respirations | ― open post.

[ 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. ]

( He's still shaking like a leaf in the fucking wind by the time Richie calls him back. There is a curse as Eddie fumbles and near drops the damn thing onto the pavement before managing to answer the call and is immediately (unsurprisingly) hit with a wave of literal word vomit from his husband. There is a long pause where Eddie just sits and listens before breathing in a shaky breath of air into his lungs. It's such a small thing just to hear Richie's voice but it has a calming effect that helps the panic building and threatening to close his lungs up.

Yet he finds it hard to speak up and in the silence that follows he realizes that it probably isn't helping Rich's nerves either because he knows Richie is on edge too. In the background there is still noise from where the tow-truck is loading his car up but he finally finds his voice, breathes in deep. )

I'm not at the hospital, dickwad. I'm sitting outside that stupid fucking deli near downtown. The one that sells those Reuben sandwiches that you like? ( He breathes in deep once and then twice. ) Are you driving? Don't fucking drive and talk, Rich. I just got into an accident doing exactly that!

( He's yelling but there is an unmistakable shake in his voice and Eddie, finally, hears his lungs lock up with a harsh wheezing sound. )

Fuck, this is― this is just fucking shit― I don't know what the fuck is happening, Rich.

[ Eddie doesn't answer for what seems like an eternity, and that entire time Richie feels like he's drowning. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and panic rises -- he's dead, it was worse than he thought, he was okay and then he wasn't and now he's DEAD and the nurse is just trying to figure out how to tell me -- and then Eddie answers and a rush of air escapes him as he gets verbally berated, and he's never been so stupidly glad for something in his life. ]

Fuck. Okay. I can...yeah I know how to get there from here. Okay. Jesus, Eddie. You could have said you weren't in the hospital! Lead with that! "Hello, Richard, love of my life, star of my heart, I crashed my car but I'm at that baller deli you love and I hate and I absolutely promise I'm not dead." Fucking gave me a heart attack and you know my arteries are already half clogged with grease.

[ Overstatement, sure, but holy fuck he doesn't know what to do with all the nervous energy he's got vibrating through him right now. ]

Yeah, I'm driving, but we're in the 21st fucking century so I'm hands free. Fucking relax, you're the one who almost died.

Breathe. I'm almost there. I bombed the show and they're probably gonna fire me tomorrow anyway, so I've got all day. All week, really.

Except I said I was fine! You know I don't say shit like that unless I mean it but honestly? I am like on the verge of a full blown panic attack right here on main street so I very well might end up in the fucking hospital when they drag me there.

( Nervous energy is definitely a word for it because Eddie is finally up and pacing, pointedly ignoring the looks from anyone passing him on the sidewalk. Yet despite his want to fucking lose it there is still a part of him that has wrangled in some control and he does as told, breathing in deeply through his nose before sighing out slowly. Still it's hard not deny the want to punch something or kick something or fucking cry because everything is spiraling out from under him.

Come home, the unfamiliar yet so familiar voice had told him. The only home he had was the one that Eddie had made with Richie. The home he wanted more than anything right now. )

I didn't almost die. ( He says lightly, tiredly. ) Yeah, well, I'm missing an important meeting with most of the regional bosses so we'll both be fucked together.

I'm almost there, don't freak anybody out. You'll be fine, they'll fall apart without you.

[ And okay, so he's driving like a lunatic to get there, but true to his word he pulls up not long after, feeds the machine and crosses the space to where Eddie's sitting.

And about halfway there he's hit like a ton of bricks, like some kind of wall in his brain's been torn down. He's known Eds for forever. Pined for years then forgot him, and for a moment he's speechless and full of words all at once. ]

What the. What the fuck. Okay, I'm over this day, I want a do-over. How are you, seriously, because you look like shit. Hot shit, the sexiest shit I've ever seen, but still definitely garbage. Which, ironically, is exactly how I feel.

And your management team would be fucked over without you. You're still charting in the Top 10 for Netflix.

( He can't bring himself to complain about Richie's driving because it means getting to him faster. As soon as Eddie spots Richie's car he is on his feet and moving toward his husband though stops short when he notices the distant look on his face. Once again he feels his breath coming in short, rapid gasps before taking the last few steps needed to pull him into a hug.

It's relaxing to listen to Richie's heart and he can feel himself calming down even though the realizations of returning memories are near overwhelming. There's so much to think about, to talk about but all he wants right now is― )

I'm okay, I think? How are you supposed to react to something like this? Are you okay though? You're absolutely white as a sheet. ( He reaches up with another sigh, hands coming to rest on Richie's face as his thumbs gently stroke his cheekbones. ) And I just― I want to go home and I don't mean fucking Maine; I mean our home.

[ He clings as soon as Eddie closes the space, wraps his arms around him as tight as he can, pressing his forehead to his husband's, reveling in the contact. ]

I dunno. This whole day's fucked. I'm okay, I just... Apparently I forgot all about you for way too long and that's really fucked up. Let's go home, and if you don't want to go to Maine, we don't go. End of story.

I can't believe I ever forgot you. I can't believe I forgot everything we went through together.

( Something that seems to hold some deeper, darker meaning that Eddie still doesn't fully have access to understand. It scares him and makes him want to cling harder to Richie as their foreheads press together. )

I don't know, Rich. We made a promise.

( Which seems like such a small, dumb thing to bring up but he grasps at Richie's hand and exposes the scar torn across his palm before turning his own palm over. He always thought it was weird that they had similar scars but he never really gave it more than a passing though. It was just another weird similarity that they shared. )

But, yeah, uh― let's go home. ( He repeats and leans in to kiss the corner of his husband's mouth. ) We'll talk more once we get home.

( Once he feels safe again. )

We were kids. Kids make all kinds of promises, because they're young and dumb.

[ And he knows there's something bigger behind it, something with the scar and the reason they forgot each other and Derry. Something big that scares the shit out of him even if he doesn't know exactly what it is. ]

Okay. We'll go home, we'll have a couple drinks, and we'll figure it out.

[ He reaches for a hand, links fingers and squeezes, feeling like he's painted neon and everybody's staring but it's fine. It's okay. He tugs Eddie towards the car lightly so he can get him settled in and they can head home. ]

But kids don't cut fucking scars into their palms either.

( There was so much to the entire ordeal and it fucking scares him. They had already forgot each other once in life so what was to say that something else wouldn't happen to them going forward from here? It fucking worries Eddie into a near panic because Richie was the one constant good thing in his life.

He didn't (couldn't) lose that. )

Yeah, um― drinks sound fucking perfect. I just want to be with you right now.

( It's sappy, yeah but Richie can probably find the truth in that statement as soon as he takes Eddie's hand. Although he's calmed down reasonably, he's still shaking and clings close to his husband's side even on the short walk to the car. He keeps a hand on him even while Richie drives them home, a hand on his thigh and leaned over the passenger seat. It's a short drive home but with all the thoughts circling in his head it feels like it takes forever.

Needless to say, he has never been happier to get inside and lock the door behind them. It isn't long before he'd nudging into Richie again once they've made it to the kitchen for said drinks with just a harsh want to keep the two of them linked together. )

This is so fucked up. How could I have forgot being in love with you when I was a stupid tween?

( Who the fuck says tween anymore? Edward Kaspbrak still does― apparently. )

I don't know.

[ He's all too happy to keep him close, arm draped around something the entire time as he works on pouring them drinks. A little heavier handed than maybe entirely necessary, but given everything going on? He figures it's worth it. Once drinks are in hand he navigates them to the living room. Gently pulls Eddie down next to him, slots the smaller man against him like he's trying to shield him from the world. ]

I don't think I ever really...forgot exactly, I knew there was something missing before I found you again. But...shit.

[ A beat, then a grin. ]

You were in love with me when we were kids?

( Like Richie, Eddie keeps an arm wrapped around his waist and pressed close against his side. Even though he has never been much for alcohol in general there isn't any care from him as his husband pours a heavy handed drink for the both of them. He's already drinking it by the time that he is navigated out of the kitchen and to the living room with a sigh escaping him as he tucks himself against Richie once again. )

I don't think I ever really forgot either. You, maybe in a way but never really being in long with you. I think I used to dream about you, you know? ( He sighs and shifts so he can better look upwards at him. ) It was always you, I think.

( It leaves him smiling, fondly. ) And here I figured that I was being obvious the whole time.

You fucking sap.

[ But he's smiling at him softly, and leans down to kiss him, a warmth that's almost overwhelming flooding in his chest. ]

Nah, I was too busy being obnoxiously in love with you and worrying everybody was gonna find out to notice.

[ He takes a hearty gulp from his drink. ]

Any good dreams?

Says you, asshole.

( The kiss is everything and more that he needs in the moment and it likely shows considering how long Eddie holds close, chasing Richie's lips for another kiss before settling back into his spot. It helps him forget thought; makes him think that, for just a moment, everything is normal again. )

I bet Stan noticed. ( He says with a laugh although it feels weird saying names of people that he hasn't thought about in literal decades. ) Just not me though but... I wish I had.

( Not that he regrets anything about what they have now but he does wish they could have had it all sooner. )

They were sad at first and frustrating because I couldn't remember you. After seeing you again though? Yeah― they were really good.

Of course Stan noticed. Shit. Stan the Man.

[ How could he have forgotten them all? It starts to filter back, and they were so close. What happened? ]

Bev knew. She got it out of me but I swore her to secrecy because I didn't want to get my ass kicked.

[ He takes a sip of his drink and traces along Eddie's arm. ]

Got that much better, huh?

Everyone probably noticed in their own way. I feel like everyone was more in tune with our feelings than the two of us ourselves.

( It's just so strange to think about now. They were so close and clearly they went through something together that was meant to be remembered, something they would scar themselves over. Yet he just can't remember it or maybe he just didn't want to remember. )

That doesn't surprise me. Bev always seemed just so aware of everything like― she could see the links connecting all of us.

( Eddie isn't sure if that makes sense but he smiles either way. Richie's hand tracing along his arm helps to bring his husband back into focus though and he curls in close to let his lips ghost over the line of Rich's chin. )

So much better especially our wedding night. You had me near convinced I could stay in that bed for the rest of my life.

[ He hums at the trace of lips, arm tightening around him a little to pull him closer, not that there's much closer that he could get. ]

Hey, I wouldn't have complained. I mean, we would've missed out on the honeymoon, but I still wouldn't have complained.

Mmm. I might have complained a little just because that room we booked was so amazing.

( He smiles against Richie's skin as he speaks, shifting just enough to lean over and set his glass down on the side table. It allows him the chance to nudge Rich's arms out of the so he can settle into his lap instead. It is (without a doubt) what he needs right now with all this shit weighing down on them and, more that, with them both just remembering everything they've always felt for one another.

Once again his lips dip down to kiss at Richie's throat with soft sounds. )

This is just all so crazy. I can't believe if we hadn't ran into each other then we might have not remembered one another until this very moment.

Shit, yeah. It really really was.

[ He manages to steal a last swig from his glass before Eddie's too much in his space to warrant it even being a first thought, let alone an afterthought, then puts it down on the side table before focusing on the man in his lap. A development that is much more important than anything else could possibly be, honestly, weird memories or not.

He leans back obligingly at the press of lips to give him better access, appreciative sounds answering as he reaches for him, slides a hand along his back, pressing against the ridge of his spine, trying to cover as much territory as he can. ]

Fuck, how shitty a prospect is that? And then just remembering all the dumb teenage angst until now? Shit, we probably wouldn't even be in the same place. Could've been on opposite sides of the country or something.

( There's a quiet moment as Eddie continues pressing messy kisses against Richie's neck but decides to put those multitasking abilities to work by reaching over to move Richie's glass to a coaster. Never let it be said that Eddie didn't have priorities in mind because he doesn't miss a beat in biting down against a patch of skin where his neck and shoulder meet before sucking a small, purplish bruise against his skin with grin as he pulls back. )

Or married to other people. How fucked up would that be. To be with someone before you're suddenly hit with every feeling you ever had for your teenage crush all at once.

( He can't help continuing to let his lips trace over the spots he knows that Richie likes best with his own pleasurable sounds rumbling from his chest as his husband runs a hand along his back. He takes a deep breath, nuzzling skin before pressing in close for another soft, slow kiss. )

I'm not gonna question it though, I'm just glad I found you despite everything apparently working against us.

[ He snorts at the assessment, even if it comes out pretty unsteady given the attention he's getting. Fingers curl into Eddie's shirt at the bite, a rough exhale of breath following, and no matter how sincerely he answers he still sounds distracted, like he's got to focus entirely too hard on pulling the words together. Because Eddie's always distracting, and he's at his most distracting when he's in his lap and his mouth is on him. Or just when his mouth is on him in general, honestly. It's a problem. ]

Pretty sure I wouldn't get married except for to you, Spagheddie, hate to break it to you. I mean, shit, how long were you a girl in my material until I figured out nobody was gonna try to have me fired over the fact I like a dick in my mouth after dinner on Friday nights if they didn't have me fired over the rest of the crap that comes out of my mouth regularly?

[ Fortunately, there's lips on his to quiet whatever else might have spilled out. So he returns the kiss, lazy but heartfelt, one hand moving to cup his cheek. ]

Either way, yeah. End result is pretty damn great.

( There's another smile as Eddie listens to Richie exhale and yet still manages to answer him despite how well (and Eddie is doing really well!) in distracting him with the messy kisses he continues to press against his skin. Honestly he isn't even sure why he's trying so hard because he could very well distract Richie by just folding the laundry or picking the correct avocadoes at the store. )

You're such a sappy bastard, I swear. Still I can't imagine myself married to anyone else either even though my mom was really set on that one girl I dated briefly in college.

( It's a good thing he got out of that situation and away from his mom along with the shadow that he had cast over his life for so long. Meeting Richie, getting together even if their first date had been a hilarious disaster but somehow had ultimately ended up here with a happy marriage.

It leaves Eddie smiling as he shifts closer, moving their hips together and breathing out small gasp from the contact. God- he loves this man and, yeah, he's not great about getting his shit and words together sometimes but he hopes Richie knows. He hopes Richie understands. )

Mmm. It was either figuring that out though or keep dodging TMZ asking you about said mysterious girlfriend and why were you always bringing your friend to all these events. Or, you know, all the Saturday morning brunches and vacations together. You could have probably fucked me on stage and they still would have referred to me as just your "good friend."

( Not that he can't laugh about it now because it is funny. It had been a little harder in practice though but his concern had always been about Richie's future and career. That's why he's glad that everyone took to his coming out so well and now Eddie can hold his hand in public or how he isn't worried about sliding a hand under his husband's shirt now in their own home as they kiss. )

I think we can make this a little better though. Don't you think?

How fucking hot would that have been, though.

[ He says like it wouldn't have scared him shitless at the time, but now, when he's comfortable and it's clear nobody gives a shit. Now he'd fuck him on the stage in front of an empty theater if he wanted. Hell, he'd fuck him backstage with everybody waiting for him if Eddie wanted it.

But Eddie rocks against him and he answers the movement eagerly, one hand resting on his hip to keep him flush as he rolls up to meet him, an unsteady huff of breath answering it as he kisses him back, slow and lingering, like they've got all the time in the world. The hand on his skin is warm as it slips under his shirt, and he holds onto the kiss as long as he can stand, until he needs to breathe, and only answers him then. ]

Oh, we could make this a lot better. Got any particular ideas?

Well, yeah, maybe but I don't care how hot it might have been. I am not having my dick show up on fucking TMZ or twitter.

( Not that Eddie hasn't thought about things when they're alone in the green room together before or after one of Richie's shows. Yeah, sure, they're old as fuck but he can't deny there is a lot of love between them that they both are too eager to express whenever they could find the time. It doesn't help things like now when he's got so many fucking memories and feelings swimming around his head from every moment he had as a teenager now coming back to him like a freight train.

He breathes out another pleasurable sound as Richie moves his hips to meet him. It blocks out the rest of the thoughts running through his brain about Maine, scars and friends he had forgotten until this afternoon. Nothing else in this world seems to matter in this moment expects for the two of them and Eddie is intent on having this moment last as long as possible.

He sits back just enough to push Richie's shirt up so he can lean in close, dragging his tongue over one of his nipples and breathing out a huff of air. )

Yeah - you getting this fucking shirt off to start but... ( And he swallows with a looking upwards with a soft look. ) I just don't wanna think about any of this shit, Rich. I want to forget about everything except for you.

Please, they gotta censor that shit, Eddie my love. Even as glorious a cock as yours.

[ But he's happy to seize on the moment, on focusing on the man in his lap rather than the other shit. The trace of tongue pulls a low groan out of him before he manages to coordinate enough to pull his shirt off. ]

Okay. So we won't. We worry about us, the rest of the shit can wait.

(no subject)

respirations - 2021-05-20 23:05 (UTC) - Expand