richie "trashmouth" tozier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measuringdicks) wrote2020-09-07 02:32 am
measuringdicks) wrote2020-09-07 02:32 am
Entry tags:
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry inbox.
welcome to the trench chapter of interdimensional hostage bullshit anonymous! unfortunately no one can come to the phone right now because we’re being fucked over by the multiverse again, so leave a message after the beep. we’ll get back to you if we’re still here.
video | voice | text | action
gif from
no subject
[He shrugs, as if to finish the sentence with that alone. Things tend to happen to people like them, interdimensional refugees/kidnappees/hostages—it's barely, if ever, the other way around.]
You've been gardening? [It's sort of adorable that Richie assumes Eddie has actually been doing something instead of having breakdowns. To be fair, Richie's idea of dealing with a breakdown is to ignore it and do literally anything else besides dealing with it.
They do have to talk about October, at some point. They are absolutely going to have to talk about it today. But first, an update:]
Uh—well, I'm looking into applying for a job at the movie theater. I was going to months ago, but, y'know, shit happened. [A pause.] I could sneak you in once I get the job. If you want. I haven't seen a manager around the place for ages, they probably wouldn't mind.
no subject
(None of this was ever easy to keep up. The past two places Eddie had been in weren't any different either. Though in Reims they had been able to learn a curve at least a little. He stares down at their hands and absently thinks about how many times in his life he's held Richie's hand. More than he could count and since he was seven.)
Huh? What? No. (Eddie looks up at Richie with wide eyes.) I've been crying under the hydrangea. It's just peaceful and safe-feeling in here.
(At...least he's honest. He's putting it lightly but he also didn't want Richie to worry too much.)
Wow. Look at you. (Eddie grins a little and bumps his feet against Richie's under the table.) Getting a job.
(He's going for a teasing tone but mostly he just winds up sounding faintly proud of Richie. Even though Eddie has been a practiced medic/nurse for years now, he still winds up feeling like he's not working. It somehow felt very mature and cool of Richie to land a job.)
That's cool. (Two words but entirely sincere.) Do you get to see whatever movies you want as many times as you want? That'd be so fucking cool.
(He brightens a bit.)
Doesn't beat the drive-in buuuut that would be neat-o. (Eddie, ur 50s is showing.) We could see so many R-rated films. (That they could already see on their Fluids but it's ten times cooler to do things you're not supposed to in public. Everyone knows that.)
no subject
[This is nice. This is really nice. Richie idly brushes his thumb over one of the lines criss-crossing Eddie's palm, feeling a little steadier now that they're holding hands. In the back of his head he's distantly aware that this simple action is setting off even more fireworks inside him than usual, but then it does that already.]
Oh. Yeah, watering the plants with your tears works too, I hear. Scientists proved it and everything in 2008. [Just...trying to lighten the mood here, yeah.] Do you need a hose now or have you still got more plants to water that way? [Hidden underneath the humor: are you okay?
He ducks his head when he hears the pride in Eddie's voice, cheeks tinging faintly pink.]
I mean, I've got an extra mouth to feed and all, [nodding towards Venkman, who's playing with Gucci,] so I figured I'd get off my ass and pick something up. And it's not like there's a newspaper in town to throw at people's doorsteps, so, movie theater it is. [He rests his cheek against his free hand.] Yeah! And they're paying me to do it, too, all I gotta do is show people to their seats, probably do some clean-up too. Can't be that bad.
[He says, having forgotten about the time he dumped an entire soda on Henry Bowers' head in the Aladdin.]
Yeah, the drive-in's great, but there's nothing like a movie theater if you really want an immersive experience. [Hey, Richie, your 80s is showing.] You wouldn't have to pay for it and I wouldn't have to look older either just to get in. We can just hang out in the back row and watch Jason Voorhees take someone's head off.
no subject
(Cause really how funny would it be to walk around in those shirts?
Some small part of Eddie didn't want Richie to leave. Life would be better if they just stayed in the greenhouse and this was it. Them. Holding hands. Some flowers. It was probably the first time that Eddie didn't feel like they were under some massive microscope. His mouth trembles into a full smile and he laughs lowly.)
I think...I think I'll probably have to start using the hose again. (I'm okay now. Now that Richie was here and they were talking without some crushing sense of anxiety in the way.) I can't break my tear ducts. I'm only 15. I have so many mental breakdowns to look forward to.
(He looks over towards their pets, grinning, and he realizes now, a month later, that Venkman had definitely been protective of Richie. He was gonna get that thing so much peanut butter.)
How responsible. (He looks back at Richie and snorts.) Dude. We were awful at the movies.
(Because he sure did not forget that. He also distinctly remembers kicking the first drink by accident while he had been cowering into Richie. Man. Everything was way simpler then.)
None of my jobs have cool perks except like hooking you up with prescription drugs or a bunch of free flowers.
(Eddie glances around said garden. After a few seconds he bends over to snap off one of the daisies and sits back up and proceeds to hold it out to Richie. Clearly thrilling as Jason Voorhees being beheaded. But there was a mild shyness as he does this, his eyes on the flower instead.)
So. (He clears his throat and forces himself to look back up at Richie.) I know I said we didn't have to. But we probably should...talk about October. And the whole...kissing thing. If that's okay with you. I don't really want the only time we talked about that to be because of some weird blood purging month, y'know?
tw forced outing, internalized homophobia
Then the light comes on, and he snaps his fingers.] Oh, shit, that's right! We dumped soda all over Bowers and his goons! Fuck, it's been a while since I thought about that. [Long enough that it had started to fade into the mists of memory. He should probably be more worried about it than he is, but that happens in time, doesn't it? You forget things that used to be so sharp in your mind's eye.] Yeah, I guess we were shitty, but we weren't so bad, at least we came to watch a movie and not make out in the back row.
[So awful, trying to watch the best scenes and meanwhile he could hear the sounds of two people playing tonsil hockey behind him. Speaking of tonsil hockey...
Yeah. October. Oh, boy. He takes the flower from Eddie, tucks it away in his front pocket so it's peeking out.]
I think I was the one who asked if we should, so. [He hunches in on himself, a little. He still doesn't want to talk about it, but what Richie wants, Richie doesn't always get. And he knows they'll have to talk about it.] Yeah. Yeah, we should, 'cause last time was...
[Last time Eddie was possessed and Richie was still reeling, so.]
'M'sorry I flipped out like that. And didn't talk for a while. [If it helps, Richie was a miserable wreck all that time spent not talking to Eddie.] I just, it just—
[He thinks, do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you, do you know what I'd do for you, do you know how much I love you? And there's a version of Richie who had all of that, who got to kiss Eddie, and it hurts that he—this version, who has been away from home so long, too long—is still too scared to even say the words. I love you.]
D'you know a guy named Caleb? He was the first person I ever came out to, but it wasn't—I didn't want to. [He breathes out.] I had to, because he accidentally saw Bowers chasing me out of the arcade for looking at his cousin, and he saw It trying to kill me. I didn't want to tell anyone, even him, and he was my friend. And he had a boyfriend. I couldn't tell him unless Paul fucking Bunyan was trying to split us in half. But you...
[He huffs out a breath.]
I couldn't bear it. You not knowing. Or having to find out about—about me 'cause of this town's bullshit. If you were going to know I wanted it to be because I told you. [He pauses.] I...did tell you, right? Those other times I don't remember. [sadly:] I wish you told me before. It doesn't excuse me yelling at you like that, 'cause that was just shitty of me, but—I wish you told me.
Re: tw forced outing, internalized homophobia
I mean that could always change.
(Eddie you should probably focus on actually discussing this Kissing Trauma business before casually flirting. Oh, to be fifteen and hormonally stupid as fuck sometimes. Though the hand-holding might have something to do with that extra slice of bravery pie he was serving up.
That brief bravado dies down pretty fast. He's careful then. Face arranges into a neutral expression and he tries hard to focus on Richie's glasses instead of his actual eyes. He knew he had to play this conversation right. He was the one who had kept the secrets. And there were others to keep still. How honest did Richie really want him to be? How honest was too honest?
At the mention of another guy's name, Eddie's brain immediately jumps to all the worst conclusions. He wants to break away from Richie and fall into a dead sprint towards the door and run away from this conversation. His neutral expression cracks and a look of genuine anxiety crawls over him. He wasn't ready for this conversation at all. He wasn't ready for--
Oh. Eddie loosens his grip on Richie's hand slowly, a thin breath crawling out of him. ...Breathe. Once the panic peeled away from his mind, he began to catch up on the rest of what Richie was saying. The fear is slowly replaced with a thoughtful look, and this was exactly why October had been hard.)
Okay I'm - gonna explain a lot of stuff all at once. I know I do that all the time but just. You asked a question that has four years worth of answers and several different Richies of answers, okay?
(He leans forward, and he tries to remember all the way back. This time he's looking at Richie's chest, but mostly because he was zoning out on trying to scratch back to age eleven.)
You were the first person I ever came out to period. When I was like twelve. We were on the space ship still and I mean I didn't really...come out come out. I made a really vague statement but...You knew what I was saying and you didn't tell me you were the same. But you made it obvious you didn't hate me for it either. And you never told me that first time. (Which he hasn't really thought about until now. And that kind of makes him sad too and he realizes a bit of what Richie might have felt back in October.) Then you left the first time and it was tough. You were gone for a long time. When you came back you were...weird. I didn't tell you anything that time because you were kind of an asshole to me about...About...
(He glances around them and snorts.)
Flowers? That's when I was getting real into flowers and gardening because it was my job to be. And you were weird about touching me and kind of were...Just different and I was paranoid it was 'cause you found out and suddenly didn't like me for it or something. I didn't know how to act around you? Then you vanished again. Uhh..When you came back after that you told me but not really because you wanted to. I won't lie. It was super messy and you were really upset because this town fucked you up about it.
(Eddie doesn't think Richie intended to tell him that day.)
And the thing is I can't even blame you. Even after all this time...It still makes me freak the fuck out and feel panicky. It just scares me. Even though I've gotten way better about it I just wish I wasn't that way at all. I don't even wish I was into girls either. I just fucking hate thinking about -- that stuff. But then at the same time, the only time I ever feel brave is because of - (You. Eddie falters. He stops, looking at Richie right in the eye, and then something occurs to him.)
Wait, did you ever tell the version of me you knew from your world? Did you guys ever talk about it?
tw internalized homophobia
[False, Eddie can catch his attention more than a movie can. Even a comedy he adores like Ghostbusters or Gremlins.
Okay. So—it's happened once before, on Richie's side, and a lot of times on Eddie's side. Richie wonders then how he might feel, if Eddie suddenly disappeared and then came back with no memory, acting strangely and in a hostile way. He'd—well, he'd assume pretty much the same thing Eddie did, actually: that maybe he'd been found out and now he'd lose his best friend for it. And then this last bit, about Richie not even intending to tell Eddie the last time he'd come out.
He huffs out a tired breath.]
Yeah. Yeah, I didn't—I think you're the first person I came out to properly? Here and back on superhero world, I never got to just say it. People either found out because of some stupid memory-sharing bullshit or just because I was too obvious. [Yeah, he can see why this past version of himself would be really upset. Richie has been there, been in the position where he can't do anything but watch in horror, as his dirty little secret gets dragged out into the light. He hunches in on himself, looks down at Eddie's hand again, and squeezes it, as if trying to draw a bit of comfort from Eddie's nearness. It works, and he relaxes.]
You are brave. [said quietly.] I can't imagine an Eddie Kaspbrak who's not brave. It's just that, yeah, you're right, it's fucking scary, especially if the sentient town or demon clown or what-the-fuck-ever has a history of digging your shit up and shoving it in your face.
[There's a silence. Then Richie shakes his head.]
No, never. God, never. [Because then Richie had been too terrified of scaring him off, of ruining their friendship, and if there's anything that Richie does not think he'll be able to handle, it's losing Eddie because he couldn't keep a fucking lid on his feelings.] It was the eighties, we lived in Derry, Bowers was on our asses every day—I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell him, you, him. I couldn't. I was scared shitless about telling anyone.
[Especially about telling Eddie, because he had worried his other secret would come out too: the initials on the kissing bridge, R+E carved forever into the wood, permanent and almost defiant.]