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[beavertrap]

i'm reddie trash so the more the better | all about that deep platonic love with the other losers | text | action | pics | prose | go wild, bitches

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[respirations]

❪ nightmares have become so commonplace that they're almost familiar at this point. eddie expects them, falls asleep still dreading them though. it's always the same thing— they're in that cavern below the sewers fighting It. they're scattered, richie gets caught in the deadlights and he spears the bastard through his stupid fucking mouth.

everything should be great now, dandy but it isn't. He's sitting over richie, smiling and laughing and then suddenly there's blood all over richie. his blood. sometimes the nightmares play out as they did in real life: he's thrown down deeper into the cavern, he's bleeding out but sometimes it's different. sometimes the monster rips him in two, sometimes it stabs richie instead, sometimes it stabs both of them. sometimes they all die down there instead of just him.

but he didn't die, did he? no— he's alive, breathing and presently kicking as another dream shocks him awake with a wheezed gasp. He's hyperventilating, literally been scared awake and he's having to fumble in the dark to get the nightstand open and his inhaler out. a few needy breaths in and he dissolves into a fit of coughs which wouldn't be an issue aside from the still healing hole in his chest.

god— he was a fucking mess. ❫

[beavertrap]

[ It's a combination of the movement and wheezing that wakes Richie up, moving to turn on the light on his side but instead hitting the floor in a loud thump. He still tries his best to flail up onto his feet and turn the lamp on, staring wide-eyed at what he thinks is Eddie's heaving back. Oh yeah, glasses.

As he fumbles to get those on, ]

What is it? Eddie? What's going on?

[respirations]

❪ he's still in the midst of a coughing fit when eddie feels movement on richie's side of the bed. somewhere in the middle of it, he hears a thud but he's nearly bent over from the coughing and the pain it's causing his still healing wound that he can't quite look over.

things were supposed to be better now that he left the hospital, now that they were together but it constantly feels like his own problems were setting things back. ❫

Bad— bad... ❪ he sighs and takes another needy puff of his inhaler, breathing out a wheezed sound. ❫ Shitty fucking dream.

[beavertrap]

[ Richie breathes out a heavy sigh -- both tired and relieved. Though only so much. Nightmares are still bad for them even on their best nights. He's hoping they will eventually fall away into nothing like that fucking clown did.

He moves over to sit beside Eddie, gently rubbing a hand up and down his back. ]

You're okay. None of that shit's real anymore.

[respirations]

❪ he can't help the way his body hunches up slightly as rich rubs his back, fingers running over the scar there and the main focus on his nightmares on most nights. it only lasts a moment before eddie settles again and leans into rich, sighing. ❫

Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. ❪ he mutters as he's done so many times before. ❫ I'm okay and you're here.