ximilialog | wish we could turn back time to the good old days

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wish we could turn back time to the good old days

CHARACTERS: a couple of middle-aged trash can fires (Richie Tozier

longoverdue and Eddie Kaspbrak

respirations)
LOCATION: Gyeongje, the Palace
DATE: during the monster attack
CONTENT: two Losers find each other while avoiding monsters.
WARNINGS: monster attacks and swearing. references to internalized homophobia, abuse, murder (especially murder of children) and cannibal serial killer eldritch clown. blanket Stephen King warning (thanks, Uncle Stevie). will update when necessary.

[Richie does not panic when he loses sight of Eddie, during the attacks.

Mostly, he’s too busy panicking about everything else, although the worry for Eddie’s continued well-being and safety is lurking around the edges of his mind, just waiting for him to slow down. The monsters are a much more immediate concern, and Richie keeps finding and losing track of other “noble saviors,” trying to avoid getting himself murdered and run from the guilt of letting other people get sliced up before he yanks them to safety. It’s—Damn it, it’s fucked up, he knows that, it’s a shitty thing to do when they’re all trying to survive this together, but he decided when he took this deal that he would do whatever it took to get Eddie back.

Yeah, he knows, it’s fucked up. Yeah, he knows, it probably makes him a really shitty person. Yes, he is trying not to think too hard about it.

He turns the corner, and blinks, eyes going wide.]

Oh thank fucking god. [A beat.] Holy shit, is that blood?

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( Much like Richie— Eddie does not panic whenever he turns a corner and suddenly realizes that Richie isn't there. Well, in truth, he tries and it goes over well until Eddie finds himself face to face with one of the creatures tearing through the palace.

It's only later after the creature is dead and Eddie has managed to stumble onto his feet that the panic flares alive. He considers the earpiece but ultimately opts for re-tracing his steps, clutching the dagger he bought in town earlier and once again finding himself having to ignore how blood just feels caked on his hands.

He'd let himself get lost in his thoughts but suddenly he finds himself nearly colliding with someone (or possibly something) as he turns a corner, locking up and noticeably jumping before he realizes just who is standing in front of him. )

Rich— where did you go, I thought something happened and you— ( He swallows hard, eyes wide and ultimately looks himself over. ) Yeah, uh— it's not mine though. I ran into one of those things.

Wait, you fought a monster? Oh, shit, I take back what I said about us not being badasses, where the fuck did you pick it up? [The joke doesn't quite land, because he steps forward, unmindful of the blood, to take Eddie's hands and look them over, look him over, as if trying to see if there's any open wounds that Eddie just didn't notice. Nothing catches his eye, but he doesn't quite relax, not yet.

He also doesn't let go of Eddie's hands. Now there's blood all over Richie's hands, but hey, metaphorically speaking, there already was blood on his hands, so.]

You okay? It didn't try to cut—I mean, shit, it probably did, fuckers have been trying to slice me to fucking ribbons, but it didn't land a hit, right?

All that time spent watching you play Street Fighter? Fuck if I know—

( Eddie's rambling, he's sure but it gets swallowed up rather quickly in a deep breath as Richie steps forward and takes his hands. He's just looking them over but ultimately it helps calm him down to a certain degree though he wouldn't quite say that he's relaxed just yet.

Still, despite his brain screaming at him about the blood now on Richie's hands, Eddie lets his hands be held as they stand there together. )

Yeah, yeah— I'm fine. I don't know how I managed getting out of that without it fucking me up somehow but I'm okay. Just, um— I think it tried talking to me though I might just be losing my goddamn mind.

Not fair, you end up throwing spears and stabbing people like an action hero outta watching me play? I just got calluses out of the whole mess.

[And a top score, but at forty that's not quite as important as it was at thirteen. He stands there with Eddie for a moment longer than he usually would, then drops one hand, the other gently tugging Eddie in the direction of—somewhere that's safer, hopefully. Marginally safer, anyway.]

Maybe, maybe not. For what it's worth, shit's so fucking weird I wouldn't be surprised if they could talk. [So no, he doesn't think Eddie's losing his mind. A pause.] What did you hear?

Yeah, well, you also gave me that pep talk too after I almost let some freakish spider thing eat your face and you were in trouble before so— ( A shrug but its true. He wouldn't let anything happen to his friends, he could do that much at least. ) Also I just— you know I just fucking panic sometimes.

( Again there isn't any compliant from Eddie as Richie tugs him along. If anything, Eddie just grips at his hand and makes sure that there isn't a chance of them getting separated again. )

Oh, uh— I'm pretty sure I heard 'this is all their fault.' as it was dying. I think because I'm also pretty sure I was having a panic attack so who the fuck really knows.

[There's a pause. Richie shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand tightly.] Listen, I know it's hard to believe when you're surrounded by people like Bill and all these fuckin' heroic assholes, but—panicking in the middle of horror movie bullshit like this is fine. Is normal. What matters is, you came down with the rest of us. [Another squeeze.] You're a lot stronger than you know.

[And I love you for that. I love you for everything you are.

But he doesn't say that, just keeps on going until he finds an alcove they can briefly cram into, so they won't be noticed by whoever decides to run past.]

Could be, I guess. But I don't think so. [He huffs out a breath.] Maybe it was like, some kinda dying message it really wanted you to hear. Like a clue in a murder mystery where the victim gets off one final note in their own blood.

Yeah, uh— thanks, Rich, really. I'm glad you're here with me, man.

( And look what that got me.

It's a thought that passes through him but one that Eddie refuses to say, to speak on and instead lets the squeeze of Richie's hand in his own keep him tethered into the here and now instead of the darker thoughts wanting to bubble up. Although he's focused mainly (almost solely) on where there hands are connected, Eddie does take in little pieces around them— something to help him figure out his place on the floorplan he has mapped out in his head.

He only looks up once Richie has shuffled them into an alcove. There's enough space for the two of them but Eddie still presses in against Rich's side and keeps a grounding hold on his friend's hand. )

So then when it said thier— they must mean the rulers here, yeah? I mean it's the only thing that makes sense given everything we've seen and heard so far.

Yeah, well. [I love you. He lets his forehead touch against Eddie's, the furthest he's willing to go.] Honestly, if I had to pick a Kaspbrak to be stuck with, I'd pick you. 'M glad you're here too, Eds.

[And not just because Eddie's better than Richie is at getting where he wants to go. No, it all has to do with the way his heart beats faster at their close proximity, the warmth of Eddie's hand in his.]

I mean, unless this monster was holding a really intense grudge against somebody who fucked their wife and took their house, yeah. Lord and Lady whatstheirnames make the most sense. But if the monsters were so pissed at them, why wait until now to make their move?

( Maybe— just maybe, he's reading too much into things given just the general mood in this current moment. Probably, most likely because reading the room was not on Eddie Kaspbrak's general list of skills on an emotional level. In business, sure but in his personal life? Absolutely not. Still he's not a fucking idiot (most of the time) and perhaps that's why he isn't afraid to lift his free hand and press it against Rich's face as they stand with their foreheads pressed together.

It's intimate, no doubt and Eddie is sure that even Richie can feel how hard his heart is beating in his chest but he keeps close like this. It's nice, calming and as he glances at his hand, minus his wedding band and notices that it just feels right—

Sort of like flipping on a light switch almost. )

Because we're here? ( He says finally, brows pinched together but finally glancing up to Richie's face again. ) You said it yourself that we're out of our league surrounded by all these people with magic and actual fucking superheroes. The rulers here called us their saviors but what if the monsters want to also make use of all those powers? Whoever had everyone's help could easily get the upper hand in all this.

[Every beat of his traitorous heart screams, I love you I love you I love you. But Richie doesn't let it out past his lips. Twenty-seven years of keeping it quiet means he doesn't know how to say it out loud in this moment, in this time, when the stars have aligned and no one is around to see them. He bites it back, instead, out of old habit. Doesn't dare, can't dare, to hope that this might mean something.

But he leans a little against Eddie's hand.]

...so it's a smash-and-grab, but they're grabbing people? [He huffs out a breath, frowns. Shakes his head a little.] I don't know if I buy that. One of 'em almost gutted one of us, uh, orbers or whatever we're calling ourselves. He's fine now, but there was—it looked pretty bad.

But if they're taking the time to say those last words before they die...what the fuck does that mean, huh?

( He swallows, hard and likely visible given just how close they are but Eddie doesn't make a motion to move. If anything seeing Richie lean into his hand like that just roots him more firmly in place and has him squeezing the other man's hand once again as if making sure this was real and just not the fever dream of a man at the end of his life as he bled out. )

But they're not killing any of us, Richie. Isn't that a little fucking weird? Maybe we've all got really, really lucky but something doesn't feel right about any of this. ( He frowns as he says this and seemingly searches Richie's eyes for something— an answer or some comfort? Who really knows. ) Maybe they're testing us then? Getting a feel on what people are capable of doing?

( Again, he swallows and chews on the inside of his cheek. ) I don't know. Makes me wish Ben or Mike were here. They were always good at seeing the bigger picture.

[There are gears turning behind Richie’s eyes, dots connecting in his head, forming a picture he doesn’t like. Eddie isn’t wrong, is the thing—these monsters could kill them, it’s not as if they lack the capability. But he hasn’t seen a single dead body belonging to someone from the station.]

You don’t know, maybe we’re all just really fucking lucky. [But he doesn’t sound like he believes it either. After a moment, he sighs, stroking his thumb over the side of Eddie’s.] No, you’re not wrong, that makes sense. Maybe they’re testing us in the absolute most fucked up way possible.

It’s just—there’s a shitton of things I’m stuck on because they aren’t adding up. Why the cover-up? Why this attack? And what the fuck is on the upper levels that they’re all apparently gunning for there?

[A tired sigh.]

Yeah, if you asked me to pick a Loser to solve a mystery like this, I’d have picked Ben and Mike too. Maybe even Bill—remember that summer? It jumped out of a fucking projector screen and he still wanted to go fight it on its home territory. [He pauses, chuckles, eyes watering just a little.] Jesus. Or Stan. Can you imagine him here and now with just, like, the pissiest face?

( Eddie knows he's reaching for straws but he simply can't stand not having something to build a foundation of his thoughts on. Fuck— maybe they are all really lucky and he's looking for threads of connection that just doesn't exist. He's desperate to understand something— anything but it feels like its all slipping through his fingers. )

I don't— I don't know. ( He can't help squeezing his eyes shut, breath shaky as he feels that familiar panic building up in his chest and threatening to become overwhelming as his hands shake. ) None of this makes any fucking sense, you know?

( Needless to say, Eddie is equally fucking tired and it shows but he tries to keep himself calm in the moment as his thumb gently strokes along Rich's cheekbone. The mention of their friends (of Stan) gets him to force a watery sound out of his throat. )

He'd be so fucking pissed off. He'd have just marched around demanding answers, you know? Or even if Bev was here then she'd probably just beat it out of them. God— I miss them, Rich.

[Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand then, but only to put both his hands on the sides of Eddie’s face. There’s a weird moment of double-vision, where his memory overlays thirteen-year-old Eddie in Neibolt looking up at him (look at me don’t look at the clown don’t look at your arm look at me I’m here I won’t leave you), then he blinks and it’s just Eddie at forty, about to panic.]

Hey. [Soft, gentle. He never did lose the trick of this.] Hey, c’mon, open your eyes, look at me. Yeah, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, but what does is—we’re here. We’re the ones who gotta make sense of this whole thing, and we’re getting there, yeah? Solving a mystery, psh, it can’t be any harder than going after an eldritch monster clown. [softly:] And you’re smart. I didn’t see the testing idea, you did. We just need more pieces than we have.

[And they have a vanishingly tiny amount of pieces.

He laughs a little, at the mention of Bev, and drops his hands to hold on to Eddie’s shoulders. He does not let go of him for longer than a couple of seconds.]

She would. If Bev were here she’d beat the shit out of these monster assholes. [He sniffs a little.] I miss ‘em too. Just isn’t the same without them.

[A pause.]

But for what it’s worth—if I had to pick just one Loser to be stuck with, I’d pick you.

( Much like his friend there is a moment where Eddie is taken back in time and he's staring at a panicked thirteen-year-old Richie begging him to look at him. It brings back that pang of fear, he's afraid that he was going to glance out the corner of his eye and that fucking clown would be there but its not—

They're fine, they're safe.

Despite the panic in his veins screaming at him otherwise, Eddie manages to get his eyes open and look up to Richie with wide-eyes. Again, he finds himself taken back to the past as Richie talks— he's almost lost in memories that he finds slipping back to the forefront of his mind but the warmth of Richie's hands on his face keeps him tethered to the now. )

Ye—yeah, you're right. We can figure this out, we can do this if we stick together— ( He murmurs tiredly, breathing in. ) Thanks, Rich.

( He says it with a soft, warm smile as he takes his free hand to grasp one of Richie's own and bring it back up to his face. Perhaps its the panic still lingering or maybe he's just reading things absolutely wrong but he's fucking analyzes risk for a living; he's analyzing this, okay? And so very carefully with a tilt of his head, Eddie brushes his lips against the palm of Richie's hand where his scar had once been. )

I'd choose you too, Rich. You're stuck with me.

Edited 2021-07-25 11:35 (UTC)

[Is this happening. Is this actually fucking happening. There's a lot of ways Richie can interpret Eddie holding him like this, but kissing his palm is. Uh. That's not something Richie can easily explain away, even as determined as he is, and he goes completely still and quiet, eyes widening behind his glasses. For once, he hasn't got the words.

Then:]

Eds—please. Tell me I'm not kidding myself here. [Soft, almost scared.] You're—you have to tell me if I'm reading this wrong, because I'd choose you, I'd always choose you, but it's—it's been a long fucking time, I'm rusty at reading this kinda thing.

[Relationships, he means. One-night stands he's great at, but this is Eddie. Kissing him on the lips, like, fully on the lips, is both setting off giddy butterflies and fireworks in Richie's stomach and constricting his lungs until he can barely breathe from the fear. And there is so much fear here, twenty-seven years' worth of it.

But he returns the kiss, taking Eddie's bloody hand and kissing his palm, where the scar had been. Then he kisses his knuckles, the way he's seen people do on TV. Then he looks up.] Eddie, [he says very softly,] am I reading this wrong?

[Giving him an out.]

( There's a part of Eddie that is almost childishly proud that he's rendered Trashmouth Tozier speechless yet its near buried under the waves of worry that boil up as he wonders if he did read things wrong. It causes him to swallow awkwardly, lips still pressed against the skin of Richie's palm and wondering if he's just ruined the one thing here that matters to him more than anything else.

He's scared, he realizes and it knots in his gut the longer Richie is silent. So much so that Eddie opens his mouth to say something (anything) that might laugh off his mistake. Because he can't lose Richie, he can't lose him again—

But before he has a chance to start rambling off at the mouth, vomiting nonsense— Rich starts instead. It's almost hard to hear his friend over the sound of blood pounding in his ears, heart racing to the point that Eddie's worried he might have an actual condition but then Rich is kissing his hand not unlike how he had done just a moment ago. It's done so softly, gently— so unlike either of them but Eddie can feel a flush of color burn across his face like he's sixteen again. )

Richie— ( For a moment, he's quiet and just staring at wide eyes where Rich had kisses his skin before managing up the actual brain power to shake his head. It's hard to forget how close they already are to one another and its easy enough to reach up, draw Richie back in close and let their foreheads press together. ) If you're reading it wrong then I'm definitely reading this wrong. Those glasses of yours just aren't for show, yeah?

( The laugh is breathless but Eddie can't help smiling, squeezing the hand he holds and tilting his head just enough that he's sure their lips brush but enough that if this has been read wrong (and God would he have gotten it wrong) they can still brush it off. ) You're not reading this wrong, Rich. I promise.

Yeah, it turns out when you get older your eyesight gets so much worse. And I already had shitty eyes, so.

[But he leans in then, cupping Eddie’s cheek and brushing a thumb over his faded scar. Presses the briefest, gentlest kiss to his lips, because Richie is a romantic who treats those he loves with a reverence he shows...uh, basically nothing else.

He lets this moment last, basking in the glow of it, the sweet giddiness of it. His heart is beating so goddamn fast, his lips tingling, his thoughts zipping a mile an hour and all screeching we kissed Eddie!!!! Then:]

...I dunno how long we can stay in here, but we really gotta get take this somewhere that’s not gonna be invaded by monsters or guards. I would be so fucking pissed if we kissed again and almost got fucking skewered.

( He'd laugh but as it turns out, its surprisingly hard to laugh (or even worry about laughing) when you're all but melting into a kiss that you're sure you've thought about more than a handful of times. Again its some oddly sweet and gentle thing that is so unlike either of them but so needed in the moment that he can't help the sigh that escapes Eddie once they part.

He's sure (absolutely positive even) that he is all blush and no man but is oddly okay with that because, yeah— it's Richie. He's sort of lost in the moment, head swimming but manages to tune in as Richie speaks and is suddenly very, very aware of their surroundings. )

Yeah, holy shit— yeah. Not that great of a way to go, take it from me. ( He says with a breathless sound because, yeah— where's the fun if you can't joke about your own end, right? ) Come on, lets head back the way we came.

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wish we could turn back time to the good old days

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