You would drive all the way to Canada to marry a drunken hook-up?
( Eddie can't help shooting a glance as he asks, blinking curiously but ultimately offering a small smile as his look returns to their similar scars. It's honestly something of a shock but he tries not to let it show on his face as he traces his finger along Richie's own scar before realizing that might just be a fucking weird thing to do and pulling back with a hard swallow. )
Something that happened when I was a kid, you know? I never really thought about it even though when I do sometimes— when I think about my childhood too much, it hurts.
( And then without missing a beat: ) Don't call me that.
( Which almost knocks the fucking air out of his lungs as he reels back slightly and blinks before shaking his head. ) Fucking tell me about. I just angry and yell and just keep fucking chattering my head off.
That's a question for eighteen-year-old Richie, which I am not. I can only guess I had all the charisma of a bull in china shop. What I do remember, I don't remember with any, pride, but uh- it worked for you, right?
[It's an indirect jab at the inherent comedy of their whole situation. Richie's not sure why but he's compelled to hold onto the side of his glasses, to keep them fixed on his face.
Yeah... too much thought about his childhood felt the same, in a sick twisted churning sort of way that felt like it could gobble him up. Fear, and nausea, and so much more blended into a lot of confusion. He'd considered hypnotherapy briefly in his late twenties but he gave that idea up the minute he realized exactly how much he might say.]
Why? Not a fan of nicknames? [That's peculiar, the familiarity of it and how easily he slips into the crooked smile on his face now.] Yeah, I could see that. You seem like a bossy bottom, I guess.
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respirations) wrote2020-02-13 09:47 pm
no subject
( Eddie can't help shooting a glance as he asks, blinking curiously but ultimately offering a small smile as his look returns to their similar scars. It's honestly something of a shock but he tries not to let it show on his face as he traces his finger along Richie's own scar before realizing that might just be a fucking weird thing to do and pulling back with a hard swallow. )
Something that happened when I was a kid, you know? I never really thought about it even though when I do sometimes— when I think about my childhood too much, it hurts.
( And then without missing a beat: ) Don't call me that.
( Which almost knocks the fucking air out of his lungs as he reels back slightly and blinks before shaking his head. ) Fucking tell me about. I just angry and yell and just keep fucking chattering my head off.
no subject
[It's an indirect jab at the inherent comedy of their whole situation. Richie's not sure why but he's compelled to hold onto the side of his glasses, to keep them fixed on his face.
Yeah... too much thought about his childhood felt the same, in a sick twisted churning sort of way that felt like it could gobble him up. Fear, and nausea, and so much more blended into a lot of confusion. He'd considered hypnotherapy briefly in his late twenties but he gave that idea up the minute he realized exactly how much he might say.]
Why? Not a fan of nicknames? [That's peculiar, the familiarity of it and how easily he slips into the crooked smile on his face now.] Yeah, I could see that. You seem like a bossy bottom, I guess.