respirations | ― open post.

― open post.

EDDIE KASPBRAK it: chapter 2

voice strength: ★★★★★
shipping: i'm reddie trash but i'm also all about that platonic love with the other losers
preferences: gen, smut, shippy, angst, au, cross-canon, slice of life.
notes: for some fun starting points: some random assortment of memes and aus for days; feel free to go the other worldly route; also throw pics or random sentences at me and a kink generator because why not.

hit me up for starters if you'd like. there's no crying in baseball but there is crying in my rp but let's have fun, ok.

picture prompts • quote prompts • music prompts • etc

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm fucking you into the new year tonight.

That a promise, dickwad?

If your weak ass can stay up past 9.

Then don't fucking bore me and maybe I'll stay up for once.

Big words from someone who kept begging for my dick this morning.

Like I have to beg. You get hard and start begging by just watching me fold laundry.

You fold laundry sexy.

I fold laundry like a normal person which you would know if you folded laundry.

Laundry is perfectly fine when tossed on a near by chair or the floor.

[You did this to yourself, Eddie. ]

No it's not. It's fucking gross, dude. So there better not be any on the floor or chair when I get home.

How is fucking laundry on a chair gross, dude?

Or what?

Because it just is. It's fucking gross and lazy.

Or you and your hand can greet in the New Year on the couch.

It is not.

Chill out, man.

Whatever. I'll be home in a little bit.

What's your deal, dude?

Nothing, Rich. Like I said, I'll be home in a little bit.

Doesn't really seem that way.

Guess I'll just go fuck myself.

Later.

There isn't a lot to be said after that and Eddie casually tosses the phone into his passenger seat. The drive home isn't exactly one that he cares for (traffic doesn't make it any better) and once he reaches their home. He sits in the driveway for a long minute and considers his phone before gathering his stuff to head inside with a tired sound. This entire day had been one shit show after another and a fight with Richie isn't exactly something he wants to deal with either.

So after lingering at the door, he pushes his way inside and quietly shuts it behind him. The house is oddly quiet but he imagines that Richie is probably holed up somewhere. Still it's weird to not immediately be greeted at the doorway and, once more, he lingers before dropping his things off in their usual places. A part of him wants to call out and make it known that he's home but simply makes his way into their living space before collapsing onto the couch. The stress of the work day (and now the stress at home) is doing a number on his chest.

Already he can feel that awkward, stuttered wheeze that is just his breathing now but also somewhere in there is the old way of doing things- of wanting to fall into a panic attack. He got rid of his inhaler ages ago but now, more than ever, he wants to reach into his pocket and find it. Now without it he can only cover his face and level his breathing, count to ten and try to find something good to grasp onto.

Richie doesn't bother sending any more messages. He's learned its best to leave Eddie alone when he's this level of irritated. Usually Richie would push until Eddie reached a breaking point that led to rough, dirty sex but in this particular moments Eddie almost seemed fragile, Richie's intentions were never to make Eddie even more upset and angry. So he just lets the situation be, what else could he really do? He isn't exactly good with this whole relationship thing.

Maybe that's why Eddie is so frustrated?

When Eddie does arrive home he'll notice that the house is rather clean. Richie tried his damn best to follow the chore list Eddie had left for him on the refrigerator, each one color coated. It's a struggle to get into this kind of routine but at least he's making an effort? It keeps his mind occupied while Eddie is at work, Richie isn't exactly having an easy time with being out of work himself. He's grown accustomed to bouncing all over the world, long nights and sold out shows. That pandemic has near drove him crazy.

He can't help that he gets a little bored and lonely while Eddie is gone.

He doesn't even notice that Eddie had already made it back home, he's set up in his small office in order to work on some new material, ear buds blasting heavily within his ears while he tries to focus. He's not getting much of anywhere.

After a long moment of pure shit, he pushes himself up to head towards the kitchen. Maybe a fucking poptart will help?

All things considered their relationship (in Eddie's mind) had been going pretty well. It was new for the both of them, obviously. Still they were both determined to make it work despite literally everything that had gotten in the way of them even reaching this point. Sometimes he wonders if maybe he pushed things to far, to fast in the aftermath of his divorce and recovery from his near life ending injury.

It wasn't like he was any better at this whole relationship thing. He had spent most of his life convinced that love was just some fucked up notion that someone like him wasn't all that worthy of considering the way he had been treated by his mother and his wife. Richie was different though and, god, maybe he just wanted too much from him? It isn't uncommon for him to be scared of that little fact from time to time like the damn sewer clown was still lurking around the corner.

It's with another shaky breath of air that Eddie pushes up from his spot on the couch and makes his way into the kitchen. He isn't sure what he wants but he knows that he needs to keep moving before that panic attack really does set in.

By the time Richie leaves his office and reaches the kitchen, he'll find Eddie with two drinks. There's a bout of surprise that appears on his features before he looks away and breathes out a sigh.

"Hey," he says lightly, carefully as if trying to test the waters. Ultimately though he reaches out and holds the drink out-- something strong and very alcoholic.

Richie always assumed their relationship was going pretty well too considering what shit they were both put through. Perhabs Richie had asked for too much? Eddie had given up a great deal for him once he packed up his bags and moved to LA. True Eddie had left an awful, toxic marriage but he truly did like his job, just as he loved New York. Richie had been selfish to ask so much of Eddie, maybe the other man needed space? Time to heal from his shitty marriage and an injury that near took his own life.

Richie knew he wasn't perfect, he was a shit boyfriend, a fucking train wreck of a person. He's spent so much of his life living in denial, refusing to accept his own sexuality out of both fear and embarrassment. He had never been in a real, solid relationship. Most of his encounters were all random hook-ups and one night stands. Richie had only ever loved one man, that man was Eddie. Was he being too clingy? Maybe he was showering Eddie too much with his riches and Eddie just wanted something simple and normal? Could he possibly not be doing enough?

Eddie also wasn't the only one who went without some type of fear. Richie often wondered himself if maybe the fucking clown could find a way back and destroy them all one by one. He doesn't mention or bring up the unpleasant nightmares he has, its best not to send Eddie in a fit of worry.

He's caught by surprise when he rounds the kitchen and spots Eddie, he gives a slight jump of shock while screaming out a sharp "Fuck!" His hands reach up to yank out his earbuds and he makes an attempt to calm down his now racing heart.

"H-hey", he returns softly, a hand reaching to take the offered glass. He sets it aside the moment he notices Eddie's breathing is ragged and struggling. Admittedly his expression falls worrisome as he reaches for his boyfriend's free hand.

"Are you about to?"

Although he's focused in on Richie as the other man walks into the kitchen there is still a jump from Eddie as he reacts. It's more contained because Eddie doesn't want to drop the fucking drinks everywhere even as he yells and reaches up to yank out of his earbuds. There is a pause as Eddie chews on his bottom lip but continues to hold out his reach so Richie can take the glass despite him quickly setting it aside.

He swallows hard at the question as he lets the touch linger before knocking back a needed drink from his glass. Eddie thinks of breaking down and saying everything that is bothering him but ultimately he shakes his head with another drink. "I'm okay," he murmurs with a soft sound. "It's just been a long day."

Which is an understatement to say the least but there is still a part of him that doesn't know how to let himself be truthful. For so long, Eddie had kept everything to himself - first with his mother and then with his wife. He doesn't want that to continue to Richie but he doesn't that to continue with Richie, he wants to be honest and explain his thoughts but ―

"Sorry," he begins. "About the texts, I mean. I didn't mean to ruin, you know, the mood."

Richie hadn't expected Eddie to be home this soon, he also hadn't been paying too much attention to the time. He had been so focused on getting his mind off being in a small argument with Eddie, fall outs between the two had been occurring a lot the past week and it was making Richie uneasy. For days he had been wondering what he had done wrong. He and Eddie would bicker but nine times out of ten it was their own way of showing affection. This was different, Eddie was truly irritated and upset. Richie didn't know how to fix it, he made attempts but it only seemed to frustrate Eddie more.

He watches carefully as his boyfriend tips back a strong drink, Eddie doesn't appear to angry but more exhausted. Odviously something is nagging at his mind or he wouldn't have been so snippy. Richie can't force Eddie to be open when he truly hasn't been himself but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt Richie when Eddie can't be open with him about his concerns and issues. Richie couldn't improve on being a better boyfriend if Eddie was too closed off to have serious conversations. "Right", he'll just agree with a nod of his head. Eddie wasn't alright, he could see it in his boyfriend's wide eyes.

"Don't worry about it, man. It was fucking stupid anyway." Eddie didn't seem to be in the mood for Richie's playfulness. "You can go chill in bed if you want? I changed the bedding as you instructed in the chore list. Blankets are fresh."

There is a silent moment where Eddie simply watches Richie as he talks. There is a noted beat of almost sadness in his eyes but he ultimately sighs and glances away toward the backsplash over their oven. "It's not stupid," he murmurs with another look in Richie's direction. "So don't act like that, okay? Things are just weird right now, I guess. It's hard to explain but―"

But he wants to try. He just isn't sure where to start with all of this and lifts his glass as if to take another drink but ultimately sets it back down. This wasn't fair to Richie, he knew that and the last thing he wanted was for him to blame himself for Eddie's own fucking problems. There is another stuttered breath of air from him and he raises a hand to chest to press against his scar, eyes closed and finally breathing out a sigh.

"I got an email from Myra," he finally says in a quiet voice. "She had a lot of things to say, none of it nice. It's put a lot on my mind."

To say the least but once against he looks up at his boyfriend with another tired look and moves his hand (away from his scar) and toward Richie's hand.

Almost instantly Richie can feel his own features tighten at Eddie's words. Don't act like that? How is he supposed to act when every emotion he tries to offer only sends Eddie more into a mood? And how is it his boyfriend can easily act as if everything is perfectly fine (when it isn't!) and that's the end of the discussion? Weird? That's a fucking understatement but Richie isn't going to add to the fire.

Instead he will cross his arms over his chest and wait. Eddie is either going to come forward with his problem or nothing is going to be resolved, just more days of pointless arguments and more nights spent without intimacy. The moment Eddie places a hand over the scar that now plagues his skin, Richie finds himself moving closer in preparation for a panic attack to trigger at any given moment.

It's when Eddie mentions her name that Richie's own body tenses with discomfort. Myra had been an absolute nightmare ever since Eddie had left New York, for months she would torment Eddie in every way possible. Richie had tried his best to convience his boyfriend to get a restraining order but Eddie refused, thankfully Eddie found his own way to avoid her.

"I thought you blocked her?" Months had passed since the last time Eddie had even mentioned his ex-wife's name. "What the fuck did she say, Eds?"

― open post.

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