how do i look to you? ; closed

[badimpression]

Who: Richie & Eddie
Where: Abandoned spheres
What: post dragon encounter shenanigans
When: 05/27
Warnings: blood + injury

[Alright, so this isn't his brightest moment.

In Richie's defense, despite everything that had happened since he'd arrived here, all of the consequences he's faced thus far have been mental. Social. Even the shit that happened to his creepy doppelganger hadn't transferred over to Richie as anything but a detached sort of memory.

He was hardly thinking about the possibility of any physical danger when he pestered Charis for information, or even when he started nosing about the abandoned domes. All he'd been thinking about was how cool it'd be to video call his friends with a dragon standing in the background.

Evidently said dragon isn't interested in getting active on the socials, because the moment Richie had made himself known with a loud, crowing,]

Holy smokes, Puff! [it had turned on him, hissing and clawing and loudly expressing it's displeasure at having an audience.

Richie isn't entirely stupid, he'd booked it within seconds, but her enormous tail had raked down his side as she turned to chase Richie out, and once he was sure she'd retreated back to where she'd been hiding, Rich hadn't been able to take more than a cursory glance at the shredded sleeve and torn skin along his left arm.

It hurts more and more as the adrenaline wears off, and embarrassment settles in it's place. Richie can feel the sting of fabric glued to his injury with blood, and it's enough to make him dizzy- so he does the first thing he thinks of, and staggers his way to the safest place he knows in the outer, abandoned domes: his and Eddie's hideout.

Richie sits there now, curled up against one of the beams that holds up their hammock, numbly holding his bundled up over-shirt over the worst of it, too shocked to even cry. He's still dizzy. It's probably to do with the blood loss, he thinks. Might make it hard to get back to the dorm. And he has no idea how to clean this up, or if it's deep enough for stitches.

He's not panicking though. He's not freaking out at all.]

Comments

[wheezed]

( Sometimes, occasionally, Eddie goes out to their hideout alone. It's not because he doesn't want to be around Richie, far from it, but the reality is they can't spend their days attached at the hip. ( Lord knows they try ) Sometimes, occasionally, Richie wants to explore or Eddie needs to take a breather, or they just want to do different things at different times. Not often, but it happens.

Today, Eddie wants to sit in the hammock and read a comic. He's got a few wedged under his arm and he's picked through the domes carefully, both (rightfully) worried about getting lost and (less realistically) worried about someone following him to their hideout. It's theirs, RichieandEddie's, and he's just protective of that. He's mostly distracted by all of that, and that's why he's a little distracted as he gets to the dome.

Not a lot, just enough that he doesn't hear an unpleasantly familiar wheezing sound until he's already inside. )

Jesus Christ!

( The comics drop. Eddie rushes over quickly, right up until he's a foot away from Richie's side. Maybe less. He can't look at the mess of red all over his arm, so instead Eddie just stares at his face. )

Richie? Shit, it's– what happened? Richie?

[badimpression]

[He's panicked enough at this point, hurting and scared, that Richie doesn't feel any of that earlier embarrassment when Eddie finds him- just a warm rush of relief, so strong that he can't help but beam all bright and wide, even as his eyes are scrunched up in pain and shining with wetness.

But then he hears Eddie's voice, hears all the fear he's feeling mirrored back at him, and the smile crumbles and gives way to those tight, sharp pulls of breath. Richie just shakes his head, not even knowing where to begin.]

I've been- I remember you said once, about keeping pressure, so I tried to.

[wheezed]

( Distantly Eddie knows that he needs to calm down. This isn't the time to have a breakdown or an asthma attack or something, not when there could be anything going on under that shirt and certainly not when Richie is so scared.

Richie has held it together for Eddie's sake so many times. Surely he can do it too. )

You did a great job, that's exactly what you've got to do.

( His smile is a little weak, watery, but he tries anyway. Tries to wind the panic out of his voice, and he thinks he's maybe succeeding. Just a little.

Even looking at Richie's arm makes Eddie's stomach flip, but he reaches out anyway. Hovers his hand near the shirt, but he's not quite touching just yet. )

Can I– is it okay if I take a look? Just to see what it looks like, I don't have to touch it.

[badimpression]

[It's definitely stupid, Richie knows it is, but he can't help but feel a pinprick of pride at the fact that he did the right thing. Hearing Eddie say he did a great job would be a lot nicer if he wasn't bleeding everywhere, obviously.

He tenses up entirely out of reflex when Eddie's hand nears him, already anticipating the sting of pain that's sure to follow when he has to peel his shirt away from the skin, but Richie tries to force himself to relax. To slow his noisy, wheezing gulps of air.]

Okay. Alright, yeah. [And then, as an afterthought, like he can't possibly let the fucking chance slip by:] That's what your mom said.

[wheezed]

( A snort bubbles out before he even realises, Eddie doesn't mean to let it out – but he shouldn't expect any less, really. Not from Richie.

He's not any less focused when he brings his hands closer to the shirt though, and he murmurs a gentle warning under his breath as he finally makes contact with the shirt. )

Just like...just breathe, okay? Big one in, big one out. Like you're getting a shot or something. Alright?

( He waits until Richie follows his instructions, and then as gently as he can starts to peel the shirt away from Richie's arm. It's a struggle to keep his expression composed as he starts to reveal the wound – it looks nasty – and he's certain that he's gone pale. As quick as he looks, he's covering it up again, and finally he swallows.

Takes Richie's hand, pressing it over the wound again and squeezes on top of his fingers. )

Hold onto that. Tight as you can, even if it hurts. We need to keep it nice and tight and look at it again in a few minutes. Got it?

[badimpression]

[Eddie won't have to wait long- as soon as Eddie tells him to slow his breathing, it becomes easier for Richie to focus on just that.

It still does nothing to disguise the low, hurt whining noise he makes when Eddie peels the shirt back, but it does give Richie something else to think about when the action hurts as much as he suspected it would. He watches the blood drain from Eddie's face, and despite everything, Richie laughs.]

What? You don't think [slow breaths-] it's gonna make a cool scar?

[He squeezes down tight, just like Eddie tells him too, and now the tears in his eyes track down Richie's cheeks. It's kind of mortifying, the number of times he's cried in front of Eddie since arriving here.]

Yup. Got it. Aye aye. Si. [His voice is thin and obviously pained, but at least his breathing seems to be successfully slowing.]

[wheezed]

You're so fucking stupid.

( It's entirely too fond for the words he used, and every other time that's happened Eddie has pulled back. Hit out somehow, quickly and usually too sharp, as if it'll distract from the affection in what he says. This time he just leaves it though. Richie doesn't deserve the barbs that Eddie throws to try and get away from anything gentle or soft. Richie deserves tenderness, as best as Eddie can give it.

There's no way of being tender about putting pressure on a wound though, no getting away from the fact that it's going to hurt. Eddie couldn't look long enough to assess just how serious the wound was, but from what he managed to take in it doesn't look great. Maybe not something he can manage on his own, but he doesn't want to freak Richie out even more.

He fixed up Ben's horrible gut wounds well enough, didn't he? And he doesn't think about why this might feel different, why the stakes feel...different, because now's not the time. )

Seriously Rich, you're doing good. You're so brave, I'd be an absolute baby if this happened to me. ( He pauses. ) I'm gonna get my kit. I can clean it up a bit, I bet it won't look so bad after that.

[badimpression]

Stupid keeps stupid company, Eddie my love.

[Even strained, Richie's tone is just as overly affectionate. Managing the pain is eliminating a lot of his focus, and Eddie's voice is so kind, as gentle as as it ever gets.

Between the dizzy thumping of his heart and the warmth that Eddie's sweet words inspires in his heart, Richie really can't be blamed for the next couple of stupid choices he makes.

He reaches out with his good hand, dropping the shirt and the pressure he had on the wound, to reach out and grab Eddie's arm instead, quick as a flash, as soon as Eddie insinuates he would have to leave.]

Huh? No, it's okay. Just stay, I bet you've got band-aids in that fanny pack of yours, right?

[wheezed]

( It's not the first time that Eddie has been guilty of getting a little... distracted by contact from Richie. It's just that the stakes are normally more along the lines of a dropped pencil rather than a bleeding wound.

It's half a second later than he'd like when he responds by clamping his hand down hard on top of the bloody shirt, expression frantic. )

Jesus Richie!

( He's probably squeezing too hard, but he's still not entirely convinced that Richie isn't about to bleed out right here and now, so it's a sacrifice he's willing to make right now.

( Unhelpfully, Eddie is reminded of the time he swore he'd never hurt Richie again. He doesn't have time for that right now. )

His grip does ease up, but only a little, only enough that Richie stops wincing at his touch. )

It's here, okay? Like literally right near the books. I'm not going anywhere, I swear. I'm not gonna leave you here.

[badimpression]

[Richie definitely winces, and his head swims at the painful sensation of Eddie grappling the shirt back into place, but he grins gratefully through it all the same.

Eddie's always looking out for him, huh? It's stupid how fond he feels. He expects the lightheadedness isn't 100% injury related.

His grip on Eddie loosens right up too, once he realizes he's not about to be abandoned.]

Huh. Shoulda figured you'd hoarded a stash here. Little medical supplies dragon.

[I'm not gonna leave you just keeps floating pleasantly through his brain, the most reassuring words Richie's ever heard. He believes him.]

Go forth, Spaghetti. Just not too forth.

[wheezed]

I knew something stupid was gonna happen.

( Amazingly, it's not accusatory - truthfully he's just worried, too worried to chew Richie out for this. It'll come later, probably, when he's got enough distance to realise that Richie isn't about to die. Right now though, he's far too stuck on 'fix, fix, fix' to start nagging.

He's got to...extract himself slightly, just to get said medical kit. It's hard. He doesn't want to leave any more than Richie wants him to, but he's got enough of a clear mind to know that there are priorities right now. )

See, you can still hear me right? I'm gonna be quick as a flash, see.

( He keeps chattering as he scrambles over to grab his things, faster than he's moved in a long time, and in no time at all he's dropping back down unceremoniously right in front of Richie. There's a frantic little moment where he's caught between pulling bandages out and holding the wound again, or getting the shirt off. Finally he just sort of flaps his hands and clasps them together, all but in Richie's lap. )

Can- uh, can you take that off? I can't...it's not anything, I just– I need to bandage your arm.

[badimpression]

Don't you love when I prove you right?

[He can tell what Eddie's doing, the way he's talking to keep Richie calm, and hurrying to get back in his sight, and it's that obvious consideration that moves him and grounds him more than anything else. Eddie won't leave him. He just wouldn't.

Richie sort of absently grabs loosely at what he can easily reach of Eddie as soon as he's back in front of him- which happens to be the hem of his shorts- even though the movement jolts up his arm.

He blinks slowly at Eddie at first, not fully grasping what's happening, and then laughing when it does. Is it normal to laugh when you can feel blood dripping slickly down to your wrist?]

It's alright Kasprak, I understand if you're struggling to not put the moves on me in this charming state.

[He puts Eddie out of his misery though, and removes the shirt as carefully as he can, biting down noises as he pulls fabric away from where it's stuck to his skin.]

[wheezed]

( God, it's happening. He can feel his cheeks heating up, and it's all he can do not to drop the handfuls of bandages clutched in his fists. Richie audibly winces even as he's clearly trying to keep it in, and Eddie's fists clench up tighter in response.

The last thing he should be doing is entertaining– thoughts, while Richie's injured like this. It's only the injury that keeps him focused enough to avoid tailspinning on that thought, honestly, and as soon as the shirt is off Eddie quickly swoops in.

He keeps up a steady stream of chatter as he starts wrapping the bandage around the arm, meaningless and easy to tune out and non-stop, right up until he secures the end.

The noise dies off. Eddie looks at Richie, a complicated expression on his face. He's still holding the other boys arm loosely, and the other hand drops to rest on Richie's knee. )

...You have to be more careful, Rich. I can't– I don't want to see you get hurt again.

[badimpression]

[Maybe it's easy for Eddie to tune himself out, but Richie could never. He soaks up every word, eyes tracking Eddie's face as he speaks like there's something more to glean from the way his brow furrows as he focuses, or the shape of his lips when they thin out all stern. He feels dizzy. On a precipice.

Eddie's words are a friendly little nudge. He cares so much. More than anyone else in Richie's life has ever bothered to care.]

Yeah, I- this was fucking stupid. I know. I'm sorry.

[Eddie's hands feel warm and soft, and Richie's heart isn't racing, but it's loud as thunder in his ears all the same. Everything feels slow and heavy, and the usual sharp slash of fear that hits him at times like these is absent when he reaches up and curls a hand over Eddie's cheek. Richie smiles at him.]

Would you still bandage me up again, if there was a next time, Doctor K?

[wheezed]

That's a stupid question.

( Eddie has lost count of the amount of times that he's said something to that effect to Richie. 'That's so stupid', or 'you're so stupid', or 'you're being stupid' – and always with this annoyingly fond slant to the words. As if he's really saying the opposite.

This time is no different, really. It's just as fond as ever, just a hell of a lot gentler than Eddie normally manages. There's so many more sharp corners and barbed edges to Eddie's words than he wants – most of all when it comes to Richie – it's a wonder anyone sees anything beyond that. And beyond all expectations, it's Richie who sees it. Sees him. )

I'll always help. No matter what.

( It's entirely plausible that Eddie stopped breathing at some point. Probably right around when Richie's hand met his cheek, and he's probably just passed out by now. Maybe it's that crazy notion that this is some nonsense dream that makes him move, or maybe it's just been left simmering for far too long. Maybe it's the adrenaline and fear of losing Richie finally making itself known – but Eddie doesn't barf. Instead he does something much, much more stupid.

He leans in fast, and just like that he's pressing his lips somewhat clumsily against Richie's. )

[badimpression]

That's the only kinda question I got.

[Richie's still grinning, eyes lit up at the way Eddie is entirely in this moment with him, softer around the edges than he usually allows himself to be, which is just how Richie feels right now, too. Like they're both letting their guard down, together.

And Richie is definitely caught off guard when Eddie leans in and lands one on him.

For a second he just sort of sits there, mind racing to catch up, feeling outside of himself. Like maybe he really has lost too much blood, and he's hallucinating.

But it's truly only just a second, and then Eddie's lips, and his warm breath on Richie's face, feels too real to be anything else, and Richie is kissing back, only able to think about how much he's wanted exactly this for longer than he would ever care to admit.

He doesn't think about any consequences, or dealing with the aftermath, or why it's happening. Just this.

Until he needs to take a breath, and then the floodgates open up and he's bowled over, so stunned that he can't move.]

[wheezed]

( The real tragedy, more than anything, is that Eddie never lets himself enjoy it.

He's grappled with this for months, probably longer if he's honest with himself, and there should be even just a single moment where he forgets about his many and varied anxieties for just long enough to actually appreciate what is happening. He's wanted this very thing so badly that it felt like a physical thing taking up residence in his lungs and weighing down his chest – but he's hated how much he has wanted this just as much.

Even as Richie doesn't pull away, Eddie's mind is already spinning with the reality of what he's just done. He's already piecing together exactly what has just happened and putting it together in the most unpleasant ways possible. Richie's injured, Richie needed him, and Eddie—

By the time Richie takes his breath and Eddie yanks back quick as a flash, already visibly mortified. He touches his mouth once, quickly, and then his hands drop back into little fists in his lap once more. )

I- You- I didn't- Richie, don't-

( His breathing is already ramping up to dangerous speeds, but at least he's not wheezing yet. Eddie can't focus on articulating properly and staving off an asthma attack at the same time, so he just ends up doing a very poor job of both. )

I didn't mean to. I didn't, I swear. I don't–

[badimpression]

[It's like the ground rushing up to meet him after leaping off a swing. Eddie looks horrified, at himself, or at Richie, or at what just happened, maybe all of the above, and Richie doesn't really want to fucking know. He does his best to lock his expression down, bites on the inside of his cheek to stop the way his mouth quivers, and swallows the bile that rises in his throat.

When he speaks, it's as much to himself as it is to Eddie.]

No, it's okay. It's fine. Eds, breathe. Stop for a second. You gotta just breathe.

[He's already dropped his hand from Eddie's cheek like it's been burned, and now he balls it up in the fabric of his shirt, clenching it tightly and then dropping it once he realises it's not enough, it doesn't do anything to calm his own mounting panic. Instead, he curls his fingers around his knee, and it's nothing like the soft touch of his hand to Eddie's face- he bites his nails viciously into the skin of his leg, digging and pushing until it's all he can feel, not the swimming of his stomach.]

I know. It's okay. I know.

[Of course Eddie didn't mean to. Of course he didn't. Fuck.]

[wheezed]

( This is probably the worst thing that's ever happened to Eddie, and he can't even blame Pennywise this time. This is a mess entirely of his own making, and now to make it worse Richie is left trying to comfort him. As if Eddie hasn't just done something terrible.

It's that thought more than anything that makes Eddie gulp down a few rapid, large breaths of air. His head is spinning a little, but he can't tell if it's from the sudden rush of oxygen to his lungs or the magnitude of what he's just done. Either way it's entirely unimportant right now. )

You do?

( If there's even a glimmer of hope that he might make it through this without Richie hating him, he'll grab it with both hands. Even if that means swallowing down the rising pain that comes with the knowledge that Richie really isn't interested in all that, at least not where Eddie is concerned.

Stupid really, because Eddie already knew that. But he maybe could have lived without the confirmation a little longer.

He swallows hard, a few times in quick succession just like his breaths, and when he speaks it's even faster. )

So. Just– forget about it. It's not even important when you've got a literal open wound just pissing out blood right there. I mean not really pissing out blood but it could still get infected, there's dust like...everywhere...

[badimpression]

[Eddie grabs onto his words with something desperate, relief maybe, and Richie allows it to happen as if it doesn't shatter him into pieces. He nods a few times, jittery and anxious to pass the moment by, wanting that look off of Eddie's face.]

Yeah. Yeah, forgotten. Done. Bam. Memory like a sieve, this one! What's my name again? Woah golly! How did I get here!

[His voice, a fast-paced, transatlantic accent, invites Eddie to laugh, but his eyes are empty.]

Alrighty, doc. You think we can finish up here soon?