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Chapter Text

Feeling this horrible wave of nausea, Richie didn’t want to get out of bed that morning shielding his achy eyes from the sunshine that drifted in from the curtains. His glasses felt unusually heavy when he lifted them off his nightstand and put them on his face. Sitting up, and rubbing his aching temple, Richie noticed that the other side of the bed was vacant. From out in the kitchen, he heard Eddie talking on the phone. Based on the stress in his voice, he was most likely talking on the phone to Myra.

Hauling himself out of bed, Richie felt heavy. Standing on his jello legs was too much when normally it was so easy. Similar to the nights when he had too much to drink in his after-parties after successful shows, he had a bad headache the next morning. Hardly aware of what he was dressing in, all Richie could focus on was the performance today. Along with the funky taste in his mouth. Must have forgotten to brush his teeth last night.

Making his way to the kitchen, it felt like he was giving an elephant a piggyback ride. Because his mind was so foggy, Richie tried to remember what he did last night. No, he didn’t have a show last night.

For the first time in ages, he had the night off. So, did Eddie. While Eddie was working on his studies, Richie retired to bed early. His stomach felt weird. It still did. Richie just hoped that Eddie came to bed instead of pulling yet another all-nighter.

“Myra, can we talking about this later?” Eddie held the phone to his ear, poured a cup of coffee, and slipped through his agenda which was filled to the brim. He barely had time to breathe. Eddie decided to go back to school to become a teacher, a calling he should have gone for. If he wasn’t going through this prolonged divorce bullshit he could enjoy it a little better.

Coffee. That would wake him up. Richie didn’t even feel like eating anything. Just the thought of food made him nauseous. Ugh, the coffee smell made him want to gag.

Eddie already made him some eggs. He didn’t have to do that. Eddie did so much for him. Feeling like he’d collapse to the ground at any second, Richie sat in a chair. His eyes felt so heavy. Opening them a smidge, he just noticed that dark circles surrounding his boyfriend’s eyes before Richie shut his eyes quickly, trying to suppress the pain in his cranium.

“I don’t have much time, Myra! We’re having problems with the car and I have to take it in this morning...” Oh, Eddie just had to remind him of that. It was worse enough that they only had one car, but the car had to stop working right when Eddie was at a stoplight yesterday. Eddie did not need that, especially with how on-edge he’d been for the last three weeks over upcoming midterms. “Myra, we already discussed months ago that you’re taking both cars!”

Six months. That’s how long this divorce has been going on for. In the meantime, Eddie was busy going to school while working part-time. And he was still recovering from his injury. Some days the pain was so great, but he kept moving forward. That was Eddie.

Taking one bite of his eggs, Richie didn’t want to eat anymore. His cell phone dinged.

Steve: The limo will be at your house in fifteen minutes. Be ready.

Today was the Comedian Face Off Show. Richie had been waiting weeks, preparing the best jokes and under the bus comments against one of his greatest competitors in the comedy world. He could finally smoke her for burning him in one of her bits. But, he didn’t feel like doing that. To be honest, he didn’t know how to form words right now.

Eddie feverishly stacked all his books into a school bag, checking his watch. “I have to go, I will talk to you later!” And Eddie hung up on her when she was in mid-sentence. He made a loud groan, crushing his head into a chair. Richie felt so bad for him. If only his arms didn’t feel like cement, he’d reach out and give his arm a comforting touch.

“I know what you are going to say, she’s doing this just to get back at me. But, Rich, it’s all going to end soon.” Eddie took another deep breath. He noticed that Richie was being strangely quiet, but he went on with his rant anyway.

“So, this one teacher gives like three assignments for the weekend; all essays! I think college has changed since I have been there. I going to the library ‘til noon, then I have to to go work. It might be until seven tonight, but I’ll check...”

As much as Richie loved listening to Eddie, this morning he was getting a horrible headache. Ugh, his stomach lurched. Pressing his hand against his stomach, Richie felt warm. Didn’t Eddie notice? He always noticed when something was off.

No, he couldn’t alert him of whatever this was. It was probably nothing. Eddie had far too much on his plate. Richie couldn’t put something else over his shoulders. Besides, he had to put these worries aside and get psyched for his big show today.

His phone dinged again. Struggling to get his phone out of his pocket, the words swirled in Richie’s vision. Making sure that he was wearing his glasses, a car honked out front. His ride was here. Eddie’s phone rang again. Myra.

Richie struggled out of his seat. Was this forty? Okay, forty-one. He put the plate of barely eaten eggs into the sink. Eddie noticed.

“Rich?” Eddie struggled to catch up, picking up his heavy bag, but to his luck he dropped a book. Myra continued to talk his ear off as he bent over, jolting from the pain. No wonder Richie wasn’t talking. And he always ate his breakfast. The way Richie was dragging his feet, and supporting himself against the wall was very unusual.

Dragging his feet along the ground, and grabbing a light jacket, Richie placed a hand over his stomach, listening to it making this strange gurgling noises. Once he got outside the rays from the sun hurt his eyes, making him squint. Either he was feverish or the L.A. sun was kicked up a notch today.

“Hey, Richie! Wait for a second!” Eddie begged, locking the door in the process. Richie took off down the stairs, hiding his face, and stuffing his hands inside his pockets. He wanted Eddie to look at him more than anything; to have his hand touch his forehead, or to just make him rest for one day so they could spend some time together. “Are you okay?”

I don’t want to worry you, Eds, but could you stop me and feel my head, please? “Yes.”

Oh no, was Richie mad that he was skipping out on another one of his shows? He was never mad, but Eddie felt terrible. Feeling a sting of guilt in his stomach, Eddie realized that they never kissed each other goodbye. Was it his imagination or did Richie look pale?

“Okay, I love you!” Eddie called after his boyfriend somberly before he had to return to his call with Myra. Whenever Richie stuffed his hands into his pockets that meant that something was the matter. It still wasn’t easy for him to talk about his feelings. Oh, speaking of which, it was their six month anniversary tomorrow! And he had to work...

Richie lied down in the backseat of the limo once they were far enough away from his house. His stomach churned. Oh, please, let this pass? Today was going to be big.

Chapter Text

“Can you believe it, Rich? We have a full audience!” An excited Steve told him as they walked backstage. Richie did his best to keep up. Normally, he was faster than Steve, considering the height difference.

Right from the moment, he showed up, there was no time to sit down which was what Richie needed to do. Before the show began they had to check mics, and do countless other tasks in preparation before the audience arrived.

So far, he met Jack, one of the comedians that he was facing off, but there was no sign of Ronnie yet. To what Richie could decipher, he thought people were trying to figure out if she was in the building. Oh, he was going to figure out a way to roast her. That was if he could get his jumbled mind together.

“Rich, did you hear what I said?” Steve caught his attention. Just like that morning, Richie felt too heavy to even stand, wanting to sit. Smacking his lips together, a foul taste impacted his mouth. There was so much going on backstage that he couldn’t comprehend it all.

“Huh, what?” Richie asked, trying to wake up. His body ached whenever he moved. Especially his back. Due to that hard fall he took after... just thinking about that evil clown made his stomach turn.

“Rich, I’m trying to talk to you about important information, here! Are you all alright? Because you look not alright,” Steve said to him, worriedly. He noticed how pale he looked. From the very start when Richie first became a comedian, he witnessed a couple of times where the comedian had stage fright.

Breathing in a good breath of air, Richie straightened his back more so he wasn’t slouching. One of the stage managers came over to tell them they had about ten minutes until showtime.

“I’m great,” he answered, smiling through the pain.

Getting backstage, Richie walked to his microphone which was in the middle of the three. He could hear the awaiting audience behind the curtain. Grasping his stomach, Richie cringed, bending over a bit. He could hardly hold the mic. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Everything okay, Richie?” Jack asked, putting a hand on his back. They only just met an hour ago. Richie noticed that Ronnie wasn’t here. Good, maybe she backed out. Battling against just Jack would be a lot easier.

Richie was so out of it that he wasn’t aware that the curtain opened revealing hundreds and hundreds of people applauding and cheering. That loud noise crushed Richie’s eardrums. Feeling sweat, Richie could only guess that it was because of all the stage lights. Those lights were hot enough to melt a blanket of snow.

Blinking his eyes to focus, Richie couldn’t look at the audience without feeling his eyes swirl.

“How are you doin’ this afternoon, guys?” Jack presented, waving to the audience.

Come on, Tozier, get a grip. “We-We have a great show.” Thankfully he was on a mic. He couldn’t speak any louder than his indoor voice which was unlike him.

“That’s right!” Came a woman’s voice. All hope drained out of Richie. Nobody told him that Ronnie was making her own grand entrance through the auditorium. Why didn’t he think of that?

Ronnie was dressed for the performance that was for sure. Wearing hippie-like pants and a crop top, her shoes were purple sketchers. She had the time to style her hair into a mohawk. Wow, were those her hoop earrings, or were her ears bigger than the normal human ear?

Coming right up on the stage, she stared down Richie like a hawk, immediately upstaging him. “I would have been here on time but Tozier’s batmobile is so big that I had to get a tow truck!”

Grimacing, Richie stepped in. Come to think of it, now he couldn’t even remember his own script. Oh well, here it goes. “Says the woman with oversized toes. I guess toes with undone nail polish make great trucks! Are those earrings supposed to be a stop sign?”

The crowd got a big kick out of that one. Maybe this was going to go smoothly.

Or so Richie thought. Most of the show was Jack and Ronnie taking cracks and making jokes. Richie made a few jokes, but he stopped in mid-sentence, feeling too sick to speak. He was only embarrassing himself. Did any of the audience notice that he was being strangely quiet?

Someone had to be filming like they always did. Most of his performances went on Youtube. That one performance where he completely lost his whole train of thought, the audience was quick to come back at him, throwing out insults. Luckily, he saved himself, cracking a joke, and going on with the show.

“Do you know how some couples try to pick a channel on TV?” Ronnie started. “Men take forEVER!”

“Is that so?” Jack asked, egging her on. Richie had no energy to speak trying to look away from the bright lights. His stomach...

“What do you say, Trashmouth? Do women take longer to pick a channel?” she battled against the man.

Suck it up, Tozier. “You want to know what I think?”

“Everybody wants to know what you think!” she indicated to the large crowd.

Oh, God, his stomach was on fire. Ignore it, it’s nothing! “I say...”

The audience howled. Not because of Richie’s attempt to roast his enemy. He threw up all over the stage.

Richie slowly stood back up, panic consuming him. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Everybody was in an uproar, disgusted by what they just witnessed, some trying to run out of the auditorium. Feeling his heart pounding, his throat closing up, Richie couldn’t think straight. What did he just do?

“I-I’m sorry...” Richie quivered into the microphone at an attempt to make this situation less embarrassing. What if they thought that this was all part of his routine.

The curtain closed. Immediately, Richie was lead away by a stagehand, and Jack at his side. Steve joined them, asking him questions he couldn’t understand. As he was leaving, he heard Ronnie complaining that he ruined her outfit. And then a voice came over the loudspeaker. Richie was so embarrassed and overwhelmed about everything that he couldn’t make out the words.

Finally, he was back in his dressing room. Peace. Except, Richie’s stomach wasn’t peaceful. He ran to the trash can, crunching down on his hands and knees just in time.

“Jesus, Rich, what’s that matter? Are you okay?” Steve asked, hovering from the scene. A stagehand came over to him and offered Richie a tissue to clean his mouth. He barely had the energy to walk over to the couch. When he made it, Richie curled up, groaning. It wasn’t the comfiest of couches, but at least it was something.

“... I’m sick...” Richie uttered, tears falling from his eyes as he grasped his ailing stomach. His throat hurt. Anytime he opened his eyes, everything spun in disorientating shapes. Everything hurt, aching.

“It wasn’t stage fright or anything, was it? Rich, do you think you can go back on?” Steve asked him pulling up a chair.

The thought of even going back out on that stage made his stomach lurch. Who wanted to see him anyway? “No.”

“Do you want us to call anyone? You should go home,” the stagehand suggested. Steve shook his head at the suggestion, but he agreed that it was for the better.

Richie wanted Eddie. He wanted his boyfriend to come to his rescue so he could save him from this nightmare. But, knowing how Eddie feared germs, he wasn’t going to be happy about this. Besides, he was running around doing a million different things at once. If he put this over his shoulders, Eddie was sure to pop out of his skin.

Trying to get comfortable on the couch, Richie’s eyes were so heavy. “Let me rest for a bit?”

“Are you sure? I can get the limp to send you home,” Steve suggested.

Richie couldn’t fight sleep.

Chapter Text

“Richie? Hey, Richie? Wake up.”

Opening his eyes after once again dreaming about horrific events that happened on stage, Richie felt like he was on another planet. He couldn’t open his eyes, let alone see straight. Somebody was talking to him, but his cranium was in so much pain that Richie had no clue what the words meant. His stomach felt worse. It felt like a volcano would erupt.

Feeling himself being lifted to his feet, Richie’s legs wouldn’t cooperate, nearly toppling over to the ground. At least he was able to walk, but he had no energy. He pressed a hand to his churning stomach.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to take the limo?” That was Steve’s voice. He sounded close.

“How could you not call me? Next time you’d better contact me if something like this ever happens again!” Richie felt so confused, doing his best to keep up. Whoever it was sounded beyond angry.

Hardly aware of what was going on, Richie struggled to get inside of a car. He was barely able to keep his head up as he sat on the seat. Turning up his nose, a foul smell lingered in this car making him gag.

Somebody pushed his head down into their lap. Fingers brushed through his hair while the other hand smoothed his aching shoulder. Everything ached. He liked that. Wait, he knew that sensation. Only one person brushed his hair like that.

Richie slowly started to connect the pieces of the puzzle. “Eddie...” he smacked his lips together, noting that foul taste occupying his mouth.

Shushing him, Eddie stroked his boyfriend’s hair, encouraging him to rest. He looked very worried. “We’ll be home in a bit, Rich.”

Not having the strength to ask any questions lingering in his mind, Richie was terribly guilty that he had to force Eddie to leave work and stop his studies just to come to his rescue. He was stressed enough as it was.

Feeling his stomach flip, Richie could only imagine what social media was like right now. Ronnie was known for making insulting tweets that ended someone’s career. The first time Richie ever performed, thankfully social media was still on the rise, a critic only talked about his anxiety instead of his jokes. From that point on, before each show, Richie did a breathing exercise to get rid of his jitters.

Groaning, Richie avoided looking out the window of the moving vehicle. Eddie opened the window to let in a cool breeze. Sweat built up on the top of Richie’s eyebrows. He was pretty sure that his clothes were swat soaked at this point. Despite feeling warm, Richie shivered. His bones ached. Eddie noticed, holding his boyfriend tighter.

Right when he was going to alert the driver to pull over, they were home.

Poor Eddie already had his heavy bag of school books to carry, plus Richie who could barely support himself. Even the little breeze was enough to knock him over. Leaning his boyfriend against the car, Richie’s legs felt like jello. As he waited for Eddie to pay the cab driver, Ronnie’s furious reaction replayed in his mind.

Grasping his churning stomach, Richie shivered. How was he cold when the sun was out? He just wanted to crawl under the covers and hibernate like a polar bear.

Feeling that uncomfortable nauseating wave in his stomach, Richie hovered his hand over his mouth. “Eddie...” Richie urgently got his boyfriend’s attention. Right when he found his wallet in the mess of his bag, Eddie’s eyes went wide. Quickly, he paid the cab driver. “Keep the change, thank you!”

Climbing the few steps to their house was the equivalent of trying to reach the top of a mountain in Richie’s case. Eddie remembered the first time he ever came home with Richie. Still weak from his injury, Richie carried him inside, bridal style. Richie did so much for him, and now it was time he returned the favor. As he held Richie tightly with one arm around his waist, he encouraged his ill boyfriend until they were in the house.

Briefly having difficulty with the lock, Richie ran through the kitchen, knowing that Eddie abhorred the idea of vomiting in a place where they ate. As soon as he reached the bathroom, Richie fell to his knees, clutching the toilet, vomiting.

His legs shaking, Eddie took a deep breath. In the midst of studying and working, Eddie also found a window to see a therapist. Throughout his sessions, he talked all about his childhood, his mother lying to him about his illness, and his own battles with anxiety. As one of his goals, Eddie started to conquer his fear of germs so he could be happier. With himself and in his relationship with Richie.

Feeling a soft hand rub against his back while he coughed hoarsely, Eddie removed Richie’s glasses to prevent them from slipping off his nose. “Don’t hold back, Rich, just let it all out,” Eddie encouraged him. “I’m right here.”

Taking deep breaths in through his mouth, Richie kept his eyes shut tight, waiting to see if it all stopped. Everything hurt. His fingers that gripped the toilet, his back and his stomach hurt terribly. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this sick, even when he was a kid.

All he could see were the nightmare images of faces of the disgusted fans as he kept his eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t have to look at the mess swirling around in the water in front of him.

Ripping off a piece of toilet paper, Eddie flushed the toilet, helped Richie stand, and brought him over to the sink. “Here, brush your teeth, and rinse,” Eddie instructed him. His heart fell looking at his pale face.

Richie swished the water throughout every corner of his mouth, getting rid of that foul taste. His stomach felt better, but knowing that it wouldn’t for long made Richie dread the rest of the day. It was still early afternoon. All he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside a hole.

“Wash your hands good,” Eddie told him, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.

Richie was able to think up a funny comeback through his foggy mind. He thought about pretending to spit the water in Eddie’s direction, but he had no energy to turn his neck. Besides, Eddie would have a fit. “Sure thing, dad.”

Eddie gave him a warning look, though he smiled, relieved that Richie was joking. A good sign, at least.

Going into the bedroom, Eddie immediately removed his sweat-soaked shirt, throwing it into the hamper. Just when he was about to bend down, Richie groaned, grasping his aching back. He always had back problems due to a rough fall he took. The next few hours weren’t going to be fun.

Once Richie was dressed in something more comfortable, Eddie tucked him under the blankets of their bed. Then he furiously went all over the place getting Richie water and a separate glass of ginger ale as he took Richie’s temperature. He practically brought out the whole medicine cabinet. And then he wet a towel and rubbed it over Richie’s head to bring his fever down.

“How’d you find out?” Richie barely had the energy to speak. He was about to talk with the thermometer in his mouth, but again Eddie would have a fit.

Living with a germaphobe wasn’t easy at times. If he coughed, Eddie rushed to get him some cough medicine. Or if he sneezed without using a tissue, Eddie came in from the other room to give him a stock load of tissues. It’s not like Richie was complaining. He never had anyone to take care of him until now.

“I saw online,” Eddie answered, bending a straw so Richie could take a small sip of water. This morning was so hectic that looking back it felt like a week ago. Before the car gave him trouble, he made it to the auto shop. Who knows when they’d get it back. He was able to get in some study time at the library, but not much. Eddie worked in a little store. Because everyone was at the big show, there wasn’t a lot of business today.

Curiously, he saw fans talking about the incident on Twiter. Yes, Richie convinced him to get a Twitter. The instant he watched the video of his own boyfriend throwing up on the stage almost made him have a panic attack. At first, he didn’t think he was going to be able to leave, but his boss let him go under the warning that he had to pick up a shift.

“I am so mad that Steve didn’t call me! You get sick and he just decided to keep you there!” Eddie ranted off as he fluffed Richie’s pillow for him.

“It’s online?” Richie uttered, closing his eyes in dismay.

Eddie’s face broke. That’s right, Richie didn’t know. “Oh, Rich,” Eddie cooed, lightly putting his hand on his stomach, rubbing it in a nice massage to make his boyfriend feel better. “I was so busy this morning. I feel like this is all my fault. You know I would never have let you go to that show, right?”

Richie turned away on his side. No, he was not mad at Eddie, just with himself. He didn’t want him to see the tears. He felt so rotten. So embarrassed. So sick.

It was over. His entire career was over.

“I’ll let you sleep, Rich,” Eddie told him, rubbing his side. “Get some rest. I’m going to be in the other room if you need me, okay?”

Richie was already out like a light in a few minutes. Carefully, Eddie took off his glasses and put them on the nightstand.

Washing his hands good and clean, Eddie felt like crying. How could he let this happen? He was supposed to look after his boyfriend. Not let him go on stage and humiliate himself like that. Guilty, Eddie should have been there. Then Richie wouldn’t have had to stay in that compact room on that uncomfortable couch.

Going into the little office space Richie made up just for him, Eddie tried to concentrate on getting some work done. He had to finish an essay, a test was coming up within the week, and he had to read a whole chapter in the textbook.

Sighing, this felt wrong. This was his boyfriend. It felt so wrong to be in two separate rooms. When he was recovering from his own injury, or if he ever got sick, Richie stuck to him like glue. Eddie found it annoying at the time, but now that their roles reversed, he was so thankful for Richie always being by his side.

Richie needed him. Making up space in their bedroom, Eddie worked on whatever homework he needed to get done while tending to Richie at the same time.

“I’m right here, Richie,” he whispered to his love as he slept.

Chapter Text

Hoping that Richie would at least get a good night’s sleep, he woke up three times complaining about bad dreams and them vomiting into the toilet. All Eddie wanted was for this nightmare to be over. He wanted Richie to constantly annoy him and talk his ear off just like he always did. Richie was so sick that he couldn’t utter a word. Seeing him look so down was the worst.
“Relax, Rich, you’re getting it all out, just breathe,” Eddie soothed, smoothing a hand over his back upon racing into the bathroom again. It was a quarter to three in the morning. After trying to breathe, Richie felt another round of bile in his throat. His whole body tensed making Eddie hold him tighter.

And then he let go.

Everything let go.

Oh no... shit.

Richie was beside himself with guilt and embarrassment as Eddie cleaned him up. Still terrified of the nightmare that he just had, and his fever making everything worse, Richie sobbed. Thick loud sobs that broke Eddie’s heart to pieces.

Everything hurt. His stomach, his back, and his head. He also felt horrible because Eddie loyally stayed up to make sure that he had everything that he needed. Eddie already dealt with enough.

“Shh, sweetie, it was just an accident,” Eddie reassured his boyfriend once he put on clean jammie bottoms and then tucked him back under the covers. “Take deep breaths. You’re just sick.”

“Sleep here?” Richie whimpered through the tears, grasping his hand. The face that he made at Eddie was so heartbreaking that he almost started to cry. “Please?”

Previously, Eddie went and slept on the couch, awakening to Richie’s screams. That felt so wrong of him to do. Whenever he was sick Richie just flat out remarked that he didn’t care and slept right next to Eddie making him feel safe.

Eddie rubbed a cold washcloth over Richie’s face. Slowly, Richie’s eyes began to close, staring up at his face to make sure that Eddie was there. “I’m here, Rich. And I am not going anywhere,” Eddie assured him. And he did just that, watching him sleep.

The last time Eddie ever took care of someone was his mother when she was dying from liver cancer. He went with her to the hospital when the doctors told them the diagnosis. He agreed to let her stay with him and Myra because she couldn’t take care of herself. While he helped her with medication, cleaned her, and stayed by her side when she was dying, Myra never did anything.

Quite ironic when she was a helicopter if he even dared as sniffled. Myra snapped into a frenzy, locking him in their bedroom and avoiding him. She kept him in there for a couple of days. Eddie would have escaped out the window, but he didn’t. He wanted to.

It was so suffocating to live with Myra. After thinking about the fifteen years when they were together, Eddie had no idea how he got through it. Every night when they crawled into bed, Myra wrapped her arms around him so he wouldn’t go anywhere. And the vile way she spoke to him.

These last six months with Richie were the best. Richie let him be his own person. He was patient. And he loved him. Eddie felt so free.

Without any fear, Eddie kissed Richie’s sweaty forehead. He didn’t even stir. Holding his hand, Eddie hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Richie taught him that there was nothing to fear about germs. He was brought up to act like all germs were deadly, paralyzing him in sheer fear.

Getting into bed with his boyfriend, Eddie leaned his head in the crook of Richie’s neck and wrapped an arm around his waist holding him close. Although he was asleep, Richie knew that he was there, smiling lightly. And that’s what he was going to do. Protect his boyfriend.

---

The very next morning, Richie’s eyes cracked open. His body ached but it was not as bad as yesterday. At least his stomach had finally settled. Trying to move he winced from the ache in his back. Back problems were no stranger in the last month.

Feeling the sun hit his eyes, Richie started to wake up more. His blurry eyesight was no help as he tried to locate where his glasses were on the nightstand. His hand bumped into objects, even dipping it into a bowl of water by accident. How many first aid supplies to Eddie have?

“Good morning, sleepy-head!” Eddie greeted him. He helped him put on his glasses. Seeing Eddie was the most wonderful sight. It was like seeing an angel. Dark bags surrounded his eyes but he was pretty chipper to see that Richie was awake.

“Hi,” Richie answered, his voice rusty. He still felt weak to speak but at least he no longer felt nauseous.

“I thought you were going to try to break Rip Van Wrinkle’s record. It’s almost noon,” Eddie told him, brushing Richie’s crazed hair out of his eyes. Oh, if only he could see what he looked like in the mirror.

Richie stretched a bit, yawning, and grunting from the pain in his back. Eddie relaxed him putting a hand on his shoulder. Smacking his lips together, that fermenting taste was still present.

“Want to sit up? Here, let’s get you out of that shirt,” Eddie advised, slowly helping his boyfriend sit up from the pillows.

“Oh, you’ve missed me?” Richie teased as Eddie placed another pillow behind his back so he could sit up. Richie’s entire shirt was sweat-soaked that it was damp. And he smelled like a wet dog.

Turning up his nose at the smell, Eddie gave him a sponge bath. “You’re going to have to take a real shower later.” That didn’t stop him from getting lost in Richie’s body. It had been so long since they really spent any time together. Richie enjoyed the soft sponge around his body making him feel cool. It was safe to say that he felt a significant difference from when he first work up yesterday morning.

Yesterday. He didn’t even want to think about that. Oh, he couldn’t bear to look at his phone to see the disappointing messages. When he first started as a comedian he was hit with some negativity here and there. But this, vomiting all over the stage in front of an audience was the worst. Ronnie was going to get her revenge in some way and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Are you working today?” Richie asked his boyfriend after he took his temperature. It was down to 99.1. A small fever. That was good, at least. Eddie was worried that he’d have to take Richie to the E.R. if he got any worse.

“No, I called in. Mr. Crosby said that he is happy to give me as much time off as I need,” Eddie told him, moving the covers back up on Richie. A tray of all his textbooks and notebooks stood in the corner of the room. Eddie must have a test or an essay on Monday. Eddie was so good to him.

“Good, you need to relax, babe,” Richie told him, smoothing a hand along his arm. He opened his arms indicating for a cuddle. Eddie smiled at the gesture, but instead, he tenderly patted Richie’s legs through the bedsheets.

“Maybe later. Do you want to try eating anything? I can make you some toast,” Eddie suggested.

For the rest of the day, Richie spent relaxing or dosing off to a little nap. He got up a couple of times in order to move his stiff legs around. He leaned all his weight against Eddie that they could have tumbled over.

Instead, he was mostly bed-ridden so he could get his energy back. As he watched a little TV or slept, Eddie stayed in the room attending to his studies. His stomach settled back to normal. Never in his life would he wish to experience how sick he was.

When he woke up again, Eddie was not sitting in the corner. From the kitchen, he smelled soup. Richie loved Eddie’s soup. How could that ex-wife of his never appreciate anything that Eddie did for her? Richie looked at the nightstand which was filled with so much clutter. His cell phone sat near the edge, charging.

Without turning it on, Richie knew that his career was over. Steve was never going to work for him again. Fans were angry at him for what they had to be of witness to. And who knows what Ronny was doing to make a fool out of him.

Out in the hallway, he heard Eddie’s cell phone ringing. It had to be Myra. Would she ever leave him alone?

“Hi Steve,” Eddie answered. Oh no, this was it. “Thank you, yes, he’s feeling better but he still has some recovery to do. Maybe he can talk to you later.” There was a pause until Eddie said. “You want to tell him what?... Oh, well I don’t know how he is going to take that but I will be sure to let him know.”

No. His whole career flushed down the toilet. For his entire life ever since he moved out to L.A. when he was eighteen he worked so hard to get where he was. He loved being a comedian. It was all he ever wanted to be. And now he let everybody down. He let himself down.

He let Eddie down.

“Richie?” Eddie’s voice was worried. He had been sitting up in bed with his head in his hands, crying. Circling a comforting hand around his back, Eddie lightly pushed Richie to his chest so he could gently rock him. “What’s the matter? Feelin’ okay?”

“It’s over...”

“What’s over?”

“My career! Steve just called you, right?” Richie asked him, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“No, no, sweetie, that’s not what Steve was calling to say,” Eddie assured him, brushing a hand through his knotted curly hair.

Feeling a ray of hope, Richie picked his head up, so he could look at his boyfriend. “What was he calling to tell me?”

Unable to stand seeing Richie in tears, Eddie wiped the tears away with a tissue. “He told me that fans are posting get well messages to you. And Ronny actually tweeted something about you. Steve really said that you should take a look at it.”

Starting up his phone, Richie logged onto his Twitter account. He was tagged in over fifty tweets! Eddie leaned against him, hugging his shoulders in whatever support he could give him.

He clicked on the video that Ronny uploaded this morning.

“‘Hey all, It’s Ronny. I know this video is going to be very different from how I normally chew people out but this time, I want to be serious. I’m sure that everyone caught the Comedian Face-Off performance yesterday. There, I wad vomited all over by Richie Tozier.’”

Richie gulped, preparing himself for the insults.

“‘I know that what Richie did was an accident. Vomiting on-stage or anywhere is no picnic. In fact, it happened to me when I got onstage for the first time in a talent show when I was thirteen,” she giggled at the memory. “Oh boy, was I humiliated! But, what I am trying to say is don’t be hard on him. Richie Tozier, I hope you feel better. But don’t take this is a free card for me to start being nice on you,” she smiled, pointing at the camera. “Prepare for a rematch. Later, guys!”

To his surprise, Richie went through tons of posts from his fans telling him to feel better and sharing their own humiliating vomit moments.

‘“I can totally feel for Richie. I wish I could reverse what happened to me in class. Feel better, Richie!”

“‘You’re not alone, Richie. I was helping my friend with a magic show, and let’s just say I messed up the show - very messily. Looking forward to your next show, Rich!”

‘“For years I was ashamed that I got sick in front of a restaurant. Richie, you are not alone. I hope you get better. Please, make this a funny story ibn your act!”

Richie smiled so big as he read each tweet. Little did he know that Eddie was watching him, fondly. It was at that moment he realized how little time they’d spent together. Eddie had been so busy with his studies, working, and trying to put his divorce with Myra to an end, that he forgot about his most prized treasure. Richie. Had it really only been six months since they’d been together?

“I think someone is feeling better,” Eddie pointed out, giving Richie’s arm a tight squeeze. He even planted a kiss right on his shoulder.

Setting his phone aside, Richie curled up with Eddie into the pillows for some long overdue cuddling. As much as he loved performing he needed to give himself a break so he could spend more time with his boyfriend. His boyfriend.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Richie said, and he meant it. He had spent so much time taking care of Eddie in the beginning when he first moved in with him. Because of the injury, Eddie could barely walk around. Slowly, he regained his strength because Richie never let him give in, even when he was ready to give in, admitting that he could never walk again.

Come to think of it, this was the first time in years that Richie had someone to take care of him. All the nights he spent miserably vomiting or had a nasty cold, or even a horrible headache - he was alone. Nobody to take of him. Or hold.

Eddie touched his hand tenderly, kissing it against his soft lips. He noticed that the man was avoiding his eyes, almost looking sad.

“What’s the matter? You’re not getting sick too are you?” Richie asked him. He knew how Eddie felt about germs.

“No, no,” Eddie told him, shaking his head. “I just... can’t lose you.”

“Lose me? Who says you’re going to lose me?” Richie asked moving closer. He attempted to smile. “You know how hard it is getting rid of me.”

Eddie finally met his eyes, tears surrounding the corners. “I thought you weren’t going to make it through the night.”

“Aw, Eds...” They cuddled together with Eddie’s head resting on Richie’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was so thankful that he was getting better. A silent Richie who was too sick to even speak was the worst. They stayed in that position a little longer, enjoying being together, feeling one another’s soft flesh.

“I thought you didn’t want to get sick, Spaghetti-Eds,” Richie sniffed Eddie’s hair. That was all the medicine that he needed.

Eddie hugged him a little tighter. “I don’t care. I love you.”

Quiet, Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s head, softly patting his hair. He kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

The man’s nose twitched, pulling away from the embrace a bit. “But you stink!”

“Oh, what a way to ruin the moment!”

“You should take a shower now.”

“Can we take one together?” Richie pouted.

Eddie dipped down to kiss his forehead. “Yes.”

“And then can we cuddle more after?”

Eddie snuggled up with him again. “Anything you want.”

“I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, Trashmouth.”