it's your friend who's thrown into the exact same position."
Richie forced a smile, trying his best to convey his appreciation to James for sticking up for him. And Richie still didn't think there were words in the English language to express how he felt.
"It's so fucking stupid," Richie muttered, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "Why can't people just be themselves? What's it matter to that asshole if I'm in love with another man for fuck's sake?"
James reached out, placing a hand overtop of Richie's as he said, "I don't know."
Eddie absolutely hated being one of those kinds of boyfriends, but it was getting so late. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and he still hadn't heard from Richie. All of the other times Richie had called him after his shows, it had been well before midnight.
Since it had been Richie's very last show in Reno (and hopefully the very last show Richie would do with material that wasn't his), perhaps he had gone out to celebrate with Jason afterwards. Maybe James had even joined them and they had lost track of time.
It wasn't that Eddie didn't trust Richie, because he had never trusted anyone more in his life. He knew for a fact that Richie would never do anything to hurt him, and it was one of the things that Eddie loved most about him. Eddie was just worried that the show hadn't gone so well and Richie was having a particularly rough time with it. He knew all of these shows had been so trying for Richie – and the lies and the persona Richie had to hold up – and Eddie couldn't be happier that there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.
Eddie squeezed his phone in one hand as he made his way through the apartment, turning lights off and checking to make sure that everything was locked and secure for the night. He kept compulsively turning his phone screen up towards himself, afraid that he hadn't heard a text or a call come through. But no, he hadn't missed anything.
Eddie didn't understand why Richie hadn't even texted him back. Even if he had gone out after his show, he could have let Eddie know that he was going to be late and that they'd talk later. Eddie's thumb hovered over his phone screen, and he almost had to physically restrain himself to keep from sending Richie another text message. He'd already sent one less than a half an hour ago, and he wasn't going to be a stupid, needy, clingy, demanding boyfriend. Not the way Myra had been with him.
He wouldn't.
He and Richie had just talked the previous night about how important and healthy it was for them both to maintain their own interests and lives outside of each other. Eddie certainly wasn't going to hound Richie now just because Richie was a little bit late getting in touch with him.
When Eddie got to the bedroom, he set his phone down on the bed before climbing under the covers. He turned off the bedside lamp and inched over towards Richie's side of the bed, inhaling deeply. One of the things Eddie loved the most about living in Richie's apartment was the fact that his fiance's scent was all over everything. It was comforting in a way that Eddie never thought he would experience. He certainly had been this stupid in love with Myra, curling around her side of the bed and sniffing the sheets whenever she wasn't there.
Just with Richie.
Eddie was just beginning to drift off when his ringtone immediately stirred him awake. Eddie's hand scrambled up out of the comforter and over the sheets, searching for his phone in the darkened room.
"Rich," Eddie said, smiling warmly into the receiver. He closed his eyes again, letting his head settle back down into his pillow.
"Hey," Richie replied, "sorry it's so late."
When Richie didn't offer anything more, Eddie swallowed hard and asked, "How'd it go tonight?"
Richie didn't reply right away, but then he let out a heavy sigh. "Okay. You know."
"Yeah," Eddie told him, opening his eyes and rolling over onto his back.
A very heavy feeling had settled into Eddie's stomach. He was more than used to trying to cheer Richie up after one of his shows, but this was something else entirely. There was a distinct tone in Richie's voice that Eddie didn't like, even more so than normal. Eddie could tell something was horribly wrong with Richie, but he didn't quite know what it was nor did he know how to ask.
"Did, um…did you go out for drinks or something with Jason afterwards?" Eddie asked, trying to keep the conversation moving. Richie was always a lot more talkative, even on nights when he felt particularly stressed, and he always started to relax the more they talked. But not tonight.
"No," Richie said, sounding slightly confused.
"It's just a lot later than when you normally call me," Eddie explained. "I just thought…" Eddie trailed off then, not quite how to voice what he was feeling. Or how to get Richie to talk to him about what was really wrong.
"Oh, no," Richie told him. "I…actually just got talking to James after the show, and he and Jason came back to my hotel room. We just lost track of time."
"Oh, so you did see James," Eddie said, trying desperately to latch onto a topic that might pull Richie out of his funk. "Did you ask him and Jason about Thanksgiving?"
"Yeah," Richie said. "They're both on board."
"Great," Eddie said, even though he felt anything but. Richie's tone remained bored and slightly monotone, like he had absolutely no interest in getting their friends together for the holiday. Even though he had been all for it last night. "I talked to the rest of the Losers, and they're all going to try and make it too."
"Can't wait."
More silence followed, and it was so wrong. Even on Richie's hardest nights, he never had a problem keeping the conversation going with Eddie. Hell, most of the time, they couldn't shut up if they tried.
"What time are you coming home tomorrow?" Eddie asked, because he was almost afraid that Richie was ready to hang up with him. And they had so much more to talk about before that happened, even though Eddie was fairly sure that those things would remain unsaid, at least for the time being.
"Depends what time I get up and get on the road," Richie said around a soft yawn. "I'll probably sleep in until nearly lunch, so closer to dinnertime."
"I'll make you a welcome home dinner then," Eddie said, knowing that one of the ways to Richie's heart was through his stomach. "Anything you want. Just name it."
"Mm, whatever."
"Come on, Rich," Eddie said, trying to push his growing annoyance down. Richie was pretty easy going about what they ate, but sometimes, Eddie really wished that he would give him some ideas. "Chicken, beef, fish, pasta…? Give me a hint here."
"I don't know," Richie replied, frustration ebbing into his own voice. "Whatever you want."
Eddie's irritation was quickly giving way to something else entirely, because his idea hadn't worked like he thought it would. Not in the least. "But it's your welcome home dinner."
"You know what I like."
"Yeah," Eddie said around a breath that he hoped wouldn't betray his emotion.
"All right." More silence. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Eddie had been on the verge of hanging up his phone then and there, but he didn't. He thought back to the night he and Richie spent in the hotel room in New York after they'd moved everything out of Eddie's house. The way he and Richie hadn't cuddled in bed that night like they usually did, and how they'd both felt completely lost because of it. They'd both promised to each other the next morning that they'd never go to bed like that again, so Eddie forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Rich," he said quietly, not even sure if he'd be successful in getting Richie to open up to him right now. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," Richie said, but his reply was too fast, too upbeat after the heavy words they'd just exchanged. "I'm just tired. And ready to come home and for this godforsaken tour to be over."
Eddie smiled somberly, because he wanted nothing more – for Richie to be in his arms instead of five hundred miles away. To be able to talk things through with Richie instead of having them hanging in the air over them like a dark cloud all night.
"Me too," Eddie agreed. He didn't push any further, because he thought that this conversation would be much more successful in person. Eddie paused then for a very long time, waiting to see if Richie would say it first.
"I love you."
Letting out a soft breath of contentment, Eddie said, "I love you."
It certainly didn't even begin to fix things, but it made him feel marginally better. Eddie knew deep down that Richie wouldn't say those words unless he meant them with every fiber of his being, so at least this wasn't a problem between them. It was probably just what Richie had said – he was tired and ready for this stupid charade to be over so that he could work on getting his career on the path he wanted.
"Night," Richie said. Then he repeated, "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Sleep well."
Eddie set his phone down and laid there, not bothering to send Richie another text message before he fell asleep like he normally did. Eddie only stared up at the darkened ceiling above him. The moonlight was playing off of the ocean waves outside, throwing little speckles of light dancing across the room. It was normally one of Eddie's favorite things about his new home (other than being with Richie, of course), but tonight, it did fuck all to comfort him.
To be continued…
Author's note: I wasn't thinking at the time that I'd ever have a scene with both James and Jason together, because James was just a throwaway character way back when, but Jesus. Why'd I have to pick such a similar-sounding name with the same amount of letters? I had to keep stopping and thinking about which one was talking.
