10/5-10/6 [For anyone who needs it!]

[the_trashmouth]

He wakes up with a start, in a cold sweat, and it takes him a moment to even realize where he is. Just a second ago, he was in the woods, there was a creature and Eddie...

Instead of being back in the clearing with the monster, he's in his bed in the Home, like he was days and days ago. Like nothing ever happened. Was it all a dream? He looks over and sees Jamie asleep in the bed next to him, just like he's supposed to be.

Richie is supposed to be dead. He'd thought Eddie was going to die and he'd shouted at the top of his lungs to stop it. It'd been fucking stupid, but it was all he could think to do. He... he couldn't just let Eddie die.

"Jamie! Hey!" Richie shouts, bounding out of his own bed, but he stops short when he sees Eddie in the bed next to him, also asleep. Richie shakes both of his friends, but they won't wake up. Greta and Bev's dad say the same thing's happened to Bev and Regan too. Regan's even in the hospital. Richie goes by and sits with her for a while, but it's the same.

She won't wake up.

The people at the Home seem okay with it all. They say it's happened before. It's fucked up.

Richie spends the next day with Stan, knowing he's supposed to go to school tomorrow, but also not knowing how he's supposed to just keep going on when his friends are asleep. What if they never wake up and they're stuck forever? He hasn't slept. He doesn't think Stan has either.

Most of the time, Richie is convinced that Darrow can't possibly be worse than Derry, but today, it almost feels like it.



[okay! Stan can tag immediately after Richie wakes up, Eddie and Jamie after they wake up, Bev and Regan after Richie goes looking for them at their perspective spots... hospital & house? Anyone else feel free to use this for whatever they need to use it for!]

Comments

[lost_boy]

For the past few days, I felt as if I was always tired. No matter how much I slept, I just wanted to sleep more and so when I woke and felt sunlight warm across my body, at first I only turned over and tried to go back to sleep. But a second later I realized what was wrong. We had been sleeping underground, no windows, no sunlight, and my heart began to pound as I opened my eyes again and found myself back in the Home.

Back in Darrow.

It didn't fill me with the relief I wanted it to. I only felt sick, because if we were here, if we got to come back, it meant Richie had missed coming home by just a little while. I hunched over in bed and wrapped my arms around my bent knees, burying my face against the blanket so I could properly cry without anyone seeing.

This wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

[finally_ahead]

Stan's rotated to Jamie's bedside at this point, and he's reading, careful and precise (if a little exhausted), a detailed description of one of the kinds of sandpipers that can be found on Darrow's beach. He really likes sandpipers, actually, with their spindly long legs.

But then Jamie's moving, and Stan stops, puts the book aside.

"Hey, Jamie," he says, trying to sound normal and calm. "You're awake." He watches as the older boy curls up, and after hesitating, puts his hand on Jamie's back. "Are you okay?"

[lost_boy]

It felt unbearably nice having someone comfort me and even if it was only a hand on my back, I cried harder for a moment, my shoulders shaking. Hearing Stan's voice made my stomach flip over uncomfortably, because I knew I would have to tell him what happened to Richie. Eddie had already told Beverly and I knew I couldn't make him go through that again.

I sat up a little and wiped my face, wishing I could tell Stan I was fine, but I wasn't. Nothing was fine.

"Did I just come back?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "How... I don't understand how it all works." I didn't know that Stan would either, but I wanted him to tell me if my body had just appeared.

[finally_ahead]

Jamie's been so nice to him, and so it's hard for Stan to hold onto being angry at him, or upset the way he'd been to find the other Losers gone ahead without him. He supposes it's also because he doesn't know Jamie as well yet, even though he thinks he really will get to know him.

He's not very sure how to comfort him, so he tries putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You've been here the whole time. All of you. You didn't disappear. I just woke up a couple of days ago and none of you would wake up. They said it's normal here. Richie woke up yesterday, so we've been waiting for you."

[lost_boy]

It was my confusion that stopped me from crying, my brain feeling as thought it was trying to catch up with everything Stan was saying. We had been there with Regan's family, we had seen the creatures, walking through the trees. I had gone back to collect Richie's glasses after he was taken and I had seen the blood, but Stan was saying we had been here. Sleeping.

"Richie w-woke up?" I asked. "He's here?"

I wanted to be relieved. I wanted to feel something other than this heart pounding confusion that only seemed to mingle with my sadness because Richie had died. I had buried the parts of him that were still there. Eddie had seen it happen.

[the_trashmouth]

Richie's sitting in a chair nearby with a book, but he's not really reading it. It's something he's supposed to be reading for school— Great Expectations— but he thinks he's just going to try and bullshit his way through class instead.

He's closing the book when Jamie stirs, turning over, and Richie's eyes open wide with surprise.

"Jamie?! Holy shit, you're awake!" he hsays, and bounds over to his friend's bed. When he first woke up, his legs were a little wobbly, but it's been an entire day now and everything's mostly back to normal now.

[lost_boy]

For one dangerous moment I thought I was going to be sick.

My stomach turned over and my mouth fell open at the sight of Richie and the sound of his voice. It brought me back to the night of that movie, when I had seen and heard Sal, but there had been so much blood and she had been so angry with me for having let the crocodile get to her. Richie didn't sound angry at all, but even still my heart felt as if it stopped from fear he was going to blame me somehow for what had happened. If I had been there maybe I could have stopped it from happening, just like Sal had said on that terrible night.

But he didn't sound angry. He just sounded... relieved.

I swiped at the tears on my cheeks and then reached out and grabbed Richie's face between my hands so I could look at him. "Are you real?" I asked.

[the_trashmouth]

Richie's face is squished between Jamie's hands and it kind of hurts a little, but even so, Richie can't stop grinning. Jamie's awake and Jamie's alive, and it was all some fucked up dream for all of them, but everyone's going to be okay.

"Aye, and yer a sight fer sore eyes, me boy!" Richie replies, though the Voice comes out a little strange, considering his face is squashed.

[lost_boy]

"You idiot," I said without the slightest bit of heat, then threw my arms around Richie's shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. I wanted to cry and I wanted to laugh and I wanted to shout for Eddie so he could see Richie was okay, but my voice felt caught in my throat and all I could do was hug Richie as relief and anger and sadness washed over my all at once.

"You died," I said when it felt like my voice would work again. The words came out hoarse and my voice cracked, but I wasn't embarrassed as I pulled back to look at Richie again. "You died and it was so awful and Eddie and Beverly and... they were so... Regan's dad went back out and found your glasses. I wanted to go back to find you, I wanted to- I had to make a marker for you, it felt wrong if I didn't, but everyone was hurting and so sad and-"

I stopped abruptly and exhaled. I usually didn't say so much at once and it was exhausting.

[eddie_spaghetti]

Eddie fought because he had to. If not for Jamie, if not for Beverly, he knew he wouldn't have bothered, but that had always been true. His friends were the spark that lit a fire under him. They were what made him brave, even now, when he didn't feel much of anything at all.

The last few days in Regan's world were quiet, with Jamie sleeping more than he should, and Eddie retreating into himself, but then they were back, those things, and Eddie just saw red.

It was bleeding, its high-pitched screams rattling throughout the interior of Regan's house, and then, with a jolt, Eddie was awake.

A nurse's face hovering over his, and he yelped, arms flailing to try and get away. She tried to shush him, warm hands at his shoulders, but he squirmed away, yanking an IV from his wrist and landing in a heap on the floor of the infirmary.

His stomach roiled and he stumbled to his feet, hurtling himself towards the bathroom, bare feet skidding on the linoleum in the hall.

[finally_ahead]

Since Richie's been awake, Stan's finally let himself doze off, and he's slumped against the wall, sitting on the end of the bed Richie has been in, eyelids flutter.

There's a sudden burst of noise and sound and Stan stares a bit dumbly at Eddie pulling his own IV out and taking off. He charges past the nurse too, hot on Eddie's trail.

"Eddie, Eddie, wait!" He hates how panicky he sounds; at least Eddie won't care about that. Seconds later, he too has skidded into the bathroom.

[eddie_spaghetti]

Eddie's knees hit the tile in front of the toilet, unable to care much about germs as he braced his hands on either side of the stall and emptied nothing but stomach acids into the toilet bowl. He dry heaved for a moment, tears stinging his eyes, a sob dragging its way out of his throat along with the meager contents of his stomach.

"God," he moaned miserably, groping blindly for the toilet paper and using a wad of it to wipe his mouth. He spit into the bowl, then collapsed against the metal wall of the toilet stall, the door standing wide open.

That's when he saw Stan, whose eyes were red-rimmed and stricken. "What happened?" He croaked, realizing he couldn't remember how he'd gotten from Regan's farm to the infirmary at the Home. Had they gotten back somehow? Waiting for an answer, his chin wobbled, thinking back to a few days ago, when he'd had to tell Beverly that Richie was gone. With Stan standing over him, he knew he might have to do it all over again, and he wasn't sure if he could.

[finally_ahead]

Stan walks to where he knows there are some little paper cups, and then he fills one three-quarters of the way with cold water. He makes his way back to Eddie, holding it out. "I don't know," he says. "You've been in some kind of coma for a few days. The nurse said it's normal for this place. You and Bev and Richie and Jamie... I woke up and Richie and Jamie didn't, and you didn't, and."

He shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Richie's been back up for like, a day."

[eddie_spaghetti]

"Wait, what?" Eddie said, his voice small and afraid. Afraid to hope, afraid he'd misheard, afraid of a lot of things. His hands fell away from his face, looking up at Stan pleadingly.

"What do you mean, he's back up? But he was... He wasn't... He's here?" His voice cracked, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye, but he was too screwed up and too confused to care. Plus, he doubted Stan would give him shit about it, anyway.

"Stan, Richie died. I watched him die. We were... We were in this place with these monsters, and he..." He saved me, he thought, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, but he could feel his throat closing up again. "It wasn't real? What the fuck?"

[the_trashmouth]

Richie only gets up for a minute. He's been sitting there beside Eddie and Jamie's beds for most of the day, with Stan. He'd left before, to check on Regan and Bev, but most of the day he's been right there. He tried to read a book for a while, but when it comes down to it, he can't really concentrate on it. It's homework and he's supposed to be going to school tomorrow like normal, but Richie doesn't think he's going to be able to do it.

It was stupid.

Maybe it was all just a dream, but Richie knows what he did was stupid. But compared to what he thought was going to happen to Eddie... well, Richie can't think of anything he would have done differently, if it happened all over again.

He's headed back to Jamie and Richie's beds with a glass of water, and it's not until he's nearly there that he notices Eddie's bed is empty.

"Fuck! Eddie!" he calls, rushing back into the hallway.

[eddie_spaghetti]

What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

Richie's voice. He heard it, and God, maybe he was just crazy. Maybe he was certifiable. It would make a hell of a lot of sense, after everything.

Colliding with the bathroom door, his hand on the knob, Eddie dragged in a wheezing breath and turned to look, expecting to see nothing. Expecting to see a ghost.

Instead, it was just Richie, solid and real and rushing towards him.

"What the fuck?" Eddie whined, slumping against the door frame, tears springing to his eyes.

[the_trashmouth]

"Holy shit, you're awake," Richie says, breathing out a breath of relief. They kept telling him and Stan that it was temporary, that everyone would wake up soon, but he wasn't sure he believed them. But seeing Eddie awake and standing there was better than anyone insisting it would happen eventually.

Richie stops, then closes the distance between himself and Eddie, throwing his arms around his friend and pulling him into a hug.

He's so relieved, Richie doesn't even register the confusion and shock on Eddie's face. He's just glad he's okay.

[eddie_spaghetti]

Eddie couldn't remember being this confused in his whole life. Richie was there, right there, skinny arms tight around him, his glasses digging into the side of Eddie's face.

"You were dead," he whispered, gripping the back of Richie's shirt, face turning into the crook of Richie's neck. "What the fuck..."

Jolting back, Eddie shoved at Richie's shoulders, angry splotches of red standing out on his cheeks. "What the fuck, Richie? What the hell's going on?" He shouted— or he tried to shout, but his voice was more of a strangled squawk.

[finally_ahead]

Stan sits on the end of Richie's bed with a very large book on his lap. It's not opened, but it's a good place to set his hands. He thinks he might like the book, a huge and colorful collection of bird photography, when he's not worried that his friends are dying.

The nurse that's been in and out, trying to shoo him away, says it just happens. They'll wake up and be okay.

All Stan can think, with varying refrains of helplessness and anger, is you left me. At this point, his eyes have almost taken on a permanent rim of pink. He spends his time straightening their bedsheets after the nurse messes it up, and sits by each bed, Richie and Eddie and Jamie, reading aloud from a birding guide he'd found at the library.

He's not sure what else to do, especially not after visiting Bev's place.

Then Richie is awake and yelling, and Stan tumbles off the edge of the bed, shocked. "Richie?"

[the_trashmouth]

He's not dead. He's supposed to be dead.

"What the fuck?" he says, wide eyed, and reaches for his glasses on a table next to the bed.

For a moment, Richie feels like he can't breathe. It's almost the same feeling as before, only now, there's relief there. He's in his bed, not out in the woods. And Stan's there. Richie never thought he'd see Stan again.

[finally_ahead]

Truth be told, Stan has been crying, off and on, for nearly twenty four straight hours, and he's too tired to be ashamed of the absolute screaming fit that had meant the nurse and other staff stopped trying to take him out of this room.

He'd like not to absolutely lose his shit all over Richie, but wishes are horses or whatever bullshit.

"Richie, you dumb asshole, what's wrong with you guys?" Stan clambers up the bed and hugs Richie even as he continues. "You all fell asleep and I couldn't wake you up, and I went to find Bev and she was asleep too, and this place is fucked, Richie, what happened?"

[the_trashmouth]

"It wasn't real..." Richie says, the realization dawning on him. He'd spent fucking days keeping silent, knowing that they'd all die if he so much as said a few words, his stomach in knots of dread the entire time. In a lot of ways, it felt so much worse than what he remembers from Derry.

He knows he needs to answer Stan, that his friend needs to know what happened, but Richie can't help it when he's the one who starts to cry, taking his glasses off to press his palms to his eyes, even if he feels stupid for it.

"...shit."

[finally_ahead]

"What wasn't real," demands Stan, his anxiety climbing right back up when Richie starts to cry. That's not supposed to happen, he thinks. Richie isn't supposed to cry.

He feels too small and too awkward, but all of this has just convinced him that much more about what it is to be a Loser. Stan takes Richie's glasses and carefully sets them aside so they won't get broken, and then he puts his arms around Richie.

"It's okay," he mutters. "You're still a dumb asshole, but you're okay. Okay? I promise. You were just sleeping. Did-- did you have a bad dream?"

[negative_feedback]

Regan feels a little wobbly, still, but the doctors had found no reason to keep her once she'd woken up. They hadn't even wanted to keep her during her coma, because apparently this was just something that happened, but Greta had insisted.

After she's home, and she and Greta and Saoirse have their time together, she decides to make her way to the Home. If she's back — or, awake, which is what Greta had told her — then they are, too, right?

She feels a little sick as she gets closer, though. She can't help but think of Richie. He's gone, and it's her fault. A bitter, angry part of her notes that he's another loss to add to her list. She keeps losing people, and it's always her fault.

She stands outside the Home for what feels like a long time before finally going inside. Everything seems normal, like nobody'd been gone — sleeping, she reminds herself — for two days straight. It's hard to imagine people just... so easily going about their lives. Richie's gone. Shouldn't they be mourning?

[runtowardsomething]

Beverly isn't sure exactly how long it's been since she woke up and learned that she'd been asleep in the first place. Despite how long it's apparently been — days, if Hopper is to be believed, and when he looks more worried than she's ever seen him, she can't doubt that — she's exhausted, feeling like she hasn't slept at all. It's hard to reconcile, anyway, the idea of having spent two days in some sort of weird coma while spending weeks in another world. Despite the obvious, it doesn't feel like a bad dream. It was too prolonged for that, too detailed, and anyway, she knows what her nightmares are like.

She should get in touch with Eddie and Jamie and the others and see if they're awake, how they're doing. She should call Stan, too, who she's heard stopped by the other day. But she's still just disoriented and foggy, beyond relieved to be back but fucking sad, too, and not really sure how to pick up the pieces here and get back to the life she thought was lost to her.

So far, she's done little more than sit on the couch in her pajamas, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, sipping water and picking at food that she isn't hungry for. When she hears a knock at the door, she thinks about ignoring it, but instead gets to her feet, slowly making her way over to answer it.

She doesn't know who she's expecting to see on the other side of it, but she certainly couldn't have expected it would be someone who just fucking died.

For a moment, she stares at Richie, wide-eyed and stunned, not sure how he could possibly be there or even if he's real. He looks real, though, and quickly, part of her decides that it doesn't matter, that she doesn't want to stand around waiting for an explanation. Instead, she steps forward and throws her arms around him, letting out a trembling exhale. "You fucking asshole," she says, muffled into his shoulder, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You're here?"