The Losers
There wasn't much that kept Richie quiet for too long, but abject horror kinda tended to do him in. He could offer a joke or two, but when it came down to it, his jaw sort of ended up clenching and he preferred to bury his face in some (any) part of Eddie and try to let it all pass around him.
He hated it, though. And he was getting tired of it, of being soaked in gray water, dirt, blood. The only thing that made this remotely okay right now was that the blood he was currently wearing wasn't Eddie's this time. And because of that, when Eddie asked for the key, and then backtracked somewhat, Richie steeled himself and pulled the key from his pocket.
"It's a doorway, numbnuts," he said, squaring up in front of the door it was meant to open. "No one walks through two at a time. I'll go first." Like fucking hell was he going to let Eddie take point and be vulnerable to whatever was inside that room. He pushed the key in the lock, and it took two tries because he was vibrating -- or maybe just trembling -- and then turned it before pushing the door wide open.
And there, instead of a room full of more blood and ghosts and killer clowns or whatever the fuck, was the room full of other Doors. The town. At least, that's what it looked like to him, but then, he'd given up on his glasses and everything was a blur. "Eds?" He asked for confirmation, quiet.