eddie "fuck you, bro" kaspbrak. (
respirations) wrote2025-12-01 12:00 am
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― open post.
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. |
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Guess I'll just go fuck myself.
Later.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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?"
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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."
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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."
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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.
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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?"
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There isn't a part of him that wants this but it is hard to break with what is familiar, comfortable. The pieces of him that has existed since he was a child in the clutches of his mother. As Richie steps closer, he can't help tensing up but looks up with his boyfriend with a saddened look.
Calling Myra a monster in the aftermath of all this was probably an understatement. Eddie tried to understand her in the beginning because he knows (god, he knows) that this had all been so sudden. He had vanished one day and then almost died before dropping this divorce on her. It had been unfair but it was something he had to do if Eddie wanted to move on with his life.
"I didn't think about my old work email," he says lightly, quietly. "The usual― you know how it, Richie. I'm sick and don't know what I'm doing or how I'm ruining my life, your life. That she forgives me, understands me and that she'll always be the only person who can. It's the sort of shit that piles up after awhile, you know? I don't want to fuck up your life too, Rich."
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Not fucking once.
Richie had not wanted Eddie to go back to New York but he expected it, Eddie had built a life there and oddly enough his boyfriend fit the New York lifestyle. He had made the offer to Eddie before they left the hospital, if Eddie wanted Richie's home back in LA was open if Eddie wished to recover there or if Eddie just wanted, needed an escape. It had been a huge shock to Richie as much as it had to Myra when Eddie made the sudden decision to leave. Myra has been a nuisance ever since. Raging from calling hours upon end, hundreds of emails sent daily along with constant texts. It was a different kind of nightmare.
Richie takes notice of Eddie's body language, the way his body tightens. He takes a step back to give that distance.
Eddie had been nothing but calm with this mad woman. He had understood her anger and her confussion, hell he accepted it and placed all the blame of their divorce on himself. Yet that wasn't enough for Myra, she was like a damn disease. Constantly contaminating their happiness with her hatred.
"You aren't sick, Eds. You've never been sick. You know that", he begins carefully. Eddie's health has always been a sensitive subject. He gives a frustrated shake of his head, aggrivated that Myra has planted more seeds of doubt in his boyfriend's mind. "That's fucking bullshit", he near shouts with a gesture of his hands. "You're not fucking up my life, Eddie. You could never fucking do that man, ever. You're the best damn thing in my shit mess of a life and you're always going to be. I fucking love you, Eds."
Woah. Wooooaaah. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
He's just going to stand there for a moment, wide eyed and a bit stunned with himself. He meant those words, Christ did he mean them. "I love you", he whispers again.
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It had just gone up from there and his life here with Richie even if things had also had their downs as well.
Myra, unfortunately, had been one of those downs. Again― Richie had been so understanding despite his up and down moods, working through his own shit and fighting through this divorce. His boyfriend had even blamed himself for what had happened between him and now ex-wife but honestly... it had been and would always be Eddie's fault. That is what scares him the most because he doesn't want to destroy what the two of them have built here because of his own fucking problems.
As Richie speaks, Eddie frowns slightly and lets his gaze drift to the floor. He's not wrong because Eddie had been working on his own self image destroyed from literally forty years of bullshit. It's with a soft look that he gazes up at Richie and opens his mouth as if he was going to speak but suddenly Eddie is left near breathless as Richie really lets it fucking drop―
"You love me―" He says not so much as a question but more of a statement. There is a quiet moment where Eddie just stares, mouth open and breathing in a stuttered sound. Suddenly, without warning, a blush blooms across his features and he takes a step toward Richie. For the first time in what felt like an entire week, Eddie smiles.
"I don't know when it started for me," he says and reaches for Richie's hand. "But I love you too, Rich."
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They were going to have their own issues and struggles, what couples don't? What was important was the fact that Richie wasn't going to place all the blame on Eddie, he wasn't going to toss him aside when Eddie needed him the most and he sure as fuck wasn't going to make Eddie feel like he wasn't loved.
Both Myra and Eddie's mother had torn him down in ways that weren't going to heal over night, if all but that didn't stop Richie from trying his damn best to build his boyfriend back up. Eddie is worth a whole lot more than the women in his life have allowed him to be and he deserves more, deserves fucking better. He wasn't going to stand back and allow Eddie to blame himself for his terrible marriage coming to an end, Eddie had nothing to blame himself for.
He had given every bit of himself.
They both have their own demons to battle, Richie still has his own struggles that weigh him down. One being the fact that it had taken him this long to accept his homosexuality, brutal and harsh years of denying who he truly was. He's only ever loved one, no one else has ever mattered or compared. That person was and will always be Eddie.
That's why he's letting these words slip from his lips. Words that can impact their whole relationship. He's chest grows tight at Eddie's silence and his stomach twists in painful knots that leaves him feeling a bit nauseated. Had he said too much? Did Eddie not love him in return? His boyfriend's flushed cheeks has him grinning like an idiot and Eddie's returned love had his heart skipping beats.
"I've always loved you, you little shit", he laughs before pulling Eddie's small form to his chest. "That's never going to fuck change."