respirations | ― open post.

❪ it's like a dam breaking. one memory comes through and suddenly he's awash with bits and pieces of others, nothing solid to hold on to but everything is there despite being in pieces.

holy shit. holy fucking shit.

eddie considers sitting back down but he sort of just wobbles backwards instead, his hand on richie's shoulder the only thing keeping him from falling over onto the floor and remaining there until this made sense. although he doubts it'll be that simple. nothing so far has proven simple and he can't help the awkward little wheeze he gives as a thought strikes him. ❫

Were we... together? Like together together? ❪ that doesn't make any fucking sense but neither has anything else since he came back to this fucking town. ❫

[ richie stays quiet, but when eddie begins to wobble like that he instinctively reaches out to put his own hand on the other's shoulder, steadying him. his own legs feel weak but being around eddie makes it easy to feel strong, so he doesn't worry about falling over just yet.

he hates this. hates the flashes of events that appear behind his eyelids each time he blinks, hates the way his gut churns as he realizes the memories continue past that summer and the next summer and the next. hates the sound that eddie makes before he asks that stupid fucking question. ]

I don't know, [ richie says, but his voice is so small and wavering that it's pretty obviously a lie. he doesn't want it to be real because what the fuck, how do you - how do you date someone, how do you fall in love and then just fucking forget about it?! ]

I don't know, [ he says again, trying to make himself believe his own falsehood. ] I - I don't know how - how would I forget that? How did I forget --

[ you, he doesn't finish. ]

❪ he can't help the way he jolts slightly when richie's hand comes to rest on his shoulder. it's like all the forgotten memories are slowly overcoming him, weighing down and making it hard to remain upright. more than anything, he can't help the awkward wheeze that has started up with every breath he takes. ❫

You're a shit liar, Richie. ❪ eddie shots back with a stuttered voice as he gasps for a needy breath of air and—

and another memory. they're older or, at least, richie looks taller. all gangling looking with long arms and legs and a mess of hair. eddie's near hyperventilating though as they sit, foreheads pressed together and richie whispering things that he can't quite remember. whatever is said seems to work though, his breathing slows and manages the smallest of smiles. ❫

I need my inhaler. ❪ it comes out small, wobbly as he makes a movement to get by richie. his inhaler is in his room covered in his and bower's blood but that seems easier to deal with than all this. ❫

[ normally, richie would fire back some sort of insult at that, or maybe a witty joke. something to change the atmosphere, to put things back in his own control. when people were laughing it was easy to hide the things you didn't want them to see.

but he can't do that right now. he's too taken in by that wheeze, by the way eddie jumps when he touches him, when --

they're in bed together for the first time and everything is quiet, because it's 3am and they can't make noise or eddie's mom will hear them. it's too hot to sleep, so they're just in their underwear and when richie presses his too-tall, too-skinny body up against eddie's back he hears that sound, a booming echo in the silence. ]

Eddie --

[ he doesn't think before he reaches down to wrap his fingers around eddie's wrist, trying to keep him there. richie doesn't know what to do but he doesn't want to be left here by himself with those memories. ]

❪ the fingers around his wrist get another jolt out of him. eddie is trying to keep himself calm, slow his breathing and keep himself from hyperventilating like his body wants so badly to do in the moment.

he can't even look at rich for a moment but finally his gaze flickers up and he gives another shaky sound. ❫

Richie, I can't breathe.

❪ "richie, you jackass, i can't breathe." he's near yelling. they're on the floor of richie's room surrounded by action figures, comics and a discarded game of street fighter still on the tv. he knows he doesn't have to be quiet, he knows rich's parents aren't ever home and it's one of the few times they don't have to worry. maybe that's why richie is so eager to smother him with kisses again and leaving him unable to do anything but laugh. ❫

I can't— ❪ so he does the only thing that makes sense and presses his head into richie's shoulder, his own shoulders heaving as he tries to find his breath. ❫

Edited 2019-09-30 01:10 (UTC)

[ eddie can't breathe. richie knows this, understands it, and yet he isn't willing to let go. there have been so many times (he remembers them now, every single one is coming back to him thanks to those three words) that eddie's said that and it hasn't been true, that he's just been fooling himself into believing he needs help to survive when he's always been brave and strong enough on his own.

richie's face crumples when he feels eddie press against him, and it takes absolutely no time or thought to bring his own hand up to press against the back of the other man's head, cradling him like he might break at any moment. ]

Yes you can, [ he whispers, the words issuing from his mouth at the same time they appear in his mind, along with -

eddie taking his hand as they walk through the streets of derry in the middle of the summer, past crowds of people visiting for the carnival. they're older now, high school seniors, and yet the fear that fills richie's heart is the same as it was that day in the arcade when bowers called him out. ]

Just breathe, Ed. [ richie swallows back the lump in his throat and tries his best not to give away the fact that he's shaking. how could this just disappear? how did he ever allow himself to let go? ] I'm here.

❪ there's no jolt when richie touches him this time. instead, he near relaxes into the touch that is so familiar its near suffocating. yet another memory on the tip of his tongue. it's overwhelming as he tries to keep up with everything literally slamming back into him like a freight train.

they're laying together in the back street of richie's car. some beat-up old thing older than the both of them but they've spent near all summer in it together just driving around and exploring the edges outside of derry but never much further.

always talking about the what ifs and maybes, laughing about their future outside of this fucking town.

but then what happened? how could they ever have forgotten something like this so utterly and completely? he gets missing childhood memories, not everyone remembers their entire childhood but everything him and rich shared?

if he wasn't already shaking because of his breathing, he's sure he'd be shaking from a combination of the fear and anger currently welling up. ❫

You're here. ❪ he repeats and lets himself listen to richie's own breathing; tries to copy it and help calm himself down. ❫ You're fine and I'm fine. I'm fine.

❪ this entire exchange... it's so familiar that it hurts. ❫

We're fine.

[ he gets the words out with only a little difficulty. it feels like his throat's closing up; his eyes are burning because he doesn't want to let the moisture collecting at the corners of his eyes turn into actual tears. the realization of what they had - what they were - should be happy, but all he can feel is pain.

was this his fault? what happened? after that last summer together...

he's driving away and eddie isn't there

this time the images are broken, distorted -

he passes the bridge where he'd carved their initials and they're faded

the pictures in his head don't make sense, there's no logic to them -

he's in new york and he sees a couple on the street, the man is so small next to the woman and richie pauses because something feels wrong

- and then the memories run out, like a film reel with nothing left on it. just a whirring machine with no purpose, nothing to show. ]

Eddie, [ he mumbles, tilting his head so he can press his cheek to the other's hair, his eyes squeezing shut and those tears finally falling. ] I'm sorry --

Edited (formatting!! /shakes fist) 2019-09-30 02:56 (UTC)

We're fine.

❪ how many times had they sat, laid or held hand saying the exact same thing throughout those years? it's like a tidal wave of memories full of things he shouldn't have forgotten. so many firsts lost to the haze that had been infecting them for almost twenty-seven years.

he's sitting in class, his second year of university and doing some stupid student survey. the relationship question, he finds, throws him into an odd loop— he marks single.

everything is a flickering mess of memories that don't all make sense.

his breath is coming out in hurried wheezes. he's muttering to himself, familiar words told to him before but myra pushes his inhaler in his hand and they're forgotten.

they jump around, never sticking to one singular period of time.

he's flickering through channels when he stops on a comedy special and finds himself staring too hard. the joke is about his girlfriend and it just... doesn't right? before he can figure it out though, myra is already changing the channel and complaining about foul mouthed, trashy people.

quietly, he shifts just enough so he can bring his free hand up to touch richie's face and swallow hard. it sparks a whole new round of memories as he cups his cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb and finally breathing in a more settled manner. ❫

... I missed you. I've missed you so much and didn't have a fucking clue.

[ richie hates this. he hates crying, especially in front of other people. but the feeling of eddie's thumb brushing tears off his cheek, the touch of his palm against richie's skin, makes new - no, old - memories tumble through his brain so fast they're blurry.

they're sixteen, and bowers called him a faggot again and this time richie can't hide how much it hurts but eddie is there, holding him and kissing his tears away with promises of leaving this town together someday. ]

Eddie, [ he repeats, not knowing what else to say. his voice is weak but he holds on to the other man tighter now, as if he'll disappear if richie lets go. ] I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry --

[ they tell the others one day and everyone laughs at them because they've been so fucking obvious, but later on richie can't help crying about it because he'd been so afraid they would all hate him, so scared they would cast him out the way he knows his parents will if they ever figure out what he really is.

he's trying not to cry but he breaks down anyway, sobs building in his chest until he's hanging on to eddie for support just as much as he's holding the other man up. ]

I forgot you, I fucking -- I forgot fucking everything, what the fuck?!

Edited 2019-09-30 13:49 (UTC)

❪ he feels at such a loss. there's a million and one thoughts running through his head but nothing sticks, nothing makes sense and he feels utterly useless in the moment. if eddie thinks on it, he can probably count on his hands the number of times he's seen richie cry but nothing he remembers feels useful now.

and rich isn't just crying, he's full on being rockes with sobs and all eddie can do is hold on. finally, he shuffles on his feet and moves to get richie sitting on the tiolet seat before they both fell over. ❫

Hey, hey. Listen to me... none of this is our fucking fault. You heard what Mike said about our memories.

❪ he's holding richie's face in both of his hands now, weakly rubbing away at the tears and trying to keep his own breathing in check.

honestly, he'd probably cry too if he wasn't so pissed off. ❫

It's all because of that fucking clown. That thing... It fucked with our memories.

[ this is stupid, richie shouldn't be crying - hell, he should be taking care of eddie like's supposed to be doing. eddie is the one that got stabbed, after all. besides, it's not as though richie's the only one dealing with this sudden flood of emotions.

it takes a couple of minutes, but once eddie's got him sitting down it's easier to calm himself down. he removes his glasses with one shaky hand so he can rub his face with the other, his eyes red and swollen.

"None of this is our fucking fault."

he's standing with eddie on the kissing bridge. it's the day after bev moved out of derry - the first of them to leave - and nothing feels right anymore. ]

But we were -- [ he can't even bring himself to say it out loud, for fucks' sake. swallowing, he stares up at eddie through blurry eyes, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. ]

-- how could I leave you behind?

[ that's the last thing he can remember of their youth, of the day he left derry and followed in the footsteps of the others, heading towards his new life. he left, and eddie stayed. ]

❪ eddie can only stand there awkwardly holding richie's face hoping it's offering some comfort as he wipes away at the tears. there's a part of him that feels like crying too but knows that richie probably needs this right now and, so, he holds it together for now.

there's always later, much later when he's alone and away from everyone. ❫

What? In love? ❪ it probably comes out a little harsh but he's been flickering through emotions like changing the channels on a television. besides— there's no use beating around the bush. ❫ Some six or seven years too.

❪ which might as well be forever when you're that young. still, the question does give eddie a moment of pause and he finally lets his hands drop and steps back, crossing his arms. ❫

It could have been around the time my mom was getting sick, like, really sick. Not just in her head.

[ In love?

hearing eddie say it makes it more real, somehow, and that just makes it hurt more. despite that, richie manages to ebb the flow of his tears, and after a couple more breathy sobs he forces himself to straighten up and put his glasses back on. ]

Seven years, [ he echoes, shaking his head in disbelief. seven years of being attached at the hip, of feeling his heart burn whenever they're together, gone. just like that.

and now - now eddie is married.

that thought makes eddie want to puke, so he shoves it away and stares at the middle distance between them, doing his best to focus on what eddie's saying. ]

I - remember, [ he says slowly, frowning, as the images trickle into his brain. ] The hospital, the tests. But why would I leave you if -

[ it's the spring of their senior year, and he's in the hospital's waiting room, staring at the ancient tv set as he waits for eddie to finish visiting his mom. a comedy special is airing; just before it cuts to commercial, the host announces some contest the network is running, a chance for upcoming comedians to appear on the program.

the nausea comes back, so strong this time that richie has to cup a hand over his mouth. ]

❪ he's beginning to hate the small space of this bathroom. there's far too much emotion and eddie can't help (finally) wiping at his eyes with a tired sigh.

he's been tired, exhausted beyond words lately. cancer, the doctor had said. first his dad, now his mom and he doubts she'll ever be emotionally stable enough to handle the more complicated workings that comes with the diagnoses. while she lays in the hospital, richie stays over and eddie finally breaks down sobbing one night while curled against richie's chest.

but what happened then? why did rich leave and he―

the doctors think his mother might have a better chance in a bigger city with more specialized care. boston, they suggest, and the cancer center there. it's not something he wants but, despite everything, he can't let his mom go all alone. richie wants to come along too but it would fuck up the deadline for the comedy show contest. they worked their asses off putting the tape together and for what? rich to throw his big chance away because of him?

and, so, he mails it off one night without a word to rich. he's mad but eddie brushes it off, saying, promising― ❫

Because I was going to catch up later. Come be with you after I got everything settled with mom.

❪ they just had no clue that the moment they stepped foot outside of derry things were already turning against them. they had already started forgetting each other. ❫

Edited 2019-10-02 02:34 (UTC)

[ every memory hurts more than the last, driving knives into his heart and twisting them until he's sure he'll bleed out.

he holds eddie close, closer than ever, and just listens to him cry, not knowing how to make it better. there are no jokes that can fix this, no words to dispel the fear filling their hearts. it's the first time richie understands what real fear is - not clowns and mummies and wolfmen, but the hidden diseases that destroy everything before you know they exist.

he looks up and sees eddie crying and it takes less than two seconds for him to surge forward and take the smaller man in his arms. it's instinct more than anything; every fibre of his being burns to take care of him, to make sure nothing ever hurts him again. ]

I'm sorry, [ he says again, his voice tight. he squeezes eddie closer, not wanting to let go. ] I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry --

[ "I'm sorry," he says, and he knows eddie knows what it means before he even reads the letter clutched in richie's hand. eddie's mom just got approved for treatment, and richie had come over to help pack, but he checked his mail first and there it was: his ticket out of derry, the thing they'd dreamed of since they were little kids who didn't know any better. ]

I hate this fucking town, [ he bites out, burying his face in eddie's hair. ]

❪ honestly, eddie is taken off guard when richie surges forward from where he's been sitting and pulls him into a hug. for a moment, he just stands oddly still and it's such a familiar comfort that it brings all that emotion bubbling up once more.

hits him with even more memories that he can't remember forgetting.

it's their last night together before richie leaves. they lay curled together and eddie kisses every inch of skin he finds, hands roaming and trying not to cry again. he wants to put every bit of richie to memory while they're apart. 'but it's okay,' he thinks. 'we'll be together again in a month or two.' ❫

Stop apologizing. ❪ he says with a shake of his head. ❫ I don't you that it wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault.

❪ richie leaves first and he leaves a little over a week later for boston with his mom. they talk on the phone every day and night. eddie can't get over how much he misses rich and how much his absence is truly bothering him. they'd never been apart before then, after all. for seven years they had been stuck together.

then, one day, eddie picks up the phone and he realizes he doesn't know why. although he thinks there is a number he should know there isn't anything that comes to mind. ❫

Y-yeah, I do too. You and the others... you're the only good things about this place.

[ the people they are now wouldn't hug. without these memories, richie would have absolutely no reason to wrap his arms around eddie. but now that he does remember? there's nothing else he'd rather be doing.

eddie is right, of course. neither of them should be apologizing. they hadn't done anything wrong; it was this town's fault - It's fault. all of it.

a deep, shuddering sigh escapes him, and beneath the anger and exhaustion he almost feels relieved. so many things he didn't understand make sense to him now: why he couldn't remember most of his childhood, why there were bits and pieces of his life that never felt right, why he never had a good answer when interviewers asked about his first kiss.

their last kiss is a little like their first. richie is nervous, but it's not because of eddie. it's because, despite all their talks about the future and what they'll do together, the world is still big and scary and he really doesn't want to face it alone.

but he gets into his crappy old car, waves out the window, and leaves his life behind. he does it because doing anything else would betray all the things eddie has done to make this happen.

swallowing, he loosens his hold on eddie and pulls back, not quite sure what to say now. he feels awkward, and - despite the gravity of the situation they're in - this feels so much more important than killing that stupid murder clown. ]

I don't want to forget you again, [ he says at last, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression that's part hopelessness and part determination.

they talk as often as they can, and even that's not enough. richie always tells eddie how good things are, how great he's doing, how much he wishes eddie could come see the show.

he starts to make a name for himself, and before he realizes it he stops getting those calls. at first it feels wrong, like a bad case of deja vu, but eventually it fades into the background just like the rest of derry has. it's all too easy to dive into his work and forget that he ever wanted someone special to sit in that front-row seat. ]

❪ as rich pulls back, loosens his hold, eddie continues to keep a tight hold on his shirt without realizing it. there's a part of him that is scared of letting him go again. a part of him that is scared that there isn't third chances in this horrible ordeal that took twenty years away from them.

fucking hell— how different would things have been if everything had worked out? if he had gotten to california and they had gotten to live the life they had talked about since they were thirteen? it kicks up another bout of emotions, swirling between sadness and an intense anger.

angry because this town, that fucking sewer clown, took everything from them. he wouldn't be in some hapless marriage to a woman worse than his mother. a mother he told off, stood up to once for his friends and promised to be more than what she had deemed was right for him. why would he fall back into that if not because of his lost memories? because he lost richie?

it's summer before their junior year and they're in eddie's backyard talking about the future as they sometimes do. it never goes very far beyond wanting to get out derry, of course but eddie tests the water by mentioning getting married one day in a teasing tone. it wouldn't be anything official, of course but that's what people in love did... right? and he knows he loves richie.

richie, ever the joker, makes a big scene and slaps a snap bracelet on his wrist. eddie balks but richie never did stop smiling. ❫

Fucking hell. ❪ he finally says with a heavy breath, pushing his forehead against richie's shoulder again. resting against the cradle of his neck. ❫ I'm not going to forget you again. I'm not.

❪ he's shaking but he ignores it and keeps a tight hold on richie's shirt. ❫

We can't leave. We have to stay and kill that thing.

[ when he pulls away richie feels a tug on a his shirt, and he's genuinely surprised to realize that it's eddie hanging on to him. it's stupid, but - well - he'd secretly thought that, despite their memories returning, eddie wouldn't feel the same.

it's just been so long, and eddie's got myra now, and even if richie still loves him so much it makes him ache who's to say eddie feels the same?

but there he is, hanging on, and that brings a whole new wave of emotions surging through richie's chest.

that same day that eddie mentions getting married, richie goes out for a late-night walk. there are so many thoughts buzzing around his brain that it's impossible to sleep.

married. to eddie. he hadn't really thought about it before, but... why not? why couldn't they lead normal lives, just like everyone else? move to california and live by the ocean, get a dog and kiss each other every morning and night and forget all about this town?

why couldn't they be happy together?

eddie pushes his face against richie's shoulder and that's all it takes for richie to come right back to him, to loop both arms around eddie's slim form and hug him tighter than ever. he can feel the way eds shakes but it only makes him more determined to keep him close. to keep him safe. ]

We'll kill it. [ it's a promise he makes in a whisper, the words heavy with years and years of forgotten moments that now live in his mind. ] We'll kill that fucking bastard and we'll go to California like we always said we would.

[ he's been in New York for two weeks and he's just gotten his first paycheck from the network. despite the fact that he's been subsisting on nothing but water and instant noodles, the first place richie goes is the pawn shop down the street from his shitty apartment.

it's not fancy. it's not expensive. but, somehow, he knows eddie will like the plain platinum band richie picks out for him.

it sits in his bedside table for the next twenty-seven years,even after he forgets why he bought it in the first place. ]

❪ once richie loops his arms back around him, pulling him in tight against his chest, eddie knows that this is everything. this is what he's been missing for so long. this comfort, this feeling of being protected without being babied and turned against the rest of the world.

he has always felt like something was missing from his life and now he gets it. now he understands.

the whispered promise causes him to go still for a moment. killing that thing was never not option, not anymore, the others made it that clear. everything they had been through since coming back to this town made it clear but he hadn't given much thought to what came after everything finished.

and not richie is saying that they'll leave together and, despite the years lost, it's the only fucking thing that has made sense in this place. ❫

Together. ❪ he says finally with a heavy sigh, leaning back and tilting his head up just enough to see richie's face. ❫ You gotta promise me, Rich.

❪ they're hidden under the thin sheets on richie's bed, breathing hard and hands roaming as they explore one another. it's not often they get chances like this, to be so intimate with one another, so they can making the most of it while rich's folks weren't home for the evening. eddie is sure he is blushing from his head to his toes but ignores it in favor of holding richie's face in his hand, voice breathless as he speaks: "you gotta promise me, rich." he says and watching as the other raises a brow. "promise me—" ❫

Promise me we'll stay together.

[ they all deserve so much more than the world's provided them with. him, eddie,bill, mike, ben, bev, stan - fucking stan - none of them were ever allowed to live their lives the way they truly wanted to. whatever it was that decided to curse this town all those years ago had also decided that their lives were forfeit, that they were little more than playthings to be tormented.

but not any fucking more. richie is sick and fucking tired of living in the spotlight while praying his darkness doesn't come floating to the surface. it's time they all beat the shit out of the old stuff and wiped the slate clean - for good.

he listens to eddie and the despair fades from his face, leaving behind only a fiery determination. this is worth fighting for. eddie, the life they promised each other, all of it.

it's not just about making out when he's with eddie. when they're together like this richie just feels right, as though whatever piece of him was missing has found its way home. eddie is flushed from head to toe and richie loves him, he loves him so fucking much, that when eddie grasps his face and asks for that promise it comes spilling out of richie's lips with zero hesitation.

"I promise," he says, and then, because he can't keep it in any longer -- ]

I love you, Eds.

[ and then, just like all those years ago, he leans forward and presses their lips together. ]

❪ he's sure that his heart is beating so loud now that richie can hear it. blood pounds in his ears and his breath comes quickly but it stills suddenly as those words fall out of his mouth like they haven't been apart for some twenty years.

he feels like a teen again and the first time richie told him. well, not quite because he's not crying like then. not yet anyway because he can feel the burn of tears cloud his vision yet it all melts away once their lips press together.

and, yeah, he's shocked for all a half second like their first kiss but before he can second guess himself, eddie pushes forward to return and deepen the kiss. ❫

Asshole. You can't just drop shit on me like that. ❪ he says despite every kiss that he presses to richie's lips as he rambles. ❫ Do you have any idea how tired I am of crying?

[ richie will never understand what cosmic power could have possibly been strong enough to make him forget this feeling. every single time he's held eddie in his arms comes rushing back to him; every single kiss they've shared is alive again on his lips as they finally begin to recover what they've lost.

it makes his own heart pound, but when eddie kisses him the second time he can't help letting out a happy sort of sobbing sound, his arms squeezing the other man tighter against him.

when they part he chuckles weakly, completely blown away by the magnitude of what he's feeling. a love like this never seemed possible to the version of him that existed only moments ago.

as eddie kisses him over and over again he keeps laughing, soft and breathless, his eyes crinkling up at the corners from the smile he can't erase. ] What, that's all it takes now? [ sniffling, he gives eddie's side a playful tickle. ] Guess I'll have to say it so often you get desensitized, then.

[ it's a promise he more than intends to keep. ]

❪ it's still so hard to believe that he could have forgotten this. in a way, it scares him because he has to wonder just how powerful that creature truly is if it had the power to do something like this. to have erased such powerful emotions from all of them and push their lives in directions they might have originally gone.

but— but eddie tries to ignore those worries for now and focus on rich instead. focus on the happy sound he makes or the way his eyes still crinkle up in the corners when he smiles just like when he had been younger.

honestly, it's painful for him to smile thanks to bowers and his fucking knife but eddie just can't help it. he doesn't think he'll ever stop, at least not right now. ❫

Shut up, idiot. I've been waiting twenty years to hear you say it again and I didn't even know it. ❪ despite his word, he is smiling and sniffles lightly. ❫ I love you, Rich.

❪ he presses another kiss to his lips before pulling back and casting a glance around them. ❫ I love you but I have to get out of this fucking bathroom.

― open post.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

oops hit enter too soon

ugh relatable

(no subject)

sorry for being such a slowpoke T_T ♥

you are perfectly fine ♥♥♥♥

skjdhfskdhf ♥

♥♥