respirations | ― open post.

❪ 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. ❫

❪ 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. ❫

❪ 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. ❫

here, here, here, here, here

Edited 2019-10-08 22:02 (UTC)

— continued from here.

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

***** 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.....

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.

❪ 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.

❪ 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?

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.

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?

❪ 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.

❪ 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. ❫

❪ 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. ❫

(( 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

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

Alright.....

Soooo....

Don't get pissed.

So....

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

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]

I'm fucking you into the new year tonight.

( 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. )

Did you snag my Street Fighter hoodie?

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

My McDonald's gift card is expired!!!

😔

( 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?

( 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?

[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?

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