― open post.

[respirations]

EDDIE KASPBRAK it: chapter 2 voice strength: ★★★★★ shipping: i'm reddie trash but i'm also all about that platonic love with the other losers preferences: gen, smut, shippy, angst, au, cross-canon, slice of life. notes: for some fun starting points: some random assortment of memes and aus for days; feel free to go the other worldly route; also throw pics or random sentences at me and a kink generator because why not. hit me up for starters if you'd like. there's no crying in baseball but there is crying in my rp but let's have fun, ok. picture prompts • quote prompts • music prompts • etc

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[respirations]

❪ nightmares have become so commonplace that they're almost familiar at this point.

eddie expects them, falls asleep still dreading them though. it's always the same thing— they're in that cavern below the sewers fighting it. they're scattered, richie gets caught in the deadlights and he spears the bastard through his stupid fucking mouth.

everything should be great now, dandy but it isn't. he's sitting over richie, smiling and laughing and then suddenly there's blood all over richie. his blood. sometimes the nightmares play out as they did in real life: he's thrown down deeper into the cavern, he's bleeding out but sometimes it's different. sometimes the monster rips him in two, sometimes it stabs richie instead, sometimes it stabs both of them. sometimes they all die down there instead of just him.

but he didn't die, did he? no— he's alive, breathing and presently kicking as another dream shocks him awake with a wheezed gasp. he's hyperventilating, literally been scared awake and he's having to fumble in the dark to get the nightstand open and his inhaler out. a few needy breaths in and he dissolves into a fit of coughs which wouldn't be an issue aside from the hole in his chest that they only just got the stitches out of.

god— he was a fucking mess. ❫

[sloppybitch]

[It always happens in the dead of night, in complete silence and blackness just like Pennywise preferred. Eddie's nightmares have been getting worse and more frequent, steadily like clockwork piercing through the veil of what they were trying to build together. Richie had tried many times to coax Eddie into a discussion about him, to quell his concerns, similar dreams plagued him every so often but when his mind was at its weakest, in the comfort of sleep, things took nasty turns and there wasn't much either of them could do about it.

When Eddie starts up, Rich is already sitting up in bed, watching him with dismay as he remedies the fit of coughs with the albuterol inhaler.]

You okay, Eds?

[Even with his voice still thick from sleep himself Rich is already at his side, an arm over his shoulders for support. Anything to let Eddie know he was still there, and what they had between them was still real. Whatever was causing the dreams weren't as real as he was.]

[respirations]

❪ once again, the miserable inn. he isn't sure where bev picked up the skill but eddie is grateful for her talents behind the bar counter. not that he's currently in the company of the other losers currently. no, currently, eddie is spitting blood in sink of richie's bathroom. he wasn't going back to his room, after all. like hell he'd walk back in there not after he was attacked in there and certainly not with bower's blood (and his blood) still all over the bathroom.

no, he's more content (or as content as eddie can ever be) in his current state. spitting blood, cursing silently at the pain and knocking back more of the drink that bev had so kindly made for him despite her reservations. it burns, more than he cares for but he lets the alcohol sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, his body shuddering at the taste of hard alcohol and blood mixed together. he grimaces at himself in the mirror before slowly, once more, beginning to work on applying the antiseptic to the wound on his face. as if that would help. god only knew what had been on that damn knife and now— ❫

Fucking shit— ow! ❪ his fingers graze over a particularly tender part of torn skin as he clutches at his face, stomping from side to side in some pent up gesture to keep himself from yelling.

it's not exactly something he wants richie to see because, of course, rich is in here with him. they've been drifting closer and closer together since meeting up again in the restaurant just like when they had been kids. just like when they had been—

immediately, eddie shakes his head. he couldn't think about his stray, blurry thoughts right now. not when he had a damn hole in his face and the reason for said stabbing was still on the loose. it still pisses him off though; all these stray thoughts just out of reach and blurry as shit. ones of him and richie, ones that leave his heart racing and just knowing that he should remember but finding them just out of reach. yeah, it's definitely pissing him off but he has to keep himself focused. ❫

[beepbeepboy]

[ this whole expedition is bullshit. richie keeps vacillating between walking out the door and keeping himself where he is because what the fuck, there's a fucking clown on the loose and he'd really hoped it was all just a bad dream that he could leave behind.

but these are his friends. his real friends, not those phony ones that hang around because he's made a name for himself, because they saw him in a movie and now they think he's something to be claimed. even with the fog in his brain richie can at least remember each of the losers and why they were important to him.

at least - kind of. ]

Be careful, [ he admonishes unnecessarily, hovering behind eddie and trying to figure out what to do with his hands. he's not good at this stuff, doesn't know how to comfort and reassure, doesn't know how to help in a way that doesn't involve a joke. ] Jesus -

[ there's this weird feeling of frustration in his chest, almost like he feels guilty for not protecting eddie. it's not his fault bowers came back. it wasn't him who asked them all to return to this bullshit town. why should he feel bad about any of this?

but every time he turns to run, that feeling comes back. every time he looks at eddie, that feeling comes back. ]

Sit down, man, c'mon - [ he finally moves to take control of the situation, grasping eddie's arms and attempting to seat the other man on the toilet lid. ] You're gonna make it worse like that.

[respirations]

❪ dying really isn't all that it's cracked up to be. there isn't any warm white light at the end of a tunnel and he, in fact, feels nothing but a sickening chill. all the warmth is leaving him but that makes sense when you're literally bleeding out in some damn sewer cavern from literal hell. somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware of the other losers and of hugging richie's jacket to his wound. by the time rich leaves him, he's fading fast and there's a pang of fear in the loneliness. he's dying, he'll die alone―

but he doesn't.

instead, eddie wakes up under bright lights and he sound of a heart monitor. weakly, he blinks a few times before flexing his fingers under the covers and then shifts the rest of his body. there's a lot of regret in the motion, pain swelling up but he manages to tilt his head just enough to see the rest of the room. white, clean and almost sickening so but his focus lingering on the bright loop of red around his finger.

richie is okay and he feels a tidal wave of emotion hit him like a fucking freight train. in the haze of blood loss, he had been so afraid of any of the others being hurt like him or worse. they all had to be alright though, right? he considers patting around for his phone or hitting the call nurse button but ultimately goes another route, a more simple route and tugs back on his hand weakly to give the red thread an equally weak tug. hopefully, he thinks, it'll be enough for rich to feel. ❫

[beavertrap]

[ Richie thought he knew what pain was. Rejection and loneliness, the pain of hiding who he really was and playing the "trashmouth" he was always so good at being. Getting what attention he could. It was all various levels of pain, some handled better than others with age. Derry, of course, brought all of these memories and then some back to the surface. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol to deal with any of it.

Especially when that damn red thread came back. As bright and vibrant as ever. It had been like twisting the knife in once again after he had managed to sort of patch that wound. Stan's loss was like another knife had been added to the mix and he just wanted to run away from all of it.

But then Eddie acknowledged the red thread between them, bravely taking that step Richie had been too chickenshit to even all these years later.

They decided to stay. Finish it so they could have some kind of life together afterward instead of forgetting the other again.

And then Richie discovered a pain that he never knew was possible. He finally found his soulmate only for him to be stabbed in front of him, tasting Eddie's blood after it sprayed onto his face. Pain that rain through his own blood, into his limbs and bones once the shock wore off. The red thread seemed to keep fading as they moved Eddie, Rich begging him the whole time to hold on. He couldn't leave them after all this.

He couldn't just leave him.

He barely remembers arriving at the hospital. Just his legs giving out and not able to get off of the floor as Bill and Mike tried to explain what happened. Bev and Ben kept trying to keep him from passing out right there. He remembers keeping his eyes on the red thread as it stretched out, Eddie being wheeled into the OR. He watched it grow faint and then come back through the blood and muck on his broken glasses, his chest throbbing with his heart stuttering and feeling like every breath was too hard to manage.

He doesn't remember being given the sedative. Just that when he woke up, the fear had returned in full force until he was told Eddie was alive. He was in ICU but it was possible he would make a recovery. Weeks passed and he was finally in a room of his own, Richie spending more time there than Eddie's wife. No one had called her. She came on her own and sounded too much like the other's mom, threatening them with lawsuits. Richie clenched his jaw shut and refused to look at her. For once in his life, he kept his mouth shut.

All that mattered was Eds waking up again. If he could just be given that, he'd... let the other shit go. It was a familiar ache that he had to swallow down, once again willing to let that love go if it was easier for the other man. He couldn't just come back and wreck his whole life because they suddenly remembered they were friends. And then some.

The other Losers were out getting lunch to bring back, Bev outside getting a smoke and Eddie's wife - he didn't even bother remembering her name, as petty as it was (and he knew it was) - was back at some hotel. He was sitting on the toilet lid in the bathroom, hands rubbing up and down his face, the exhaustion of so many nights of sleeping in a chair catching up with him more and more. He needed to keep taking these private moments for himself, trying not to break down crying again.

He feels the tug, however, weak, shoulders tensing up as he moves his hands to look at it. He looks at the door and puts his glasses back on before moving back out into the main room. Was he-- ]

Holy shit.

[ He was awake. Fuck. Don't throw up, Tozier. Or cry. But he could already feel the pressure behind his eyes. ]

leaves a terrible fucking prompt bc why not

[sloppybitch]

here, here, here, here, here

magics something hopefully reasonable together

[respirations]

❪ it's been a few months since they've had the chance to go out together. between his work and richie's touring, it seemed like time together was just impossible to figure out. they found other ways of being together even without physically being in the same room but eddie can't deny how much he misses having rich around him and, so, it's one night after one of his local shows that they decide to hang around downtown and visit a couple of local places.

it's early morning, eddie already yawning, when they happen to cross paths with someone who clearly wasn't a fan of a few things beyond rich's comedy. although after having to fight a demonic killer clown from literal space, ignoring homophobic jackasses was almost easy for him. he knows it's not so easy for rich, maybe if they had just stuck prodding at richie and his jokes and didn't bring him or their relationship into the picture.

by now, he's trying to urge richie to come on and leave but fuck― he should have figured it wouldn't be that simple. jackasses like this, like bowers. they're all the same.

so eddie can't say he's surprised when the first punch is thrown and it sails by, barely missing his face. he's already moving to put his arms around richie but he's taller, stronger and his own punch to the jersey wearing asshole makes a sickening sound. it's something of a haze after that between richie getting hit and him promptly losing his shit on the guy.

by the time things are said and done and cops are called, richie is bruised and his knuckles are bleeding while eddie sports his own bloody nose.

the uber home is quiet because what was there to say? he's not mad at rich but rather this entire situation. mad― because he's stemming the flow of blood from his nose on a night that was supposed to be... well, for the both of them. instead, he keeps quiet but keeps a tight if shaky grip on richie's hand. even as he fumbles for his keys, he keeps hold and finally manages to push the door open with a tired sound. ❫

Go sit down. I gotta grab my first aid kit...

[respirations]

— continued from here.

It's called a joke, Rich
Although would you have told me if we hadn't forgotten everything?

[comedyclubs]

eventually, yeah
i think so. some part of me was working up to it, before we forgot everything

a drive-by gift.

[sloppybitch]

***** some gifs to set the tone and make you smile.

[It had taken a week or two of careful planning, long conversations with his PR consultant and his manager about the details of the event and secret emails from his business account to the rest of the losers club and everyone was on board and in the know. Everyone, except Eddie, which despite surprises not being his favorite thing and Richie being more than aware was necessary this time.

The flight from California to Bora Bora was eight hours and Richie had spared no expense, they flew first class, the in-flight meal was exemplary and their drinks were free of charge. This helped because by the second hour Richie was getting antsy, the ring he'd spent too much on burning a hole in his carry on bag.

When they arrive in Bora Bora, something decided by Richie because Mexico was simply too close to be considered a vacation destination Richie is only now beginning to experience the change in timezones and jet lag. The sunrise is over the island casting pale hues of orange, crimson, and blue. The air is distinctly cleaner than back home. They're taken to a retreat hotel suite right off of the water, with an indoor jacuzzi, and huge bed, and all the amenities. The hotel attendants smile when they come in, and drape them with leis made of local botanical flowers. Everything is crisp, clean, and calm. As soon as they're left in their seaside paradise alone Richie wastes no time toeing out of his loafers, he goes face-first into the mattress the linens smell freshly cleaned and like some kind of soap he needs to know the name of. It relaxes him instantly.]

Oh my goooooooood.....

the most perfect gift for my birthday

[respirations]

❪ when they had originally brought up the idea of a vacation, it set in stone another idea for eddie. it helps that richie is being extra fucking weird and secretive because it gives him time get shit together for the trip. a trip which, to eddie's surprise (and he does hate surprises), includes a change in destination.

yet, he takes everything in stride and spends a lot of time making sure shit was in order packing wise because it helped him ignore his own nervous energy about a certain ring he had hidden inside about seven different boxes.

of course, ed can't help picking up on richie's own antsy nervous energy throughout the plane ride but he figures it might just be rich freaking out about air travel itself because god knows he was quietly freaking out. thankfully, he does manage some sleep by promptly passing out on rich's shoulder.

it helps to combat back some of the tiredness he feels on arrival to their destination. it's beautiful here, really and eddie probably spends too much time pointing shit out to richie excitedly. he grateful to arrive at the hotel though and sort of continues to excitedly beeline around to get a look and test shit out. really, it is all ridiculously nice.

watching his boyfriend belly flop onto the bed gets him chuckling as he kicks off his own shoes and comes over, falling beside rich and curling against his side just enough to easily press a kiss to the other's neck. ❫

And to think I was worried about the sheets not being comfy enough.

[respirations]

some visuals — one, two, three, four, five.

❪ it's sometime after noon and eddie is currently laid out on the couch, head in richie's lap and trying desperately not to even breathe least he disturb the sleeping baby on his chest. it feels like it's been days since she slept and he is not about to do a damn thing and possibly wake her up because, honestly, it's damn near insane how much work goes into someone so small. not that the pair of them hadn't been prepared— especially considering how much planning went into the decision to have a child but reading blogs, watching clips online and bothering bev and ben did little in the long run once she was actually born.

this was honestly the hardest work he's ever done but... he couldn't be happier or more in love. he loved her from the moment they heard her heart beating and he'll probably never stop letting that love grow more everyday. there really was just something amazing about the entire experience and he can't help smiling slightly as he glances down to the head full of dark messy curls. ❫

Sometimes I have to wonder if this is all just some crazy fever dream. ❪ he says, voice soft and tilting his head just enough to peek up at rich. ❫ Like I'll wake up one day and still be in that damn sewer.

[beavertrap]

[ Richie still remembers the day they got the news. He had thrown up in the doctor's sink. As much as he wanted to have a family with Eddie, the gravity of it hit him like a brick wall. But the longer they prepared themselves and absorbed everything they could by way of Parenting 101 (and bless Ben and Bev for being so patient with their questions), he grew less anxious about it all. Still nervous, still afraid he'd fuck it up somehow but as soon as they saw their daughter for the first time, heard her heartbeat, he knew he would do anything for her.

She slept a lot when they first got back from the hospital but it didn't last once she started opening her eyes - big and brown just like Eddie's - that she started being very vocal. At least they can safely say she gets it honestly.

It took a while for them to find out she enjoyed falling asleep on them as opposed to her crib. Richie would sometimes play games on the console while she used his stomach as a bed, keeping the volume low and restricting himself from being loud in any way (including cussing out other players). Slowly, they seemed to be getting used to each other and Rich has honestly never felt happier.

Looking over at Eddie and their baby, he snorts softly, reaching over to rub her back gently with his fingers, ]

I still have dreams were are some nights... But then she wakes me up and I can't even be annoyed by it.

[respirations]

❪ it was done, over with. somehow, someway they had managed to defeat the demonic sewer clown that had been lingering in their shadows for near 27 years and haunting the town of derry for even longer. it was gone, dead and never ever coming back. for one, in a long time, eddie feels as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he finds it a little easier to breathe.

well, somewhat, currently he's floating in dirty quarry water with a still very open wound on his face. it's what currently has him worked up and talking fifty miles per hour about infection, blood diseases and possibly having to have half of his face removed from some water born illness. yet that wasn't even considering the brain eating amoeba that might be lurking in the waters!

but everyone else just smiles, laughing and bev splashes water in his face asking him to never, ever change. eddie can only sputter, spitting water like an angry cat going on the attack but he stops short of actually returning a splash of water back at her because his gaze finds (and lingers) on richie as the other stands away from them cleaning his glasses. it's a sight that leans eddie swallowing awkwardly, remembering everything in such clear detail— richie in the deadlights, spearing the fucking clown in his mouth and rushing over to rich all excited. he had done, killed it and in his excitement it had happened: he kissed him.

he still isn't sure what had come over him but he had known, at the time, he couldn't think of anything else but kissing rich. perhaps it had worked out too because when the clown had moved in to attack, rich had the chance to see and roll them out of the way. of course, they hadn't talked about it because when would they have had the time? and so, with a breath, eddie floats closer to where rich is in the water. ❫

I didn't say it before but thanks, Rich. That thing would have fucking skewed me if not for you.

[beavertrap]

[ After all these years, it really was like they were closing the book on one period of their life and now... there was uncharted territory ahead of them. For all of them. He had been thrown into someplace where there was nothing but blinding white light and death. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He could faintly hear Eddie, the others. And then there he was, above him.

Richie thought he had looked beautiful in that moment. More so than ever before. The pride he felt at Eddie doing what he always knew his friend was capable of was just an added bonus.

The kiss... he wasn't sure what to think about that.

What could he think?

Eddie didn't know his feelings. He was sure the others didn't, either.

He instead tries to focus on getting his glasses clean -- which is a pain because of course, that fucker cracked them. He doesn't notice Eddie moving closer to him until he hears his best friend right there. Rich flinches and drops his glasses into the water, a tremor still going through his hands after... everything. ]

Fuck.

[ Bill notices first and then dives down for them. The others do, too. Leaving just him and Eddie above the water. ]

You would've done the same for me, man.

in which eddie couch surfs on one couch and one couch only

[respirations]

❪ the flight from new york to los angeles was about as turbulent as his divorce proceedings had been. not that, in truth, eddie had really be surprised. he hadn't been a lot of things, hadn't felt a lot of things in the year since they defeated it underneath derry and he had nearly lost his life. his scar was a physical reminder but, in truth, he knew that things had been mentally fucked up too.

not to say it wasn't bad before. no, he just... didn't have the memories to realize just how bad things had been. surgeries, all the medication, physical therapy; all of it had been rough. most of it was still rough but as he begun getting better, eddie begun realizing other things like having to cut all of the bad out of his life and that (maybe) starting anew wasn't such a bad idea when you had literally died.

that's what leaves him here now with his one suitcase, sitting in some random 24-hour diner and staring at the blank message screen that been blinking in front of him for the last hour. although he's kept up with all the losers, messaged them-- they all hadn't had much of a chance to see one another.

but with a tired sound, he finally brings himself to click on richie's picture and type: ❫

hey, so, weird question
but
any good long-term hotel recommendations in LA?

[sloppybitch]

[No, they hadn't seen each other since the incident. Richie stayed longer than any of the other losers through some of Eddie's recovery. When the guy was mobile he had to leave to continue his tour dates and he'd called once or twice when he heard that Eddie was back in New York but ended up hanging up through the sound of the ringer or missing him entirely, and leaving some half-baked voicemail.

Being in Derry had stirred up a lot of old feelings for him, memories deeper than the totem incident at the theater. Stolen moments in the hammock at their clubhouse and in an open field under the dull heat of the afternoon. Things no one else could see, moments no one else knew about but them. Him, maybe. Richie wasn't sure what Eddie did or didn't remember.

So, while looking over some lines sent to him for the next act he's surprised to see Eddie's name when his phone vibrates against the desk.]

Dude
Why are you in LA?
forget the hotel, I have a guest room just come to my address.

What the fuck, man?
Don't make me call you to get answers.

more parenthood!au shenanigans

[respirations]

and some more visuals — one; two; three; four; five; six; seven.

❪ parenthood, they say, never gets any easier just that you learn more tricks to the trade.

though, eddie at times wonders if he'll never figure this shit out if his kids keep throwing fast balls at him. he's got richie, thankfully because god only knows where he'd be without him. he can hear richie moving around and getting other things together to start the day while he sits on the floor of one very pink, very princess accented room trying to properly braid the hair of their oldest. amelia was six, almost seven, now and easily still as vocal and animated as she had been as a baby but is currently half-asleep in his lap and barely hanging on with eyes just barely open as eds gently weaves her hair into her favorite style.

somewhere in the background, he can hear their three-year-olds giggling which can mean one of two things and (without missing a beat) he turns to see that they are indeed stripped out of their clothes once again. eddie can only sigh and move to stand thinking that they must get that habit from richie. amelia, thankfully, doesn't put up a fight in her sleepy state as he picks her up into his arms. ❫

Okay, you two, come on with me before I super glue your buttons shut.

❪ all he gets in response is unified giggles as they, in unison, each latch onto one of his legs and he in turn drags himself along from amelia's room toward the living room. ❫

Rich! Could you finish Amelia's hair while I get these two back into their clothes again.

[beavertrap]

[ Three lunches to pack, three backpacks to make sure are by the door and three sets of shows. As much as Rich liked to "hang loose", when it came to getting the kids to school, routine was everything. Same for at night and winding them down enough to put them to bed. Breakfast had been eaten and put away. The rest was just getting them ready to get out the door.

He follows Ed's voice and shakes his head at the twins. ]

How did we end up with a pair of nudists?

[ But he takes Amelia, telling her she needs to "wake up, honey. it's not Saturday". Because of course their kid sleeps in on the weekends instead of getting up to watch cartoons or something. ]

[respirations]

because i clearly live for visuals — one, two, three, four, five.

❪ stan came into their lives like a literal burst of lightning. they had talked about kids and adopting before, sure but eddie had never been sure if them (especially himself) would be physically and mentally prepared for what that would mean. they had been through a lot, a literal mess of shit and adopting was it's own minefield. there was a lot of 'what ifs' and 'maybes' and more than once they had both come out of another failed prospect utterly drained. still, they did what they could and pushed on. they got their shit together and actually got married, moved into a area outside of LA with white fences and a fucking backyard. it was insane and yet, somehow-- it all worked.

he had only been a baby at the time but in nearly two years, he had grown into a literal menace of a toddler and eddie couldn't be happier. he hit all of his marks, babbled constantly and his favorite past time seemed to be mastering the art of escaping from his play area. it was literal chaos at times but there was a happiness there too that couldn't be denied. something that no one, or anything, could take away from them.

even the fears that still lingered and that worry that somehow, someway, continued to shadow in the back of his mind that he'd be just a parent just like his mother couldn't ruin moments like these where he can just sit and watch his son play. the television is playing some kid's show that he loves as he sits in his playpen putting building blocks together. it's one of the rare days that both rich and himself have off together and eddie can't help leaning back slightly on the couch to find wherever richie is standing. ❫

What are you up to back there?

[sloppybitch]

Besides building the most badass space shuttle you've ever fucking seen?

[Yeah, leave it to Richie to keep their toddler so stimulated that nap time was difficult. Blocks, he could do, not like they had much more than that when they were really young.

Richie took to being a father uncharacteristically well. The first time Stanley had a fever he almost panicked himself into his own coma. He had to call Bill and Audra to get some kind of understanding and to be talked off the ledge. Playing was simple though, playing he could do.]

Trying to factor in a line in my act about that time Stan peed on you.

[Parenthood, and there is a notepad lying on his lap. It had been hilarious, really, they went to change his diaper and well- rockets were launched and Eddie had taken it all so well. There was a joke somewhere in there but Eddie hadn't found it yet. Still, family shit is still worth writing about. Especially given that their wedding and the adoption had been well documented. Paparazzi still followed them sometimes when they were out.]

[respirations]

❪ it's barely two months into their junior year and already eddie is drowning in homework. he managed a few advance placement classes and already, he feels, they're taking a toll on him and his free time. he's been at this study work since he got home from school and although it's already dark, he hardly feels anywhere near done with it. in fact, he feels like he's hardly made a dent especially with how his mind keeps wandering onto other things, or rather, onto a certain someone.

it's been especially hard not to think about richie since the end of summer. their relationship had always been so much more than anything he could ever hope to properly explain, they understood one another in ways that didn't really require words and at times eddie wonders if this is what people meant when they say some people are just meant to be together. because, yeah, he likes to think that him and richie are meant to be even though he's sure that rich might laugh at him if he ever said anything so sappy.

still, he's been doing a lot of thinking about them and their relationship about where it should go. he just wants so much and wants to give so much but feels utterly clueless on where to start. sometimes he wants to take things further but can't ever get the words to come out but he shouldn't be worried about telling rich this, right? what's the worst that could happen besides him saying no? that just meant they could wait and―

and he nearly jumps out of his skin as a pebble hits his window.

another one hits before he jumps up from his desk, near scattering papers everywhere and hurrying to the window. he knows who it is without fail, trying to hide his excitement but failing to hide the small smile as he gets the window open and leans out. ❫

The neighbors are seriously going to call the cops one day if you keep skulking around in my backyard after dark.

[sloppybitch]

[Richie's always been a good student, despite the loudmouth and his reputation that preceded him within the halls of their high school he regularly made straight As. Richie was surprisingly astute but purposefully declined AP courses, not wanting any reason for anyone to pre-dedicated his time.

He sought Eddie out in quiet moments under the bleachers, or by sneaking through the window late at night his too-long arms scaling the terrace so he could come inside. Richie doesn't wait to hear Eddie, he's already on his way up, and he rolls over the window frame with about as much grace as you'd expect from a seventeen-year-old that went from 5'11 to over six feet in one summer.

Wrather than incur the wrath of Mrs. K, he gently finds the carpeted floor and drops his shoes off the way Eddie likes for him to when he's in the house.]

I was freezing my ass off out there, took you long enough. Hey, Eds.

[respirations]

❪ as it turns out separation anxiety is a absolutely a thing.

once they return from their vacation, they return to their normal lives with them both returning to work. yet it was still hard going from seeing someone at every literal moment to long bouts of absences because he was stuck in the office or rich was off on a tour.

it's around three-and-a-half weeks into the latest two month long stint that eddie sits up in bed, says "fuck it" and books a plane ticket to chicago. rich is busy with getting ready for his show this weekend, he knows and although he thinks about showing up at his hotel for that surprise he ultimately decides once more to fuck it. so with help from richie's manager (who, he finds, seems to enjoy a good joke too), he decides instead to just set up in his green room and relax until richie shows up.

and he'll still be relaxing whenever he does roll around, getting mighty comfy on the couch and idly flipping through a magazine ❫

You know, I gotta say that I'm almost surprised by the bouquet made entirely of miniature alcohol bottles. Is it an engagement present?

❪ no "hey, surprise" or "i missed you" just neat little comments like he's supposed to be here. ❫

[sloppybitch]

Spaghetti!!

[Richie wasn't expecting it, no, but they'd been texting every day of the trip and Eddie had made no indication of coming by or any hint that he was traveling. Between being on the bus, going back and forth to shows, and doing interviews his days are booked. He still makes time to call and talk to Eddie though, every night before falling asleep.]

We're all anybody can talk about. Apparently I bust the radar- whatever that means. What're you doing here, man? I can't believe you came are you gonna see the show? You should definitely see the show.

[respirations]

❪ they are barely a year into dating when eddie realizes something important.

he realizes one night sitting on the couch in their house that he really, really hates being apart from richie. like some fucked up separation anxiety. although he's been idly scrolling through his twitter feed mostly filled with posts about richie's latest tour, waiting on his boyfriend's usual nightly phone call and trying to convince himself that feeling like this was dumb. they had survived tours before, shorter ones, sure but they could make three months work.

although he thinks this, tells himself once, twice and once more. eddie still fucking hates it. it's then that he notices the date and is struck by an idea. his boss has always been talking about trying out remote work and he does have richie's manager on his contact. so, with only an hour left until midnight on the west coat, eddie gets himself a plane ticket to chicago and sets out to start packing.

it's a good thing that he has rich's manager since he's more than helpful in helping him sneak into richie's hotel room while the other is setting up for his show this weekend. it's how rich finds him whenever the other decides to roll around for the night, eddie set up on his bed and idly flipping through the channels while sipping on a bottle of water. ❫

You'd think how much this room cost they'd give you some decent fucking sheets.

❪ no "hey, surprise" or "i missed you" or even "happy birthday" just neat little bitching about the bed sheets. ❫

[mrsklover]

[Richie is a completely whipped little bitch. Not that he minds, of course. He has the love of his life in his bed and at his side almost all the time. The snipe at each other like they're kids and kiss each other in ways kids absolutely shouldn't. They fuck and fight and just adore each other in a way that has Richie weak at the knees when he thinks too much about it. A whole ten minute set of his act is about how grossly in love they are and how it even makes him sick. He loves it.

But what he doesn't love is doing those sets on tour.

There is something about telling a whole group about how much he loves his boyfriend that hits Richie hard when said boyfriend is not around to tease him about it, after. He's whipped and needy and just misses Eddie like a cut off limb. But it's the nature of the job and they get through it. Even when it lands on his birthday.

Richie gets back to the hotel tired and somewhat lonely that night. He did the whole set as a practice and even his seasoned stagehands were laughing. He was good and the small cupcake they got him was a nice touch as well. But he misses Eddie and almost wants to skip their call because of how insufficient it is for how lonely he feels. But then he opens his door. And who is on his bed? Who the fuck just flew out to Chicago on an apparent whim as a surprise?

It's the best fucking birthday gift in his entire life.]

Eds?

[Richie stands in the doorway for a solid ten seconds, gaping. Unable to believe this.]

What...the actual fuck? Did you...? Did I finally drink myself into the fun kind of insanity with hallucinations?

ok be gentle w/me

[weakstomach]

(( I couldn't decide on a theme, so... cherry pick what you like and ignore the rest? I'm the worst, I'm sorry. ))

01 02 03 04 05 06 07

tried to throw most of them to use! ♥

[respirations]

It's the sound of thunder in the distance that finally gets Eddie stirring in bed. He blinks once, twice and finally brings himself to open his eyes to room lit only by the overcast skies outside. A glance to the window tells him what he already knows; rain pelts against the window in unending sheets of water that make it clear that today's beach plans were likely cancelled for the day.

Which was, shockingly, a shame for Eddie. Yesterday had been fantastic despite Richie coming back in with sunburns despite his warnings about reapplying it. They had walked around the nearby town, shot the shit and bought dumb gifts to send back to the other Losers before ending the day on the sands itself with drinks in hand. They had talked a lot as the sunset about ideas, plans and the recently realized bout of separation anxiety both had suffered while Richie had been doing a short tour up the West Coast.

He had expected to miss him. Eddie finds his stomach tightening up and doing flips when the bastard is late coming home from local gigs, after all. This had been a little different. Like a piece of you is missing? Beverly had asked, amused. Eddie had scoffed at the time but it didn't stop him from immediately burying against Richie once he had gotten in from his red-eye home. Maybe it was still the newness of their relationship, maybe it was the fear of forgetting one another again after everything they had fought against but maybe it was just he had genuinely missed the Trashmouth.

And speaking of―

There's a notable body of warmth missing from bed and Eddie, finally, sits up with a yawn. Somewhere nearby he can hear music but can't quite pinpoint where in the rental it might be coming from. Instead he rubs the sleep from his eyes and calls out:

"Rich?"

RADOM TEXTING CAUSE BAAAEEEE!!!! 1/2

[foul_mouthed]

[eddie will get this lovely morning text not long after he's went out for his morning run.]

Alright.....

Soooo....

Don't get pissed.

2/2

[foul_mouthed]

....

Yeah.

You're gonna be fucking pissed.

😭

Because this idiot....😔😍

[foul_mouthed]

So....

I take it you're still pretty pissed about the Halloween party?

[respirations]

What gave you that idea?

[foul_mouthed]

I fucking found ring pops for 25 cents!!!! I here by claim you by putting a ring on it!!!!

Choose your color!!!!!



[don't ask why he's like this, eddie]

[respirations]

And here I always thought I had more worth than a fucking ring pop but hey, who knows.

Surprise me.

[foul_mouthed]

I'm fucking you into the new year tonight.

[respirations]

That a promise, dickwad?

[respirations]

( As far as Eddie can remember the Christmas season has never much more than another set of days in the week for him. There is fun to it as a child, of course, with school out and the idea of getting the latest new things to show off to your friends. Not that home was ever 'comfortable' per say considering his mother but there was always a calmness to those sort of days when his usual overbearing mom could just be happy for something as simple as watching him wear ugly sweaters and opening presents.

He can't remember that time of the year being much different when he had been married either. Honesty Eddie remembers spending much more time at work than at home during the time. Eddie had expected to spend the rest of his life just like that but like everything else in his life― Derry changed things. Now instead of New York he was spending the holidays in Los Angeles since his move here some half year ago when he literally threw everything to the wind and uproot his life. There have been ups and downs but overall this new life carved out with Richie despite all the setbacks (namely his injury and recovery) has been a good one.

Perhaps that is why that as Christmas draws closer that Eddie is drawn to act. Rich is away on a short two week trip to do a few shows and looking around their place is Eddie suddenly hit with the urge to decorate. It starts small but by the end of the week, he's found himself hanging lights around the fireplace mantle and some pre-lighted tree that the neighbor had just raved about to him the other morning when she caught him on his morning run. He isn't sure what Richie celebrates (if anything) or if there is any traditions to take into account but the day before Richie is due back does Eddie finally decide that maybe he's done a good job.

Maybe they could have some weird beginning in their own traditions together.

It's early in the morning when he approaches the front door, wreath in hand to hang before his run when he opens the door and finds himself face to face with his boyfriend. Eddie can't help but blink once, twice before his brows knit together slightly. )

I thought you wouldn't be home until tomorrow?

( Never mind him just standing there with wreath in his hands and their living room clearly decorated. )

[sloppybitch]

[It's been more than a year since what went down in Derry and little jump scares like the door opening in his face still sends a jolt right through his system. Richie's tired, and that probably doesn't help things but he's happy to be home and was hoping to crawl into bed with Eddie or at least surprise him with the early trip back. Eddie's had this way about him since they were kids, always upping the ante by being steadfast and prepared. Catching him off guard was difficult, and it was the same way now. He was coming around to the truth that Eddie wasn't nearly as naive as he'd been as a boy in the barrens, but the absolute reversal when it came to getting the upper hand still made him petulant.]

What? No hug? Wait- [Finally, he notices the wreath and it's cute. So very Martha Stewart. He tries to peer inside but doesn't get much more than the twinkle of some lights in the distance.] were you throwing a party? Without me?

[foul_mouthed]

Did you snag my Street Fighter hoodie?

[respirations]

This one?

( Richie gets a picture from Eddie a moment later. He is clearly shopping at their nearby store dressed in said Street Fighter hoodie, one of his own coats over it and a beanie to protect him from what he refers to 'overwhelming cold' weather in Los Angeles. )

Tell me to leave you the fuck alone. Jesus...

[foul_mouthed]

Looks like we're fucked for our valentines dinner this weekend.

My McDonald's gift card is expired!!!

😔

[respirations]

A shame.

Guess we'll just have to go with my plan for the weekend then.

[respirations]

( Life, as it turns out, is fucking weird.

Eddie never really gave it too much thought in the grand scheme of things. When he was younger, perhaps, he thought it was weird that he didn't have any memories of where he had grown up or even memories of his childhood. It wasn't a strange thing to forget certain childhood memories because that just came with getting fucking old but to have nothing? Ultimately he just figured it was something to deal with repressing all the bad shit that had came to his realization after his mother's death.

At the time it had been a lot to take in. Perhaps that's why he had gave up addressing it once Richie had walked into his life. It had been almost storybook-like for them to have found one another when they did, he thinks though wouldn't dare say it least Rich tease him. Still, no lie, he is grateful for having someone like his husband to lean on just because he never had this sort of thing growing up. Or, rather, he didn't remember having had this sort of shit growing up―

Since that call from Mike some twenty minutes ago there has been a lot of things returning to the forefront of his brain. A lot of shit that he isn't sure that he wants to remember. It has left him shaking, nerves on fire as he sits on the sidewalk and only absently listens to the sounds around him. Eventually, Eddie has to get his phone out and hit Richie's number in his contacts. God, Richie―

Eddie isn't surprised when it goes to voicemail. Richie has a show today, he knows this but he had hoped to hear his voice before this panic attack had fully set in. )

Rich, Richie― hey. I got into an accident, um― I'm fine but can you just pick me up when you get done with your show? I got, uh... something weird happened and I can't even fucking explain it. Just call me back, okay?

[beep_beep]

[ Shit had been great. A whirlwind of fucking terrible and awkward and hell and then just as suddenly amazing. Absolute coincidence, and fucking perfect, and for once in who the hell even knew how long Richie Tozier actually loved his fucking life, and wasn't that the miracle-est of miracles. Sure, it wasn't without low spots, he had a mini crisis about once every couple weeks about the wisdom of coming out on stage to fucking propose like a dumbass, but it was three years in and it was still amazing and he was still in one piece and making money and Netflix hadn't dropped the deal yet so...it was fine. Better than.

And then the fucking phone call came.

Some voice he only kind-of remembered, like something he'd had a dream about once, telling him to come home. Like he wasn't from fucking Milwaukee. But no, the guy talked about some podunk town in Maine, and then he just feels like he's gonna be sick. Like the worst hangover ever only with this overwhelming sense of dread. He gets off the phone as soon as he can and everything just snowballs from there. A shot to try to steady everything does absolutely fuck-all and he bombs the damn show, stumbles off the stage and out to the fire escape to spew his guts out onto the concrete below, shaking as shit starts pouring in, shit he didn't even know he'd forgotten, and woven through everything he's absolutely terrified because there's something bad underneath.

Nick follows him out, because of course he does, tries to get him to go back in like there's any chance of recovering anything now, but he just shakes his head. Demands his cell, because he needs to call Eddie. Needs to know that at least the bad feeling doesn't have anything to do with him, as absolutely stupid and pathetic as that sounds, so he wipes his mouth and washes out the taste of bile with another shot as he listens to the voicemail, which doesn't actually help anything. He curses, a loud string, followed by a hurried plea to sort this shit out because he has to go to the hospital, and he knows damn well he shouldn't be driving right now but he does it anyway. Calls Eddie back on the way because fuck rules, "I'm fine" can mean literally anything. ]

Hey. What the fuck, man? I'm on the way, but seriously. That desperate to meet the new nurses, huh? You wanted to play doctor, all you had to do was say so, I got your prostate exam right here. This rubber glove kink of yours is getting out of hand, Eds, seriously.

[ He's rambling. He knows he's rambling, but he's freaking out he can't seem to stop talking right now. ]

[respirations]

( The aftermath of their second battle with Pennywise has been rough. Although Eddie survived (a miracle, the doctors had said) it did not come without its own sets of problems. He was in the hospital for quite sometime and, afterwards, the doctors wanted him close so they could begin physical therapy. It would be too dangerous, they said, for a patient who literally had a giant hole in their chest to travel long distances right now especially with all the medicine he has being prescribed to help keep him together.

Physical therapy has been rough though and it shows. He has breathing exercises to help retrain his lungs, strength training and even exercises to help him get back on his feet without pushing himself too far. It was hard, harder than Eddie ever expected to learn his limits and know just when to stop. He's getting better, he thinks but it's clear how exhausted it gets him these days.

He does have Richie, thankfully. Eddie doesn't know what he'd do without the other man in his life right now. The other Losers had returned to their homes and families because, yeah, of course but Richie had stuck around. He kept close, lingered and Eddie had attached himself to it without a second thought. In the aftermath of everything perhaps it isn't a surprise but more importantly: he did love the big, lanky bastard. It was a slow realization but one day, sitting in his hospital bed it had hit him like a ton of bricks and things had just gone from there―

It's been close to two months now since their reunion in Derry but the two of them are still lingering in Maine because of his treatments and until the doctors give him the okay to get the fuck out of her. They're not staying in Derry, of course, they're more closer to Portland and the Maine Medical Center. The home they rent is small but it's nice with enough space for Eddie to do his at-home therapy without worry and space for Richie to work with his manager back in Los Angeles. Although he still has bad moments there is comfort to be bound in sharing a space with someone he has come to truly love.

Still he can't help sighing as they pull into the driveway. The sun has almost completely set and Eddie has been hard at work for most of the day with therapy. It probably shows on his face as he leans back in the passenger seat, blinking tiredly but happy to be home. )

I could honestly just go inside and just pass out. ( It's said lightly with a yawn but he smiles just a moment as he glances to Richie. ) Or just pass out here in the car. Just wake me up in the morning, okay?

[beep_beep]

I am not carrying you inside.

[ He parks the car and heads around to the other side to help the other man get out anyway; if he had to carry him he absolutely would, if nothing else this shit has gotten him in a little better shape just from having to help Eddie get around throughout the process, not that he has any regrets. Eddie didn't die, and for that Richie is forever grateful. Oh, he'd absolutely been terrified he was going to, but he hadn't, and Richie had stuck by him every damn day. Even when he should have gone home, because he knew damn well it was a particular brand of fucked that had you sticking by the bedside of a guy you'd been in love with since you were twelve when you knew damn well he probably didn't feel the same, and might actually just laugh in your face if you said anything.

Except...he didn't. No, it was Eddie with the cliché bedside confession, like the universe had caught on that it had gone a little too heavy with the shitty jokes, and here they were. ]

Come on, Kaspbrak. Up and at 'em, I'll get you settled and find us something to eat, and then you can sleep all you want.

Young bb drama shhiiittteeeee

[foul_mouthed]

[Richie has been typing his message out and deleting it over an hour now. He's been struggling to find the proper words, anything to get Eddie to actually speak to him.

It's been close to two weeks now and his secret boyfriend, ex-boyfriend hasn't responded to any of his attempts.

Christ, he's such a fucking idiot but he didn't do what Eddie thought he did. He would never do something to hurt Eddie, he didn't fucking cheat.]

Hey....

Wanna skip your track meet and sneak off somewhere?

[respirations]

( He's busy in his AP Biology class when the text comes through. It's the final class of the day before Eddie's got to head off for his track meet at a school neighboring Bangor where they've been told recruiters from some of the surrounding universities for a chance of getting spotted and hopefully having a chance to get an offer. For a long moment, Eddie just stares at the screen and considers finally blocking Richie's fucking number to be done with this entire thing because every time another text comes through then he feels another nail struck into his heart.

There is a long sigh, Stan staring at him from across their table with a raised brow. Eddie simply shrugged in response before glancing back to his phone and although he moves to return it to his pocket, he sighs before beginning to type up a response. )

I can't. This is a fucking important meet for me.

If you want then you can pick me upwards.

( He's not sure if this is a good thing or not. The fucking rumors were still going around and plenty of pictures had showed up online with his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) in a less than good position. )