The Losers
After everything they'd been through in their actual lives Eddie would've thought that he and Richie deserved a break. They deserved a little down time to just relax, huddle together, and be happy in their relationship. They deserved to not open a door and walk into a murder hotel or be faced with a demon Pomeranian. The door to a possible beach vacation should've just been a door to a fucking beach vacation. Life just seemed to hate them. So much.
Little things about it weren't that bad. The hypotheticals. The idea of a little girl with his eyes and Richie's sense of humor was actually pretty cute. Impossible but cute. "The extra letters are fucking silent, Tozier!" He insisted. "Pronunciation won't be the problem. Spelling will be the big fucking problem." Just all the extra letters and where the hell he planner to fit them in or arrange them so they flowed because he couldn't be Kasbprak-Tozier-XYZ since there was a Z in their last name already. He'd figure it out. Once they made it through here he was going to find paper and a pen.
Thoughts like that were going to keep him moving. The idea of having this conversation again later and annoying the fuck out of Richie with it would give him something to work towards. Something brighter and a little more hopeful because it involved their future together. Not the child, of course, (she was imaginary and hypothetical) but the last name and the idea of marriage. It would keep him going because, apparently, Richie really wanted them to be murdered by whatever was lurking behind in that fucking room.
"A free knife is a free-" He stopped, smile disappearing from his face as literal waves of blood rushed out of the elevator towards them. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He took a step back, eyes impossibly wide as he grabbed onto Richie's arm in an attempt to pull him away. To run. This was hell. His own personal hell. A fussy hotel with horrible guest security and tons of blood.