The Space Between Us
Chapter 4 – Torn
Eddie was torn. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to go home, shower, and change out of his godawful blood-stained suit. Richie's blood. At the same time, however, Eddie really didn't want to leave Richie at the hospital. A part of him was scared to death that the moment he left, something horrible would happen to Richie; his heart might stop, or he'd quit breathing, and he would die while Eddie went home to do something as stupid as change clothes.
It was almost like Eddie felt his presence there was the only thing keeping Richie alive, which wasn't true, of course. The doctors reassured Eddie that Richie was perfectly stable, and there honestly wasn't anything left to do except wait. Going home for an hour or two wouldn't change that.
Only once the doctors promised to let Eddie know if there were any changes to Richie's condition did Eddie consent to letting Bill take him home. At first, Eddie wanted Bill to stay at the hospital, if only so Richie would have at least one friend present. So he wouldn't be alone if the unthinkable happened. Eddie insisted that he was okay with calling an Uber, but Bill seemed vehemently against Eddie returning home alone.
"You had an in-intruder in your home!" Bill exclaimed, while Eddie paced around the waiting room. "I'm sure they won't return, but I'd rather come with you and make sure everything's safe there."
Eddie paused in his steps, turning around to face Bill fully. "If you're trying to calm my nerves, it isn't helping," Eddie muttered.
"Sorry," Bill told him. "I just want to make sure you're safe. And…from what you said, there's a mess to clean up. I don't want you to have to do that alone."
Eddie stared down at his hands where he was gripping his stupid spaghetti tie again. He suddenly didn't want to let it go and thought he would probably still be holding it when they returned to the hospital, almost like it was a lifeline. Like if he let it go, something horrible would happen to Richie. Which was stupid. All of these thoughts were stupid, thinking if he did or did not do one meaningless little thing, then Richie would die, that he would lose his husband forever, but Eddie couldn't help it.
"Maybe you're right," Eddie finally admitted, not taking his eyes off of his tie. The more he thought about it, he realized that he really didn't want to go home alone to the massive pool of Richie's blood on the floor of their home. Didn't want to face that alone. He desperately needed Bill by his side through this, and that was why he had called him in the first place.
By the time Bill pulled up in Eddie and Richie's driveway, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning, and Eddie knew it was going to be a very long time before he slept again. In fact, it would be a very long time before he even felt like sleeping.
When Eddie ascended the porch steps towards his front door, he was very grateful for Bill's presence. A burning sensation rose in Eddie's throat as he was reminded of the last time he came home, only to find his entire world broken and shattered, perhaps beyond repair. When he came home to find Richie in a pool of his own blood.
And it was there, Richie's blood, somehow even more horrifying and sickening than when he had left it the first time. Maybe it was because Eddie now knew the extent of Richie's physical injuries, and all that was left was a giant question mark above his head, wondering if Richie would ever come back to him the way he used to be.
The blood had been left to begin congealing and drying on their hardwood floor, and Eddie wondered if the stain would even come out now. As it turned out, it was probably a good idea that Eddie had returned home now, because if left for any longer, that shit was surely never coming out.
Eddie shut his eyes against the sight in front of him, containing the urge to throw up this contents of his stomach, which wouldn't be much of anything; the last time he had eaten had been his late lunch that day which had consisted of a salad with grilled chicken.
"Don't look at it," Bill told him, making sure the front door was locked behind them. He placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder, attempting to push him down the hallway past the bloodstain. "You go get showered and changed. I'll clean this up."
Eddie, however, wouldn't budge. He turned around, staring down at his briefcase and the takeout bag which he'd dropped near the door, along with the piece of splintered wood from the broken deadbolt. "I'll need to call a locksmith too," Eddie muttered, stooping down to pick up the wood and bag of Mexican food. "And I need to make sure they didn't take Richie's keys or wallet. If they did, I'll need to cancel his credit and debit cards-"
"Eddie," Bill interrupted, reaching for Eddie's hands. He took the takeout bag, still trying to steer Eddie down the hall. "Please go get cleaned up, and I'll take care of this."
A sob escaped from Eddie, and he pressed the back of his hand over his mouth in an effort to quell them. He didn't even know what he had done to deserve such fucking awesome friends, but Eddie didn't even need to ask; here was Bill, offering to get this devastating scene in front of them cleaned up, and telling Eddie not to worry about it. Not to worry about this mess of blood in his own home.
"Bill…"
"Don't worry about it," Bill immediately cut him off. "Losers stick together."
Taking a shaking breath, Eddie could only smile at Bill in appreciation. His throat was currently too tightly to speak, but Bill seemed to understand.
Bill squeezed Eddie's shoulder before asking, "Do you want this takeout?"
Eddie shook his head wildly, feeling his stomach clench again. "It's been sitting out too long. And I was buying it when Richie was probably-" Eddie stopped short, not wanting to finish his thoughts. Even though they still hung there in his brain like a dark and heavy cloud. "I…bought it for Richie. He wanted Mexican," Eddie said instead, and he didn't know why.
"He'll be okay," Bill said, wrapping his arm around Eddie's shoulders instead. "And the quicker you go get cleaned up, the sooner we'll be back at the hospital."
Still, words escaped Eddie, so he ended up following Bill's wishes instead, because he didn't know what else to do. Closing his eyes against the pool of Richie's blood in the hallway, Eddie skirted around it as he headed through the kitchen towards their bedroom. However, once he got there, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to be there either.
Actually, he just wanted to be back at the hospital with Richie, holding his hand and making sure he was okay.
"Fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath. "Bill?" he shouted back down the hall.
"Yeah?"
"Can you come in here please?"
A few seconds later, Bill's footsteps echoed down the hallway as he approached the bedroom. He began to say something, perhaps to ask what Eddie needed, but then his own voice died in his throat when he took in the scene in front of him.
The entire room had been ransacked. The dresser drawers had been pulled out and turned over, Eddie's and Richie's clothes strewn across the floor. The same had been done to the closet, leaving only a few garments still left on their hangers. Even the sheets on the bed had been pulled away, and the mattress was off-center, one corner of it hanging over the box spring towards the floor.
"The fuck?" Bill asked.
"I don't know!" Eddie cried. He gripped his hair in his hands, turning around in the center of the room, looking around at piles of clothing at his feet. "I didn't – why the fuck didn't I notice this when I found him? I came in here to get some gauze for his head! Why didn't I see this?"
"You were a bit preoccupied?" Bill offered. "F-finding him like that must have been a shock to say the least."
"Fuck," Eddie said again, still staring down at the scene in front of him. At the fucking disaster that had been made out of their bedroom. Out of their sanctuary. It was by far their favorite room in the house, where they had spent so many days and nights over the last year expressing their love for each other. Where they had just made love only eighteen hours before, and now…
It was wrong. Dirty. Sullied.
"How am I supposed to figure out if anything was taken?" Eddie asked frantically. "This is such a mess. It'll take ages to clean up, much less sort through it and even remember what all should be here."
"Did you have anything valuable in here?" Bill asked, beginning to pick up a few of the shirts from the floor and place them on the bed.
"We didn't have anything," Eddie told him. "You know that other than our cars, Richie and I don't like anything flashy."
"I know," Bill sighed, continuing to try and make a dent in picking up the room.
"Jesus, they were in here, Bill!" Eddie's hands were still in his hair, and he had to make a conscious effort to not want to pull it out by the roots. "They were in our house! They were in our bedroom! I mean, the hallway is one fucking thing, but how dare they come into our bedroom?"
Eddie didn't know why he took it as a personal attack that a stranger would dare to come into his bedroom of all things, but this was supposed to be a private room. One reserved for himself and his husband, and maybe a few friends here and there whenever they dropped by. Strangers certainly weren't supposed to be in here. Not in his house and not in his bedroom of all things.
"I need to throw all of this in the wash," Eddie mumbled, mostly thinking out loud. "They were touching our clothes! They touched our bed!"
"And we'll do that," Bill said. He came up behind Eddie, placing his hands on Eddie's shoulders and squeezing them firmly. "I'm going to get the hallway cleaned up, and then we can get started on a load of laundry before we head back to the hospital. Okay?"
"Oh, Jesus, Bill," Eddie sobbed out, leaning heavily into Bill's touch. It was then that a horrible thought occurred to Eddie, and he asked, "Do you think they were looking for something?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know!" Eddie tried very hard not to start sobbing, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could contain it. He could feel the cries starting to bubble up inside him, and it felt like they would begin spilling out at any moment. "I mean, Richie being famous and…I don't know! We're not even going to know who this asshole was until Richie wakes up, and even then, he might not remember! They might never catch this asshole! They'll be out there and…I don't know!"
That was all Eddie had been saying since this ordeal had begun – 'I don't know' – and he didn't. He didn't know if he'd ever fully comprehend how or why anyone would do this to his husband. Richie, who had never hurt anyone. Except maybe for Henry Bowers and that fucking space clown.
Sighing heavily, Bill pulled Eddie into a hug. He placed one hand on the back of Eddie's head and kept running the other over Eddie's back in an attempt to calm him. Eddie choked out another sob, but he wouldn't allow himself to break down. He wouldn't. At least, not just yet. He pulled away from Bill, because he needed to find a safe place to have his breakdown in peace.
Eddie didn't even want to put on any of the clothes that the asshole had touched, at least not without washing it first. In the end, Eddie found a t-shirt and blue jeans still sitting in one of the dresser drawers, looking like they were mostly untouched. He picked those up and made his way to the bathroom while Bill went back out to the hallway to begin cleaning up the bloodstain.
Eddie turned the water on hot, like he usually liked it, while he pulled off his dress shirt and dress pants. Only his slacks had blood on them, but he dropped them both on the floor, because he would never be wearing them again. They had way too many horrid memories attached to them now.
Stepping into the shower, Eddie froze, not beginning to wash right away. He simply let the water run over him, watching the bloodstains on his knees begin trickling down his legs and disappear down the drain. Jesus. Richie's blood had burrowed underneath his clothes and was living on his skin.
The thought made Eddie feel sick all over again. He gasped in a breath which quickly turned to another sob. He pressed his hand over his mouth in attempt to stop them, but for all the good it did. He had spent far too long trying to push down his cries over the last few hours, and now they were exploding out of him whether he liked it or not.
Pressing his hands against the wall of the shower in an effort to steady himself, Eddie pounded one of his palms against the tile in frustration. It wasn't fucking fair that he and Richie had already lost so much time together, and now everything they had built for themselves over the last year and a half might be ripped out of their grip altogether.
Eddie's back started heaving with each cry in and out, and he hunched over, letting the cries come. As he did so, he could still see the remnants of Richie's blood swirling around the drain along with his own tears as they dripped down to join the stains of crimson.
While Eddie had been in the shower, Bill had gathered up a bunch of the clothes in the bedroom and threw them in the washing machine. He was just turning it on in the utility closet in the hallway as Eddie made his way out of the bedroom.
"Feel better?" Bill asked.
Eddie's face was red and swollen from the time he had spent crying in the shower, so he was pretty sure he didn't look any better. Shrugging, Eddie dried his hair with the towel he was still holding onto. "I don't know."
Emerging into the kitchen and then the hallway, Eddie realized that Bill had somehow gotten the entire bloodstain cleaned up. There was no longer any sign that Richie had been attacked there or that his blood had dripped out all over the place, but Eddie would always know. He didn't think he'd ever be able to unsee that bloodstain or where it had been.
"Hey," Bill said, "I found Richie's wallet and keys by the door, so they weren't stolen. You'll still have to call a locksmith to fix the lock, but at least his cards are safe."
Not that Eddie really even care about Richie's cards. He supposed it was good that they hadn't been stolen and he had one less thing to worry about, but nothing mattered except Richie. He only wanted Richie to be safe, and he wasn't sure if he would be.
"Did the hospital call?" Eddie asked, because all he needed to know was that Richie was still okay.
Bill shook his head. "No, no word, so Richie's still okay."
Eddie gave the living room, the den, the kitchen, and the guest bedroom a quick onceover, but they didn't appear to be disturbed at all. If someone broke in, wouldn't it likely be for financial gain? But they didn't take Richie's wallet (which had nearly one hundred dollars in it along with his bank cards), or any of their more expensive items, including their televisions, Blu-ray player, PlayStation, and Richie's laptop. Eddie was more confused than ever, because whoever had broken in had searched the fuck out of the bedroom, but it honestly didn't appear as if anything in particular was missing. Moreover, what could they have even been looking for in the bedroom to begin with? This wasn't the olden days when people would store their life savings under the mattress or in their sock drawer. What else could have been hidden in with all their clothes that a burglar would have been after? It didn't make any sense at all.
Seriously, what the fuck?
All Eddie knew was that he was fucking tired and confused, and all he wanted to do was get back to the hospital to see Richie. Being at home where all this shit had happened in the first place was taking a toll on him, and Eddie didn't think he could keep looking at that spot on the floor where Richie had bled out. Try as he might, his eyes inevitably kept going back to the area on the floor where Richie's blood had been. If he looked at it one more time, Eddie was certain that he was going to lose his mind, so he asked Bill if they could go back to the hospital.
Eddie wasn't even sure if he was in the right mind to drive, so he just ended up letting Bill drive them again. The last thing Eddie needed was to get into a car accident because he was so frazzled and end up in the hospital along with Richie.
The next three days dragged on a snail's pace. Eddie spent as much time as he could at Richie's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him. The nurses asked him to leave more than once so that Richie could get some rest, and it was really grating on Eddie's nerves. He wasn't even doing anything to disturb Richie, and if anything, he knew that Richie would benefit from his presence. If these nurses were at all familiar with Richie and Eddie's nearly lifelong friendship and subsequent romance, they would know that!
However, it seemed like the nurses eventually gave up, because Eddie kept returning to Richie's room whether they wanted him to or not. They would stare at Eddie sideways before simply going about their business and checking Richie's vitals before leaving them both in peace. And that was the way Eddie liked it.
Since Richie's condition was currently stable, Mike, Ben, and Bev were waiting on further word as to Richie's recovery. Once he woke up and they had a better idea of how much healing Richie would have to do, they'd make arrangements to come to LA if need be. On the other hand, Bill never left Eddie's side, and Eddie was fucking grateful for that. He even asked Bill more than once if he needed to get back to work or even go home to take care of some things, but Bill always told him that he and Richie were more important. Next to Audra, the Losers were more important to him than anything else in the world.
Bill made sure that Eddie ate (even though it was never much, because Eddie didn't have much of an appetite) and got some sleep. Even when Eddie didn't want to sleep, Bill sometimes made him try and take a nap in the waiting room, while Bill took up the vigil at Richie's bedside. Eddie only ever dozed off here and there, because the waiting room was a shit place to sleep, and he was too on edge to even relax properly anyway.
Even so, Eddie didn't think he'd ever be able to repay Bill for trying to take care of him through all of this.
After three days (and honestly, it felt a lot longer than that to Eddie), the doctors told Eddie that the bleeding in Richie's brain had stopped and the swelling had gone down as well. They would begin to taper him off the sedatives he'd been on, but it would probably still be another day or two before Richie awoke.
Eddie became a permanent fixture at Richie's bedside after that. He wouldn't even leave if Bill tried to get him to rest for a while, because Eddie was going to be there when Richie woke up, damnit!
It was nearing the end of the fourth day without any response from Richie, and Eddie was fucking beat. He'd been at Richie's bedside the entire day, still holding his hand and talking to him. But his exhaustion had started to catch up to him, and he'd dozed off at some point.
Eddie was sitting in a bedside chair, and he'd rested his head on Richie's bed at some point. He was still holding onto Richie's hand, and he only intended to rest his eyes for a moment before sleep had claimed him completely.
The next thing Eddie knew, he felt Richie's hand stir in his. This nearly made Eddie jump up out of his seat, and he was suddenly wide awake. He moved to the edge of his seat, his breathing coming in fast and heavy gasps.
"Richie?" Eddie asked quietly, not wanting to startle Richie too much if he finally was coming around.
Richie's head moved to the side, towards Eddie's direction, and this made Eddie's heart leap up into his throat. Oh shit, Richie was waking up, and Eddie felt excited and terrified all at once. Maybe Richie would be perfectly fine, and Eddie would have his husband back again. At the same time, he was scared to death that something would be seriously wrong with Richie, that he'd have some horrible brain damage and that he might even be able function anymore.
As it turned out, it was much worse than that.
Richie groaned, a sound of pain that made Eddie's heart hurt. He squeezed Richie's hand, wondering if he should call for a doctor. In the end, though, Eddie just wanted to spend Richie's first moments of consciousness in four days alone with him, and then Eddie would get the attention of the medical staff.
Maybe, god, maybe everything would still be okay. Richie would wake up, make a stupid joke, and Eddie would know that his Richie was still there. But no, that wasn't what was meant to be at all.
"I'm here, Rich," Eddie said, using his other hand to rub gently at Richie's forearm. "Everything's okay."
Richie opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but no sound came out. He closed it and opened it again several more times, like he was trying to get some moisture back in it; he hadn't had anything to eat or drink by mouth in four days, so of course he was going to be thirsty.
When Richie groaned again, he squirmed a bit in his bed before stopping and squinting his eyes even more tightly closed. Eddie almost thought he had fallen back asleep, but then his eyes cracked open the tiniest bit. They were glassy and bloodshot as fuck, almost like he was waking up from a drunken stupor. The doctor had already reassured Eddie, however, that the bruising around his eyes would go down now that the bleeding in his brain had stopped; Eddie assumed that that went for the redness in them as well.
Richie stuck out his tongue, using it to try and wet his lips, running it over them repeatedly. He stared up at the ceiling like he didn't know where he was or what was going on.
"Richie?" Eddie asked again, still quiet in his tone.
This caused Richie to look towards Eddie, his eyes only still half-open and unseeing. Richie didn't even have his glasses on, so he wouldn't even be able to tell what he was looking at anyway. Eddie still had Richie's glasses in his pocket, but he would worry about giving them to Richie once he was sure that Richie knew what the fuck was happening. He had enough to process right now without Eddie trying to put stuff on his face.
Richie blinked several times in Eddie's general direction, but he still looked completely confused and disoriented.
"It's all right," Eddie said, giving Richie's hand a tight squeeze. "I'm here."
Richie frowned then, closing his eyes again. Eddie wasn't sure whether he had gone back to sleep again or not, but then his eyes opened once more.
"Eddie?" Richie moaned out.
Oh god. Richie sounded like he was in ridiculous amounts of pain, but it was still one of the best things Richie had ever said to him, bar none. Eddie was still pretty sure that Richie couldn't see shit, so that meant that Richie had to recognize Eddie's voice! Richie still knew who he was!
"Yeah," Eddie said around several relieved gasps of air. He was grinning and tears began springing up in his eyes, although it was now for a very different reason than before. "Yeah, man, it's me. I'm here."
"Why?" Richie asked, turning his head to stare up at ceiling again. "Am I dreaming?"
Eddie was a little caught off guard by Richie's questions at first, but Richie probably just didn't realize he was in the hospital. He most likely couldn't even remember what had happened to him, so of course he was asking why Eddie was even there and if this was real at all.
"What are you doing here?" Richie asked, and he sounded confused as fuck.
Eddie let out a nervous laugh, because something horrible was suddenly nagging at the back of his mind. "No, you're not dreaming, but…what do you mean? Where else would I be?"
"Home?"
Eddie wasn't sure if he should tell Richie what had happened, so he just said, "You're in the hospital." Richie's head turned towards him sharply, and Eddie quickly added, "You're fine. You're going to be perfectly fine, but I came to see you. I…was worried."
Richie blinked at him and then took a moment to look around the room. Not that it would do any good, because again, Richie didn't have his glasses, but he was apparently trying to assess his surroundings nonetheless. "How?"
"What do you mean?" Eddie asked again, still trying to keep his voice calm. Richie was just confused about what happened and he'd be fine once everything was explained to him. Eddie was sure of it. "How what?"
"How did you…Who called you?"
"No-nobody called me," Eddie replied. His throat almost felt too tight to speak, but Eddie pushed on, forcing it out anyway. "I…I came home, and…I was the one who called 911. I…I found you."
A strange expression passed over Richie's features. Part of it was complete and total confusion, Eddie was sure, but then Richie looked weirdly amused at the same time. He smiled in a lopsided kind of way, and he actually looked drunk as fuck. Eddie supposed that that wasn't very far off, considering the amount of pain meds and sedatives they had him on. Richie giggled, and that was when Eddie was sure that he wasn't currently firing on all eight cylinders anymore.
"What were you doing in my home?" Richie said. "Kind of weird."
Eddie's heart might have stopped in that moment. Oh dear god, Richie didn't even remember they lived together? The fuck? What in hell else didn't Richie know? Although Eddie really, really didn't want the answer to that question anymore.
"I…we live together," Eddie whispered, feeling embarrassed and small.
Richie only stared at him like Eddie was speaking in Greek or something.
"I'm, um…I'm going to call the doctor," Eddie said, leaping up from his seat, because he was sure if he sat there and tried to talk to Richie anymore, he was going to lose his mind. "They…they wanted to know when you woke up anyway."
Eddie heard Richie mumbling something, apparently trying to make sense out of all the madness going on around him, but Eddie didn't give him a chance to get it all out. Eddie almost ran from the room and down to the nurses' station, scared to death about what more Richie would say. About what more Richie could have forgotten.
It was a few minutes later before Doctor Reddy finally joined them, and by that time, Richie had fallen back asleep again. The doctor approached Richie's bed, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Richie's arm.
"Mr. Tozier?" she asked quietly.
"Richie," Eddie corrected, standing back near the door. He was terrified to approach Richie's bed, and he was even more scared about what else Richie could say to him. Wrapping his arms around himself tightly, Eddie added, "He hates being reminded that he's old enough to be called 'Mr. Tozier.'"
"Richie?" the doctor corrected. "Can you hear me?"
Stirring, Richie groaned again. "M' head hurts." His eyes were still closed, like he didn't want to answer anymore questions and just wanted to sleep.
"I know," the doctor said, making a note on the clipboard she had with her. "We'll get you something for that. But can you tell me where you are?"
Richie licked his lips again before he said, "Hospital."
"That's right," Doctor Reddy said. "And can you tell me who this is?"
It took a few seconds before Richie opened his eyes again to see where the doctor was pointing. For all the good it did, because Eddie was still across the room by the door, and Eddie knew Richie couldn't see that far without his glasses.
"Am I taking an eye exam?" Richie asked, squinting in Eddie's direction. "'Cause no, I can't see shit right now. You're going to have to give me my glasses if you want an honest answer to that question."
It was perhaps the most Richie thing he had said since he had woken up, and it gave Eddie the tiniest bit of hope. Richie may be a bit confused and disoriented right now, but his dumbass wisecracking husband was at least still in there somewhere.
"I have your glasses," Eddie said. He stepped forward, withdrawing Richie's glasses from his pocket as he went. He quickly placed them on Richie's nose before he stepped away, almost like he'd been burned, because he wasn't sure if his gesture had been okay or not; maybe Richie would want to put his own glasses on right now.
But then Richie straightened his glasses, and that was perhaps one of the cutest things that Richie ever did. The way Richie grabbed the stem and wiggled them around until they sat properly on his nose was so adorable to Eddie for some reason, it made him want to kiss the shit out of him. Almost.
"Eddie," Richie said. "My bestie. Not sure what he's doing here though. Haven't seen him in…since we were kids."
Eddie's heart hurt at those words, because apparently, the last time Richie remembered having had any sort of contact with him was when they were kids. Richie no longer referred to Eddie as his husband, or his fiancé, or even his boyfriend. Eddie was just his 'bestie'. Frowning deeply, Eddie tried not to burst into tears again, because he'd done enough crying as it was over the last four days. Not to mention, he didn't want to scare Richie or make him even more confused than he already was; Richie had enough to worry about right now without wondering why Eddie was so upset.
"Do you know who the president is?" the doctor asked next.
"Yeah," Richie said, but then he stopped, looking completely lost. "That, um…what's his face? The dude from Hawaii." Richie giggled again, but then his expression immediately turned serious. "I always wanted to go to Hawaii."
Eddie shared a worried expression with the doctor, because Obama hasn't been president for well over a year. At the same time, however, trust Richie to remember random ass information like where Obama had been born of all things. Even when he wasn't completely sure what the fuck was going on, Richie was somehow still Richie.
His Richie.
His Richie was still in there somewhere, and that was what Eddie had to keep telling himself.
"Do you know what year it is?" Doctor Reddy asked him.
"Um," Richie mumbled, frowning in thought. "Is it 2016?" He glanced at Eddie and said, "Yeah, 2016, I think."
Eddie wrapped his arms around himself again, because no, it wasn't. They were nearly three months into 2018, so something was very deeply wrong with Richie's memory.
Making another note on her clipboard, the doctor asked, "Do you remember what happened to you?"
Richie shook his head, still staring at Eddie like Richie was waiting for him to help him fill in the blanks.
"What's the very last thing you can remember before waking up here, Richie?" she asked.
Richie continued to shake his head in confusion, but then all at once, Richie's expression morphed into one of complete and utter terror. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Oh," Richie murmured, not taking his eyes off Eddie. "Did…did we have to fight the clown again? We did, didn't we? That's why you're here, isn't it? Is that what happened to me? Did Pennywise bash my head in or something?" Richie laughed again, and why in god's name was he laughing at things that weren't funny?
Eddie hugged himself even more tightly, sliding his left hand underneath his right bicep. Richie was probably too confused to even notice much less wonder why Eddie was wearing a wedding ring (along with a matching one on his index finger), but he didn't want to risk any of the barrage of questions from Richie that might follow.
Eddie looked to the doctor next, at a complete loss for words. The doctor appeared just as confused, but why wouldn't she? Richie was babbling on about the fucking clown that they had already killed, so the doctor might have been wondering if Richie had lost his goddamn mind entirely. Not only that, but Richie couldn't even remember something Eddie had told him two minutes previously – that Richie had been at home, their home when this had happened to him.
"It's…um," Eddie explained to the doctor, pressing his right hand over his face, "it's an inside joke – about the clown." He also hoped that Richie would get the hint and stop talking about fucking It.
"Yeah," Richie agreed, although it didn't sound like he was entirely sure what he was even agreeing with. He looked back at the doctor, his head lolling around a bit as he did so. It looked like he was either dizzy or very tired, although it wasn't clear which. "Um…yeah. I don't know though. I don't know the last thing I did." He squinted straight ahead, not looking at either one of them anymore. "I don't know." He sounded lost and far away. Richie looked at Eddie again next and asked, "Are we in Maine? We are if we fought the clown, right? And you brought me to the hospital?"
Oh, Jesus Christ. If Richie couldn't even remember enough to know not to go on about the fucking clown in front of the doctor, Eddie was really concerned for Richie's state of mind.
When he didn't get any sort of response from Eddie, Richie shifted uncomfortably in the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. "I don't know though! I don't fucking remember if we did or not! I don't even remember how I found out about the clown again!" When his hand fell away from his head, his eyes were large and round. "Unless…did I fall over the balcony? Is that what happened?"
Eddie shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand. His reaction wasn't entirely in response to Richie, but simply his own confusion about everything that was happening. Eddie didn't even know what Richie meant about falling over the balcony. What balcony was he even talking about? They didn't have one at their current house, nor did Richie have one at his old apartment.
"Richie?" the doctor said, laying her hand over Richie's arm again. "Listen to me. You hit your head and you're a little bit confused right now-"
"HOW?" Richie demanded. "How did I hit my head?" Richie brought his hands up to his head again, placing his palms over his temples this time, either like he was in immense pain or trying very hard to remember something. Perhaps it was both.
"Richie?" the doctor asked again. "We're going to get you something for your head, okay? Until we do that, why don't you lie down and close your eyes for a little while? That will help with the pain and how about some water? I bet you're thirsty."
Richie had been on an IV and feeding tube for four days! Eddie wanted to tell the doctor that of course he was thirsty, but he didn't think that would be prudent right now. Eddie kept his hand over his mouth, turning to stare out the door and into the hallway. A tiny part of him wanted to run away. As desperately as he'd been to stay by Richie's bedside over the last few days, it suddenly felt too stifling in there now. Eddie felt just as lost as Richie, maybe even more so, not even having the first clue where his husband's mind was at.
"Yeah," Richie moaned, relaxing his head back against the pillows. "I am." He looked at Eddie one last time, frowning deeply before he closed his eyes.
Eddie wasn't even sure if he had fallen back asleep or not yet, but the doctor motioned for Eddie to follow her out into the hall. He went, but then he felt torn, like he shouldn't leave Richie alone in his current state. A moment before, Eddie wanted to run, and now he wanted to stay. Eddie contained the urge to laugh a little bit hysterically, because Jesus Christ, he wasn't even sure if he was coming or going anymore.
"Okay," Eddie reiterated as soon as they were out of earshot, "the clown is an inside joke. I don't know why he keeps talking about it, but…he isn't crazy." But then Eddie swallowed, because he didn't know how else to describe Richie's behavior. "Not about that, at least."
"That's good to know," Doctor Reddy said, writing down something else on her clipboard. "All in all though, he generally seems to be okay."
Eddie scoffed, whirling around to face the doctor and waving his arms like a lunatic. "'Okay'? Are you fucking kidding me? He doesn't know what the fuck is going on! He doesn't even know which way is up!" Eddie wasn't sure why he was suddenly screaming and swearing at the doctor; he knew that none of this was her fault, but Eddie couldn't quite help it. He was confused himself and stressed out beyond belief. If he had his inhaler with him, he'd be using it up the ass just for the comfort that it provided him.
"He's experiencing some confusion," the doctor agreed, nodding, "but his speech itself and his physical coordination don't seem to be affected. That's actually very hopeful, because like I told you, he could have experienced any multitude of physical or mental disabilities as a result of his injury. As it is, he only seems to have some memory loss."
"'Some memory loss'?" Eddie asked incredulously. He scoffed again, because what the fuck was wrong with this doctor? Richie very clearly didn't even remember that they were married, didn't think they'd talked since they were kids, so this was a big goddamn deal! "He thinks it's 2016! Newsflash, doc. It's 2018!"
Eddie still wasn't sure why he was taking all of this out on the doctor, but he supposed it was because she was there. There was no one else to rage at right now, and Eddie felt like he had reached the end of his rope. Seriously, if Eddie ever got his hands on the monster that had done this to his husband, Eddie would likely be in jail for murder.
"Which isn't entirely unexpected," the doctor replied, writing yet something else on that stupid clipboard of hers. "In many cases like this, the memory loss isn't even permanent. He will most likely start remember things as time goes on, and if he doesn't…two years isn't a long time all things considered. Believe me, the lookout could have been so much worse than it is."
Eddie pressed his hands over his eyes, because he couldn't even look at the doctor anymore. Two years may not have been that long in the grand scheme of things, but to him and Richie, it may as well have been everything. He didn't remember marrying Eddie. He didn't even remember their confession of love and first kiss on the cliff above the quarry while everyone else swam in the filthy down below.
"I am not fucking going down there!" Eddie bit out, pointing his finger towards the edge of the cliff. The four other Losers were already down in the water, splashing around and chatting away happily about something. "Jesus fucking Christ, do you know what's down there?"
"You weren't all that concerned about it when we were children," Richie pointed out, toeing off his shoes and pulling off his yellow button-down shirt.
"You're not fucking going down there either!" Eddie snapped, grabbing onto Richie's t-shirt and pulling him away from the cliff. "I will never fucking forgive you! Do you have any idea how much more dangerous a staph infection can be to people our age?"
"Dude," Richie said nonchalantly, trying to pull out of Eddie's grasp, "we were just down in the fucking sewer. It's not like washing ourselves off in dirty water is going to make much of a difference."
"Jesus Christ, Rich!" Eddie yanked on Richie's t-shirt again, pulling him back even more sharply this time. When Richie was facing him, Eddie added his other hand to the front of Richie shirt, shaking him slightly. "Don't even think about it," he bit out. "There's plenty of
clean water back at the inn where we can bathe ourselves properly."
Richie blinked at him, because Eddie was standing ridiculously close to him. Eddie was on his tiptoes, their noses only a few inches apart. Richie had been about to say something, but he could no longer remember what it was.
"Know what?" Eddie asked.
"What?"
"I promised myself when we were down in the sewer, that I'd just fucking do this if we both made it out safely."
"Do what?"
And then it happened all at once. Eddie leaned forward, straining up towards Richie as he pulled Richie down towards him. Fisting his hands in the front of Richie's shirt, Eddie kissed Richie fiercely. Richie felt like his brain was flailing around for any sort of words, anything to express what in the world he was feeling, but his mind was blank. Completely blank, except for words like 'Eddie', and 'kiss', and 'shit' floating around in there somewhere. And then it clicked somewhere in his mind, because holy shit. He was kissing Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. Or better yet, Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was kissing him.
All too soon, Eddie pulled away and that one glorious moment that Richie had been hoping and praying for all his life was over as quickly as it had begun. Eddie was staring at him, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open, and then doubt seemed to flash across his eyes. Eddie began to turn away, but Richie certainly couldn't have that. Couldn't let Eddie think, even for a moment, that Richie didn't want this too. Didn't hunger for this every day of his life for the last twenty-seven years.
He reached out for Eddie's arm, pulling Eddie back to face him before he returned the gesture. Richie leaned down to Eddie's height, kissing Eddie back. Where Eddie's kiss had been desperate and needy, however, Richie kissed Eddie so slowly and tenderly, like Eddie might disappear if he did it any harder. It was probably the softest thing Richie had ever done in his life, he decided.
But then that kiss was over too, and Richie wanted to scream, because he didn't want it to be. Not fucking yet, because he and Eddie had way too much time to make up for. In fact, Richie kind of wanted to stand there all afternoon, making out with Eddie as the sun dried the sewer water on their clothes.
Romantic.
Eddie was breathing hard now, still staring at Richie like he didn't know what the hell was happening. Like he didn't know what was going on in Richie's mind, even though Richie didn't think he'd left any doubt as to his thought process right now.
"What took you so long?" Richie asked, feeling himself grinning like an absolute lunatic. "I've wanted you to do that forever."
"Yeah?" Eddie asked uncertainly, focusing on Richie's t-shirt now, like he was having difficulty meeting Richie's eyes.
"Yeah," Richie said. He reached up with his free hand, using his thumb and forefinger to direct Eddie's chin upwards. When Eddie met his eyes again, Richie said, "I've loved you since we were thirteen."
A grin broke out over Eddie's features, but then he fastened his teeth over his lower lip in an attempt to stop it. His eyes were dancing with excitement, and Richie didn't think he had ever seen Eddie look so positively exuberant in his life. It was like he might combust from it all.
"What took you so long?" Eddie asked. "I've wanted to you tell me that forever." He paused, searching Richie's eyes like he was still checking to make sure that Richie wanted this as much as he did. Finally, Eddie said, "I love you. Always have, always will," he added before diving back in to kiss Richie once more.
Gone. All of that was gone from Richie's mind, and that was pretty fucking significant! Eddie looked down at his and Richie's wedding bands on his hand, running his thumb over them like that might somehow make everything better. Tears were stinging at his eyes again, and he tried as hard as he could to hold them in, but he didn't feel like he had the strength to anymore.
"Listen," the doctor said, "let's let him rest for a little while. That was obviously very taxing and upsetting for him, and sleep will help him a lot right now. We'll get him some more pain meds and some water, and then we can try talking to him again. If he doesn't seem too agitated, we can try explaining exactly what happened to him, and then maybe he won't be so confused."
Eddie wanted to ask the doctor how she could be so calm, but he supposed she was used to this sort of thing by now. Besides, it wasn't like Richie was her husband. She hadn't come home to find the love of her life in a pool of his own blood on the floor only to wake up with absolutely no clue who he was even married to.
"Can…can we not tell him I'm his husband just yet?" Eddie asked, even though he wasn't sure where his question was even stemming from.
"Try and understand," Doctor Reddy explained, "it's going to help if you surround him with familiar things and remind him of things he might not remember just yet. It may help to stir his memories a little bit."
"I just…" Eddie broke off, turning away from her and putting his hands on his hips. He stared down at the floor before he said, "It's the principle of the thing, I guess. I'd…feel better if he remembered on his own."
"That makes sense," the doctor agreed. "But in the meantime, why don't you go get something to eat, and by then, Richie might be awake and we can try again."
Eddie nodded as she passed him, and he watched her back retreat down the hall. What the doctor said made sense too, but at the same time, Eddie stood by what he said. All he could think about was how he would feel if he woke up in the hospital with absolutely no memory of how he got there. How would he react if Richie told him they were married and Eddie couldn't remember it? Couldn't remember ever admitting his love to Richie or kissing him down by the quarry? What if his entire romantic relationship with Richie was wiped from his memory and he wasn't sure if he'd ever remember it or not?
He'd feel like absolute shit for forgetting his husband. That was all there was to it, and he wasn't going to put Richie through that. He loved Richie more than anything in the world, and Eddie would never purposely put that kind of stress or pressure on him.
Eddie wouldn't do that to him. Not now, not ever, and Eddie didn't care if it killed him in the process. Richie was the love of his life; Eddie would take all the heartache and more if it meant protecting Richie from feeling like the worst husband in the world. Because he wasn't. Maybe Eddie was for not being there to protect his husband from this in the first place, but Richie wasn't. Never Richie.
To be continued…