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[measuringdicks]

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.

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[measuringdicks]

We oughta start a club. "Long-Term Dimensional Hoppers" club, how does that sound? [A breath.] Anyway, you're still Eddie. That hasn't changed. And I think...

[There's a moment where he seems to think something over again. Then:] So we live it up now. If we disappear tomorrow, that means we oughta cram in all the good times today—you have me now. And, shit, I don't ever want to leave you, but if I do, [which is likely given the past Richies,] or if you do, [which is less likely,] or if we both disappear—every moment here and now counts. And even if we forget when we wake up...at the risk of sounding like a total fucking sap, Eddie, your name is carved onto my heart, I'd never be able to forget you completely. And I don't think you'd be able to completely forget anything about your career as an interdimensional refugee either: the good and the bad. It's just too much to forget.

[If Richie had a more poetic soul, he'd say something like this: everyone Eddie has ever loved has left a mark on him in some way, and if he ever goes back, it won't be easy trying to rub it all out. Not for Sonia, not for It, not for anyone.]

...oh, Jesus, that's fucked up. How'd you manage not to lose your shit when you saw that at twelve? [Richie had nearly lost his nerve when he'd found a missing poster with his face on it at Neibolt, he has no idea how Eddie's even this okay. Time helped, probably. And the Xanax.]

Hey. I love you too. You've been my best friend since I thought cooties were a thing, you don't have to be sorry for being difficult. [It's too bad this is over the fluid because Richie would be holding Eddie's face between his hands by now.] I get it, okay? If you weren't difficult after living in hell town this long, I'd be way more worried.

[clussy]

I guess. Sometimes I don't know- I just feel...(Different. But then again, he was getting older. Everything felt different. Except for Richie. That had been his only real constant throughout the years. Maybe not Richie's prescence physically, but how he felt about Richie. He glances up, wishes they were talking in person.)

You think what? (He presses lightly, and then listens. But it hurts. It hurts to hear Richie talk about leaving again because it felt like a scab you could never heal because it always caught on something. He makes a small, choked sound, a hiccup of a breath, and then there are stifled noises. Crying he's trying his best to keep down.)

I don't want to lose you again. I can't. I can't do it- (Not again. Not after everything they have gone through this time.) How can you just - be so calm- about that? (He chokes the words out because the sobbing was coming in gasps now. He hasn't cried like this in...shit. Years maybe. But he was worn thin after everything and he really did need to get back on medication.)

I'm nothing without - without all of this. You, the people I've met along the way. You don't - I hate who I become without all of that. I'm not...strong when I have no one to be strong for. And I - I know my heart does always remember you, but I don't want to dread thinking about a future where I have to spend most of my life without you in it in my head or in my life. And I don't wanna just...Accept that. I don't wanna have to keep 'making the most' of what we have now. I'm sick of living on the edge of my seat constantly wondering if each minute is going to be the last minute I feel anything even remotely close to - to happiness.

(It was half Eddie's fault for thinking that way and he knew it too. He was the paranoid one, the one who couldn't help but constantly spiral into terrified thoughts of what-ifs. It sometimes felt like he had leaned out of terrifying medical what-ifs and leaned into terrified existential what-ifs. He's not sure what's worse.

He makes a few more noises, taking the Fluid away from his face for a few seconds so he could try and collect himself. He didn't have Richie's faith. At least not in himself. He fusses with a bottle and gets a tab out to slip into his mouth. There was some burning shame with having to resort to it, but he had a feeling maybe this was one of those times where it was okay. Maybe. The gesture alone is enough to get him to calm down even before the meds hit his system. He takes a hard, deep breath and holds the Fluid back against his ear.)

I did lose my shit. I've been losing my shit for years over it. I've had more breakdowns than I could count because of it. There's other shit in my future I saw too that I hated. I don't - I can't talk about it though. I don't want to.

(The shame he felt about his future-wife had never really gone away. He didn't really tell anyone about that though. He takes another deep breath, starting to slip from panic and grief to that absent blank feeling. Sometimes all he really wanted to do was just sleep. Maybe that was the point of the dream. He keeps his eyes shut, listening to Richie, picturing him next to him instead of on the phone, and he aches.)

Sometimes I think I love you too much. It fuckin- it just eats at me. I don't know. Yeah. I get it. (He shakes his head, taking his third breath. Measured. Slow.)

I should...I should probably go. I'm in a shitty...headspace or something. I don't know. I'm sorry for - (For what? Being emotional? He rubs at his face.) Sorry. Do you maybe-. Can you sleep over later or- or are you still uh- not ready for that?

(Because he had definitely picked up on Richie's reluctance for that whole thing. Which puzzled him some days and other days made him feel weirdly lonely and some days he understood perfectly when he thought about it from a boyfriend angle.)

It's fine if you're not.