[ @wanderingcarver Continued from Here (Because I’m awful lmao)]
As the larger troll started to speak, Richie couldn’t help smiling. Okay, good, it was a friend. Someone he could trust, as much as one could trust while slowly bleeding out. But.. What was he saying? Everything was slower then it should be as he tried to focus on his large friend.
Sudden motions happening in what seemed to be a blink of an eye caused the teal to twist and gasp in pain. The wounds weren’t as deep as they should be if someone wanted him dead, but they also weren’t shallow either. His right side the victim of what appears to be three in and a few missing, maybe the attacker took it with them? Or perhaps they just stabbed a few times before leaving in. His chest rising and falling at slow but shallow speeds as he tries to merely focus on that. Even as his ribs scream for the pressure to leave, desperate to fully extend.
Richie isn’t clueless though, as he makes sure to keep his movements as still as possible to avoid the knives injuring him further. The bruising that had started was more then enough, even if it was just the surface level pains.
Idly, he nods. Doing as told is easy when... When what? When you’re dying? He as dying, wasn’t he? Over some dumb story he shouldn’t have had his nose in. Gods, Fonzie was gonna be so mad at him. The thought and internal rambling caused Richie to laugh lowly.
What does it say what does it say? Groaning in agony when finally quinting no longer helps to see the screen, Richie rolls over and screams softly into his pillow.
How was he to talk to someone? To ANYONE? No one knows what’s happening apart from mom, and he didn’t want to worry anyone else by her. Though her threat sat heavy in his mind, he knew she wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it until he was ready to come to terms with it.
Still didn’t stop him from crying for a little. Crying then... Well, standing up slowly to slowly march his way to the bathroom. He has lived in this house his WHOLE damn life. He knows how to find things.
Turning around on Fonzies bed, the teal blinks slowly. Hmm... It seemed like he was still tired, for the world wouldn’t come into focus! The colors of the familiar floating about his vision, and vague shapes connecting to form his moirails room. Throwing his arm over his eyes, Richie groans in displeasure. He thought he slept pretty well! He even woke up in time to have a good breakfast!
Oh well, he’ll just laze about until the sleep leaves him. Yeah... That seems like a solid plan. Anyways! Who would want to leave this warm bed? Or the fact it smells like Richies sparking boyfriend? Whom, probably, was already out with his many girls. How good of him to keep them in mind...
...
...
...
After an hour, Richie opened his eyes and found that less and less of the shapes were forming. Colors dimmed, the world became blurrier. As the realization sunk in, that this sleepy wasn’t from being tired, but his eyes starting to fail, Rich’s heart pounded wildly as he lay still. The thundering, rhythmic, startling loud sound drowning out anything from the outside world as his mind raced a mile a minute. Terror, simple as is, dug into his soul, and had him standing up with more aggression then he planned, hunting down his clothes that he stripped from the light prior.
Where where where--there! There’s the blue! Grabbing it, Rich was stunned for a second to realize it’s Fonzies. Shit... Eyes darting around to try and find the other shirt, the teal groans before sliding on the form fitting shirt. It was, admittedly, nice to have his rails clothes on, but that didn’t help the raging fear bubbling within.
Dammit...
After securing his pants, and double checking they’re on right, Richie fumbly runs down the stairs. Food! Food food food. Maybe having something to eat would help him keep from getting over the top. Maybe he’s wrong! Unlikely, but maybe! Even so, he’s hungry regardless, so filling his stomach would be nice. Help calm his feverish nerves, and swallow the anger that has started clawing its way up through him at his situation.
Stupid... Stupid stupid stupid--
No! That’s not the way to think! Walking into the kitchen, Richie had to pause to cool his nerves. Mom could read him like a book, and he didn’t want that just yet. And he could HEAR the clinking of her cooking, and boy hell that smelled amazing. Though, he needed to change, he couldn’t make it past her before she was calling to him.
“Richard? Honey, could you be a dear and help set up the table?”
“Oh, yeah, of course mom.”
“Thank you sweetie.”
Inhale. Exhale. At least she didn’t notice--
“And you look absolutely splendid in that shirt, Fonzie’s taste looks wonderful on you.”
Dammit. “Thank you mom.” Awkward smile, and no eye contact, Richie sets off to do as asked, moving more on autopilot then looking. Which, apparently, was good enough as Mrs C made no comment on it if it was wrong. Sitting with her as the two ate, everyone else being out, Richie tried to keep his eyes downturned. Swallowing hurting as his throat felt like sandpaper.
“So...” His heart stopped. “When are you going to tell me you’re going blind?” Fuck. Shit fuck... Placing his fork down and flinching when he hears it clink on the floor after a minute of him letting go. Must have just missed the table... Swallowing the dread blocking his voice, he smiles. “It just started. I thought, perhaps, it won’t last.” He said.
“Do you plan on telling the others?” Her voice was smooth, soothing. Calculating.
“... When I have to.” His own was shaking, tumbling over his tongue laced with doubt.
“I expect it by the end of the day, or I will.” She said, and he could almost see her stern look, and he couldn’t help flinching. Not because he felt he was in trouble, or that she was mad. But because of the worry he was bringing her.
Call it a moirails instinct, call it best friend understanding, but whatever it was the compelled Richie to leave in the middle of the day was obviously tuned into Fonzies Dumb Idea’s. Heavy cloak covered him as he rushed to Arnolds, eyes blurry from a sleep woken from in a sudden surge of “Somethings wrong”, he saw the goons rush from the place.
God dammit.
Snapping awake as realization, or in Richie’s case, the worse What If’s, set in, the teal ran forward with a blinding need to make sure Fonzie was okay. Richie knew he stayed here late--hell most everyone knew The Fonz stayed here late with his dates. Why...
As he entered, he was greeted by a gruesome sight. Eyes wide, skin paling, as he searched for his diamond among the bodies and colors. Instead, he only found a trail. Fresh, hot, reeking of aggression... It had to be..
Racing over everything, and trying to not slip in his sudden panic, Rich almost breaks down the bathroom door to see if his ‘rail was there. And what he found had his stomach lurching for only a second. It could have been worse, he thinks to himself as he all but slides onto the ground and wraps the warmer troll in the cloak. Eyes watering as he reaches for the phone.
The phone was only grazed, choosing instead to fall to the ground and clatter as Rich watches Fonzie, eyes blurred and hand on his head to feel him still there, finally he makes the call.
“Hello? Police? I need help at Arnolds, please hurry there was a fight! Please, Fonzie’s hurt--he’s been shot!”
