"Eddie, Eddie, look at me. Look at me, man. Keep your eyes open."
There's a roaring sound in his ears. He blinks and rolls his head painfully to the side, and sees that the Neibolt house is crumbling like the earth opened up great blackened jaws to swallow it whole, dust rising into the blue sky.
He feels so cold. Richie's hand on his cheek is shockingly warm, and there's a thick numbness spreading from his chest where he's pretty fucking sure he was just impaled. Richie's wadded-up jacket pressed into the wound. He licks his lips twice, and when he manages to speak his voice is a hollow rasp. "Did we. Did we kill it?"
"Yeah, yeah, that motherfucker's dead meat," Richie says. "Dead and buried. Come on Eds. Come on. Mike's bringing the car around, so you just gotta hang on. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep looking at me."
He does. Richie seems to be glowing, silhouetted against the rising sun, glasses cracked, face bloody, eyes wide. His hands are gentle, though.
"You carried me out," Eddie rasps.
"Yeah, yeah, of course we did," Richie says, and ducks his head to press a clumsy burning kiss to Eddie's forehead. He's crying. His tears feel like a balm when they land on Eddie's grimy skin. "Of course we did."
no subject
There's a roaring sound in his ears. He blinks and rolls his head painfully to the side, and sees that the Neibolt house is crumbling like the earth opened up great blackened jaws to swallow it whole, dust rising into the blue sky.
He feels so cold. Richie's hand on his cheek is shockingly warm, and there's a thick numbness spreading from his chest where he's pretty fucking sure he was just impaled. Richie's wadded-up jacket pressed into the wound. He licks his lips twice, and when he manages to speak his voice is a hollow rasp. "Did we. Did we kill it?"
"Yeah, yeah, that motherfucker's dead meat," Richie says. "Dead and buried. Come on Eds. Come on. Mike's bringing the car around, so you just gotta hang on. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep looking at me."
He does. Richie seems to be glowing, silhouetted against the rising sun, glasses cracked, face bloody, eyes wide. His hands are gentle, though.
"You carried me out," Eddie rasps.
"Yeah, yeah, of course we did," Richie says, and ducks his head to press a clumsy burning kiss to Eddie's forehead. He's crying. His tears feel like a balm when they land on Eddie's grimy skin. "Of course we did."