respirations | ― open post.

❪ 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...

[In hindsight, absolutely losing his damn mind probably wasn't becoming of someone of his social stature. Photographs had been taken, choice words were said, and it's only because of his influence that he gets to walk away. The other guy looked a lot worse than either of them because the minute Eddie had a busted nose all Richie saw was red.

He had to be physically pulled off the other man, it got ugly, and despite knowing what he'd been through himself he's still not sure this was ever really in him. Not something he would've ever been capable of before.

The dark purple bruise on his eye, fractures down past his cheek, black and slightly bloody. A couple of scuffs, nothing serious.]

I'm fine. I'll be - I'll be fine. Let me see you.

[In the dark of the bar, and the darker silent ride home in the uber he hadn't gotten to see. Hadn't gotten to take care of him like he was supposed to.

No, he spent too much time one fist after another into the absolute asshole that threw the punch at Eddie and maybe that was the problem.

A sore bloody hand finds Eddie, trying to keep him close and desperate to ensure that so he doesn't walk away for that first aid kit so soon.]

Are you okay? Jesus, Eddie. I just remember you getting hit.

[Everything after the blackout into rage and before getting peeled off by officers is lost on him. He can remember Eddie screaming, can't remember what he'd said and just so many people and way too much adrenaline.]

❪ he scoffs at richie's words, ready to protest but suddenly he has a hand on him and eddie can't help but be drawn closer in to rich. despite the blood, he knows it isn't broken but fuck if it isn't sore and he can't help flinching away from any touch near his face currently. ❫

I'll be fine. ❪ he repeats, licking at his upper lip and immediately regretting it as he tastes blood. ❫ It's not that big of a deal, really. Could've been worse.

❪ could have been a hell of a lot worse if the guy hadn't been so distracted by rich. he tries not to think about it though and lets his hands come up to gently, softly hold richie's face and stare at him with a terribly sad look. ❫

I thought you were gonna kill that guy, Rich. You scared the shit out of me.

Edited 2019-10-10 04:18 (UTC)

[Eddie's playing it off, for his benefit and he knows it. It's a knife twisting sharply somewhere in his gut. Eddie wasn't just scared for him, he was scared of him. At the moment, he was no better than the psychos that he'd been hazed by as a child and even with turnabout being fair play Richie feels it, knows he has a body count. Knows that some chord was struck deep within him, maybe snapped, picked off completely.

You scared the shit out of me.

It's not the shit he ever thought he'd hear, and even with the gesture of sweetness, it stings like fresh salt in the gash on his cheek. He reaches up and pushes Eddie's hand away with fresh dewiness to his eyes.]

I need -

[Well, he's not really sure, Richie knows there's not a goddamn therapist on the planet capable of sussing this out. He stiffly toes out of his shoes.]

God, honestly I don't even fucking know. Maybe I'm broken. I don't - I don't know anymore.

[Richie's eyes fall closed and his hand his the bridge of his own nose, he's trying not to cry. Trying desperately not be more obvious than he's already being.]

❪ it's certainly more complicated than eddie cares for because, at the end of the day, he trusts richie. trusts him with his life and tonight hasn't changed that but he can't deny that he wasn't scared because it was a side of him that he hadn't ever seen before come out like that.

still, it also hurts when rich pushes his hands away and he sort of just awkwardly stands there looking at the empty space where richie had been just now. he breathes in deeply through his nose, blinking once and then following to where the other has moved to toe off his shoes. ❫

You're not broken.

❪ if he has to make one thing clear then let it be that much. he has to bring wrist up, wiping blood on the back of his sleeve as he approaches although he lingers to give him space there is an awkwardness to his stance. it's clear he wants to reach out, draw him close but he also knows the need for time alone. ❫

I got hurt, you reacted. Shit happens and we'll figure this out, okay?

[Richie rounds the corner a small few steps away to the nearest bathroom in their place to the tune of the reassurance that he wasn't broken. Richie knew better than to assume he'd ever be anything but.

It's not like him, even at his angriest to be so violent. He's more likely to collapse in on himself and always had been until tonight. A part of him, however small, was still that kid in Derry, rocking back and forth on the civic bench trying not to break down because of lousy truths he couldn't control.

This was just another truth, but when he does come back he closes the distance with Eddie, some soft towelettes in hand, and gently presses it to the side of his nose. Grimacing when he has to apply pressure to stop some of the bleeding.]

I don't know that there's anything to figure out. We all came out of Derry changed. Maybe not all of us for the better.

[The implication was clear, it's never been like this, never so easy for him to completely fly off the handle. Sure, he'd do anything to protect Eddie but going too far like this, it wasn't him, not after what he'd dealt with growing up.

He knew better. It's somewhere around cleaning the rest of the blood off of Eddie's face that his hands start to shake. It's not an easy thing to hide when you're trying to care for someone.]

❪ once again, eddie is left standing awkwardly when the cuff of his sleeve pressed to his face and his gaze on where richie had vanished. it isn't long before he returns though and gently presses some towelettes to his face, eddie flinching slightly at the flash of pain but keeping close to rich. ❫

Yeah, maybe but we came out of there with the others. With each other this time.

❪ he sniffles slightly, hands coming to find and grip at richie's coat with a small pull because, yeah, it's hard not to notice. it's hard not to hurt once he sees richie start to shake.

carefully, as not to smear blood on him, he takes one of richie's hand and kisses his palm with a soft sigh. he isn't sure where to start making this better, wonders if he can do anything to make this better. ❫

[The fact that they'd made it out at all was miraculous, and the deep well of shit they had to go through, in some ways literally, still stayed with him. Richie hadn't ever considered that he might still be fucked up over it. When Eddie came back from the brink of death he occupied all his time and energy seeing to him like some nervous sort of hummingbird, constantly on the move, always hovering.

It's only until recently that they'd been able to really ease into the comfort of being together. The divorce had been finalized, and Richie had been there through all of it, which as unfortunate as it made him feel was probably fort he best. Myra had the same stronghold that Sonia did, and Eddie and his empathy made him a sitting duck.

After what it took and the sheer determination of it all, Richie figured he was resolute. That's where he was wrong. His fists were bloody, and he knows he broke them open but it's hard to know whether the majority of it was his blood or if most of it belonged to the asshole at the bar.

The kiss to his palm first gets a small wince, a sad fondness follows his eyes there after.]

I'm so sorry, Ed.

❪ he doesn't like to think about the miracle that was their escape from that sewer. some days, after all, are better than others but eddie's reminded of that day every time he gets dressed or his lungs stutter in a weird way. he's a lot more proud of his scars than before but they're a bitter reminder that all of this might not have happened and that a piece of him (a piece of all of them) was left in that hell cave under neibolt.

the apology hurts more than he cares to admit and eddie can only shake his head, lips brushing against richie's palm before he turns the hand over and looks over the broken skin on his knuckles. fingers ghosting over the broken skin and his body shuddering with a sigh. ❫

I'm sorry too, Rich but we'll figure this out. Together, okay? ❪ he murmurs, nudging him back gently to the couch. ❫ Now let me go get my first aid kit. I wanna clean up your hands before you end up with some infection.

I thought you wouldn't be able to fucking look at me. After all that. Wouldn't want me around.

[Sharing how he feels has never been a strong suit for him, but all the gentle kissing and the injuries and alcohol of the night have opened him up and left him a little more inhibited.

Richie sits down when he's told, it's not like he doesn't know where the kit is, and he sits back, and lets his arms fall into his lap. The events of the night keep cycling through his head like a broken reel of tape and it's impossible not see the absolute worst of himself in those moments. Something in him had snapped.]

❪ he vanishes into the kitchen for a minute to dig out one of the many kits that eddie has left around their place. safety, he had said. never mind he's also just a neurotic mess of a human. whatever the case, he returns with it in hand and toes off his shoes before settling in on the couch.

popping the kit open, he arranges a few things and listens as rich talks with a pang of hurt. he swallows and breathes out a sigh as he tears open an alcohol wipe, gently taking one of richie's hand into his own and carefully beginning to clean up the blood. ❫

I spent nearly three decades wanting you without realizing it. We went through a literal hell and back together. I'm not gonna leave you, Rich. You're stuck with me.

[Richie definitely winces a bit at the alcohol, his eyes scrunch up, but beyond that, there's no real reaction. It's difficult to have normal reactions to pain after everything the two of them had been through. It smarts but that's about all he can say for it, his hands are already a little black and blue, bruising over some of the knuckles because of impact.]

It still fucking happens. I just want to be with you, y'know? I should be allowed to be with you.

[The last part is spoken mostly to himself, he pulls his phone out with the hand Eddie's not working on, and there are six new messages from his PR consultant, his manager, shit on twitter, so much for keeping a low profile.]

This might be a bad time, but I'm not seeing much room for recourse. I'm gonna have to tell people why I lost it, and that means you might have to be in the picture too. Is that okay? I know shit's still pretty fresh, but I want to make it clear I'm not on some fluke out of control binge or something.

❪ eddie can't help but frown as the blood gives way to the beginnings of bruises that are already forming. once he's pleased enough with his cleaning, he sets the dirty wipe aside and digs around for the triple antibiotic to smear it over the open wounds that he's cleaned. ❫

I know. You're the only thing that matters though, Rich. Not what that jackasses or anyone else says. We're gonna stay together.

❪ he watches rich's movements with his phone curiously. his is still in his coat pocket but he's felt it go off more than once and wonders if one of the other losers have already seen what has happened. once rich starts talking, he has eddie's attention and he listens quietly before nodding. ❫

Yeah, of course, it's fine. Whatever you need to do, okay? I'll be fine.

[The treatment is fair and there's something intimate about them cleaning each other up that gives him soft eyes again, it's been such a journey to get to where they are now and Eddie's so grateful.]

We should take a vacation, let this all blow over. Where do you want to go?

[It's the best idea he's had in a while and city life was compact and their day to day was routine, they deserved to splurge a little bit and he could post to his social media through all that, when he felt more up to it.]

I'll handle the rest when it fucking comes. They're gonna ask questions but I'm the one with the answers, so, my terms.

❪ with the wounds clean, he goes about setting the bandages in place and then wrapping them gently with gauze. eddie can't help taking a moment to admire his work before pressing another kiss to richie's fingers with a chuckle at his question. ❫

Somewhere where it's just us and fuck all. Mountains, desert, fucking Nebraska prairie.

❪ because it's been awhile since they've gotten their lives back on track after he was cleared and they moved out here, settled in and returned to work separately. it's been harder at times when rich is gone or he's working late so the idea of a vacation or just fucking off and getting away sounds like a dream. ❫

Yeah, well, I'll do what I can to help. ❪ he says as he sets one hand down and reaches for the other. ❫ Or just sit around looking pretty, fucking whatever. I'm gonna be with you if I can.

As fun as that sounds I was thinking something more like Cabo or Puerto Vallarta, but sure let's go to like Akron, Ohio - I guess.

[The smile on his face is telling, yes, Richie might be flashier than most but an out of the country trip to Mexico and a resort would be on his dime, well his career's dime and that would afford them all the time they'd need together.

He moves to offer the other hand, taking a look at Eddie's handiwork with an appreciative grin.]

You still got it, Dr. K. Both, the answer is both. If we're going on this vacation we're going to do it right.

Ooh, Akron. Fucking fancy there, Rich. I thought we were only at the Toledo, or maybe Cleveland, stage of this relationship.

❪ eddie, in turn, can't help but smile with a huff of laughter. god, he loves seeing rich smile. it's more than enough to smooth any of the panic still lingering in his system. ❫

But, uh, let's see— Mazatlán, Isla Mujeres. You know I don't think I've had a fucking vacation since my honeymoon. ❪ if one could call it a vacation.

still, he grins in response to richie's comment and continues his work on the other hand. soon enough, finishing it as well but keeping a hold of the hand in both of his. ❫

We're gonna go, Rich. You don't need to convince me of anything.

― open post.

magics something hopefully reasonable together

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