The Losers
Now wasn't really the time to think about how an angry Eddie was kind of a hot Eddie, but it wasn't like Richie had ever really been able to stop the shit that popped up unto his brain. He was only lucky, that in this instance, it was fleeting thing, gone as soon as it arrived. Not because it wasn't true (it was. Also, Eddie was always hot), but because nothing felt very sexy when he was covered head to toe in blood.
Fuck this place.
"Yeah," Rich said, smiling bright (teeth flashing white, the only thin on him that wasn't stained red) at the Eddie shaped red blob in front of him, "Peachy fucking keen, Spagheds. A shitty hotel on it's period isn't gonna scare me." He was scared. But he wasn't going to admit it, not with Eddie rushing into shit angry. Not when he could pretend he was brave instead. He tightened his grip on Eddie's hand and the elevator pinged open, offering a hallway that felt strangely mediocre in comparison to the previous rush of blood.