Don't think there's a god. Well, at least not outside of the turtle anyway.
(Which Eddie was almost positive he'd seen on his way out of death. Or felt the warmth of- something. He hadn't felt alone, but in a nice way.)
Yeah, it does. (Eddie smiles with some measure of fondness.) I bet you were amazing at it too. I never got the chance to hear any of it.
(Which...sucked. As a kid Eddie always figured he'd be the president of all official Richie Tozier fanclubs. It was hard for him to imagine not supporting him.)
Oh trust me. I'm not looking to get drunk again just yet. I'm the one that brought a bottle of scotch to the library. Or was it whiskey...Shit, I don't remember. Things are already feeling fuzzy again.
(Eddie says this with a soft snort, rolling his eyes at himself. He was rarely sober, but his means of achieving that were far more subtle. He rests his chin into his palm, looking at Richie.)
Cutie? (Eddie makes an entire display of looking wide eyed and around the table.) Is someone joining us?
[A turtle is news to Richie, but he knew a lot of cultures revered them so it's not surprising in that sense just the one that involved Eddie believing in some revered and honorable reptile.]
You didn't miss much. Don't worry.
[Talking about what a sell-out he was, and how he became exactly what he hated just to get fit in wasn't something he wanted to get into. That was just the sort of talk that would keep them depressed.]
You think they're always gonna feel like this? Frayed around the edges?
[The memories, is what he means. They're integral to who they were, some real foundation work for them and he had little dips and cracks in his own. Enough for it to be concerning now that Eddie's bringing it up again.]
Stop trying to bait me into mom jokes. I'm saving my last two for important occasions. If you just want me to say you're cute again - there, just did.
...The turtle? Maturin? (Eddie stares a bit hopelessly at Richie.) How the fuck do you not know? You literally-. It's like the only reason we could even defeat It. Maturin puked up our universe? None of this ringing a bell?
(Why was everything so different. Eddie rubs at his temple, sighing to himself.)
I'd like to figure that out for myself, thanks. (It's a gentle refusal of whatever mediocrity Richie thought he had going for him. Eddie had always seen Richie with stars in his eyes though.
It's a good question, and one Eddie had been wondering himself. He doesn't need the clarification because there was only really one thing Richie could be referring to. Eddie couldn't even really remember all of the Losers' names anymore and it hadn't been that long since they'd left. He wondered if it was worse because he was dead.)
I don't know. (Might as well be honest. He tips his head to look at Richie, looking a bit caged and nervous.)
I think so. I'm trying to remember everyone's names and I can't, really. I think there was a woman with us, but I don't remember. I remember two, maybe? When I was dying Bill was...(He frowns down at the table.) He was more worried about the second woman.
(Eddie swallows thickly, before shaking his head.)
Aubra? Audrey? Audra? Something like that, maybe. His wife. (Eddie was pretty positive that was right.
The confusion fades into amusement, and he grins at Richie.)
I'm sure you'll find new material in a city that glorifies schlong on the regular.
(He pats Richie's thigh just under the table, but in a friendly sort of way, slapping the thigh more than patting it. Mostly because Eddie was difficult. More difficult than anyone ever realized. Except maybe Richie.)
Do I get points for saying yes even though I don't have a damn clue what you're talking about?
[It was starting to add insult to injury, how much Eddie knew and how little it contrasted with what he had been through. Richie kept it to himself, but it was starting to feel like he was the one out of time and not Eddie.]
Bev? Two- wait, there weren't- Bill didn't even really mention Audra except for at The Jade.
[From what Richie could tell she seemed like a good woman, but there was strain like with any romance. Not that he had a lot of experience in that department.]
Maybe. In a place like this, the sky's the limit.
[The gentle pat to his thigh makes him jump, not so much out of shock but out of tentative arousal. Eddie's hands, pinching, prodding always got that sort of response. One that he'd gently nudge into wrestling with him or pushing him underwater so he could save. There wasn't much saving face here.]
(Eddie wilts a little, but not because of Richie. Or well, maybe, but not because of Riche-Richie. Rather not understanding why so much was different.)
She like came all the way to Derry for him. (Definitely not a strained relationship. Or if it was, it was because Bill Denbrough had grown into a real asshole who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Eddie's view of his old best friend had changed a significant amount, but he doesn't know how to talk about that either.)
I don't know why nothing's the same with us. It's...weird. I know it's you? It just...It's like all the details are off.
(Which was a bit of a headache.) I'd say we should write it down, but I'm starting to forget some stuff again and part of me sort of wants to.
Eddie laughs lowly when Richie jumps, and he just gives him a rather coy look, smirking.)
Wow. Yeah, I only heard about her here and there over dinner. Then the tone shifted, and I mean - once that happened no one was really discussing home triumphs.
[Not that he had anyway, Richie was unmarried and unenthusiastic about the spousal conversation, to begin with. He had his career and that was it and comedy could be one bitch of a mistress. Stand-up was a great source of income but it was boring and it smothered his creativity and his will to even keep going.]
Nothing's a strong word. I mean, all the differences seem to be mine, right? Maybe I'm the one that's different.
[Anything to take the load off of Eddie, even just a little. He already had plenty to reckon with.] I'm so not writing any of this shit down. It's all circumstantial. I know who I'm talking to.
[Richie smiles and slaps the menus in front of them down after ordering. Two sandwiches and a single plate of extra fries they could fight over, just like old times.
His attempt to save face in front of the waitress was weak at best, he's just glad he narrowly missed knocking his knee into the bottom of the table in the midst of it all.]
Just like I know you're not sorry, you little shit.
It sounds like our side of the coin had a bit more time to catch up. We talked for a long time. We talked about why none of us had kids- stuff like that.
(Granted there had been the similar interruption of demon fortune cookies, but it had just been one thing on the list. Eddie hadn't been a fan discussing children either, and he had been bitchy and snappy that entire conversation. Eddie hadn't been thrilled about spousal discussion himself. He hated to bring up Myra in front of the others. It had felt like admitting defeat, and he hadn't been able to look at Richie while he did it.)
How do you figure they're yours? You don't feel different.
(Eddie's brow's furrowed, but gradually it smoothes out. He rests forward and cups his face with both of his hands.)
I think you're right, actually. (He had been pretty upset about the differences originally. Confused, conflicted, wondering what had happened that made everything so weird.) It's not like we're there anymore. And it's not like we can turn back time. There's only what's left in front of us.
(He wasn't even trying to be sentimental. It was just true. They were the only ones in the city, and Eddie had died. Even if they were thrown back into their world, there was nothing there for him anymore except the ground he'd rot on. He doesn't say as much to Richie, but it's there in the air.)
This is my only future now anyway. (Because it was. He looks at Richie, his gray eyes dark but certain.) So...Fuck it, right? I have you.
(Which is the only thing Eddie's ever really cared about to begin with. He lets Richie order, smiling against the edge of his hand. The smile only grows.)
I...am an innocent man, Richard. I've only got pure intentions.
[Kids. Jesus. Richie never even considered having a family, not after life in Derry. He didn't feel fit to be responsible for a tiny human being when he could barely take care of himself.]
You don't feel different either.
[It was appearances, a hardened man versus one a whole lot closer to what Richie would've pictured in his head. Life hadn't been kind to either of them so it's no small wonder why things had gone the way that they had. Sometimes Richie feels twice his age.]
Yeah, just me and you. Like old times.
[Except this time they didn't have haul ass to try and keep up with Bill's lady bike or fight any malevolent entities that wanted to rip them apart.] You're a bad liar is what you are. I know better. [Richie instigated his fair share of fights, and if he wasn't pinching Eddie's cheeks and calling him cute for the whole world to hear he was pinning him down and tickling his knees. Telling the rest of the losers about how Eddie stole sugar. Sweet little Eddie, who he knew was always quietly paying attention.]
(Eddie had just never liked the idea of kids. They were loud, sticky, prone to illness. He didn't have the patience or the interest. Plus, being from the 50s and being the way he was? He didn't think men like him could even have kids. It had never been a dream of his, and in many ways, he had been painfully relieved that he was possibly infertile and that Myra had never been able to take. Lord knows he would have hated himself so much more if she had ever gotten knocked up. A wife was a shackle, but children would have been an entire cage.
Eddie smiles back at Richie, his eyes brighter than before. He was relieved, and a part of him wanted to reach out to Richie and just cling to him. He was still feeling a little emotional about dying, maybe, but he didn't want to lose sight of Richie anytime soon.)
Except now we have bad joints.
(A little sad, but better them together than not at all.
He bats his eyes doefully at Richie, doing his very best impersonation of Bambi. Not that he had to try too hard. He had always had one of those faces.)
I've never lied a day in my life. (Offended by the very idea. Only he's grinning a moment later and gently poking Richie in the side just under the table.)
I'm a great liar. You just always know what to look for. (Eddie wasn't a good liar at all. Richie was completely right. Eddie showed too much of his heart at all times. But sometimes he liked to try. He had gotten decent about it with his mother at least, and that had always been the most important lie. His joking fades as he looks at Richie, his expression suddenly tight and serious.)
[Richie's head waivers on his neck, he might as well have scoliosis thanks to never growing into his body. He always felt like he should be smaller somehow, more compact, but the gangly days were long behind him and so was a lot of the puberty-based clumsiness.]
You wish. You lied more than I did. [Back in Derry especially, of course, Richie never faulted him for it. He would've done anything to get away from that helicopter mom too. Sonia took hovering parent to bold new levels and it was dark but he's glad that she died. Richie jabs Eddie with his elbow lightly on his way to get a drink, and it's purposeful enough that it gets his message out loud and clear.] Of course. I promise you we'll make this work. No matter what it takes.
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(Which Eddie was almost positive he'd seen on his way out of death. Or felt the warmth of- something. He hadn't felt alone, but in a nice way.)
Yeah, it does. (Eddie smiles with some measure of fondness.) I bet you were amazing at it too. I never got the chance to hear any of it.
(Which...sucked. As a kid Eddie always figured he'd be the president of all official Richie Tozier fanclubs. It was hard for him to imagine not supporting him.)
Oh trust me. I'm not looking to get drunk again just yet. I'm the one that brought a bottle of scotch to the library. Or was it whiskey...Shit, I don't remember. Things are already feeling fuzzy again.
(Eddie says this with a soft snort, rolling his eyes at himself. He was rarely sober, but his means of achieving that were far more subtle. He rests his chin into his palm, looking at Richie.)
Cutie? (Eddie makes an entire display of looking wide eyed and around the table.) Is someone joining us?
(He was absolutely being a little shit.)
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[A turtle is news to Richie, but he knew a lot of cultures revered them so it's not surprising in that sense just the one that involved Eddie believing in some revered and honorable reptile.]
You didn't miss much. Don't worry.
[Talking about what a sell-out he was, and how he became exactly what he hated just to get fit in wasn't something he wanted to get into. That was just the sort of talk that would keep them depressed.]
You think they're always gonna feel like this? Frayed around the edges?
[The memories, is what he means. They're integral to who they were, some real foundation work for them and he had little dips and cracks in his own. Enough for it to be concerning now that Eddie's bringing it up again.]
Stop trying to bait me into mom jokes. I'm saving my last two for important occasions. If you just want me to say you're cute again - there, just did.
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(Why was everything so different. Eddie rubs at his temple, sighing to himself.)
I'd like to figure that out for myself, thanks. (It's a gentle refusal of whatever mediocrity Richie thought he had going for him. Eddie had always seen Richie with stars in his eyes though.
It's a good question, and one Eddie had been wondering himself. He doesn't need the clarification because there was only really one thing Richie could be referring to. Eddie couldn't even really remember all of the Losers' names anymore and it hadn't been that long since they'd left. He wondered if it was worse because he was dead.)
I don't know. (Might as well be honest. He tips his head to look at Richie, looking a bit caged and nervous.)
I think so. I'm trying to remember everyone's names and I can't, really. I think there was a woman with us, but I don't remember. I remember two, maybe? When I was dying Bill was...(He frowns down at the table.) He was more worried about the second woman.
(Eddie swallows thickly, before shaking his head.)
Aubra? Audrey? Audra? Something like that, maybe. His wife. (Eddie was pretty positive that was right.
The confusion fades into amusement, and he grins at Richie.)
I'm sure you'll find new material in a city that glorifies schlong on the regular.
(He pats Richie's thigh just under the table, but in a friendly sort of way, slapping the thigh more than patting it. Mostly because Eddie was difficult. More difficult than anyone ever realized. Except maybe Richie.)
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[It was starting to add insult to injury, how much Eddie knew and how little it contrasted with what he had been through. Richie kept it to himself, but it was starting to feel like he was the one out of time and not Eddie.]
Bev? Two- wait, there weren't- Bill didn't even really mention Audra except for at The Jade.
[From what Richie could tell she seemed like a good woman, but there was strain like with any romance. Not that he had a lot of experience in that department.]
Maybe. In a place like this, the sky's the limit.
[The gentle pat to his thigh makes him jump, not so much out of shock but out of tentative arousal. Eddie's hands, pinching, prodding always got that sort of response. One that he'd gently nudge into wrestling with him or pushing him underwater so he could save. There wasn't much saving face here.]
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She like came all the way to Derry for him. (Definitely not a strained relationship. Or if it was, it was because Bill Denbrough had grown into a real asshole who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Eddie's view of his old best friend had changed a significant amount, but he doesn't know how to talk about that either.)
I don't know why nothing's the same with us. It's...weird. I know it's you? It just...It's like all the details are off.
(Which was a bit of a headache.) I'd say we should write it down, but I'm starting to forget some stuff again and part of me sort of wants to.
Eddie laughs lowly when Richie jumps, and he just gives him a rather coy look, smirking.)
Sorry.
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[Not that he had anyway, Richie was unmarried and unenthusiastic about the spousal conversation, to begin with. He had his career and that was it and comedy could be one bitch of a mistress. Stand-up was a great source of income but it was boring and it smothered his creativity and his will to even keep going.]
Nothing's a strong word. I mean, all the differences seem to be mine, right? Maybe I'm the one that's different.
[Anything to take the load off of Eddie, even just a little. He already had plenty to reckon with.] I'm so not writing any of this shit down. It's all circumstantial. I know who I'm talking to.
[Richie smiles and slaps the menus in front of them down after ordering. Two sandwiches and a single plate of extra fries they could fight over, just like old times.
His attempt to save face in front of the waitress was weak at best, he's just glad he narrowly missed knocking his knee into the bottom of the table in the midst of it all.]
Just like I know you're not sorry, you little shit.
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(Granted there had been the similar interruption of demon fortune cookies, but it had just been one thing on the list. Eddie hadn't been a fan discussing children either, and he had been bitchy and snappy that entire conversation. Eddie hadn't been thrilled about spousal discussion himself. He hated to bring up Myra in front of the others. It had felt like admitting defeat, and he hadn't been able to look at Richie while he did it.)
How do you figure they're yours? You don't feel different.
(Eddie's brow's furrowed, but gradually it smoothes out. He rests forward and cups his face with both of his hands.)
I think you're right, actually. (He had been pretty upset about the differences originally. Confused, conflicted, wondering what had happened that made everything so weird.) It's not like we're there anymore. And it's not like we can turn back time. There's only what's left in front of us.
(He wasn't even trying to be sentimental. It was just true. They were the only ones in the city, and Eddie had died. Even if they were thrown back into their world, there was nothing there for him anymore except the ground he'd rot on. He doesn't say as much to Richie, but it's there in the air.)
This is my only future now anyway. (Because it was. He looks at Richie, his gray eyes dark but certain.) So...Fuck it, right? I have you.
(Which is the only thing Eddie's ever really cared about to begin with. He lets Richie order, smiling against the edge of his hand. The smile only grows.)
I...am an innocent man, Richard. I've only got pure intentions.
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You don't feel different either.
[It was appearances, a hardened man versus one a whole lot closer to what Richie would've pictured in his head. Life hadn't been kind to either of them so it's no small wonder why things had gone the way that they had. Sometimes Richie feels twice his age.]
Yeah, just me and you. Like old times.
[Except this time they didn't have haul ass to try and keep up with Bill's lady bike or fight any malevolent entities that wanted to rip them apart.] You're a bad liar is what you are. I know better. [Richie instigated his fair share of fights, and if he wasn't pinching Eddie's cheeks and calling him cute for the whole world to hear he was pinning him down and tickling his knees. Telling the rest of the losers about how Eddie stole sugar. Sweet little Eddie, who he knew was always quietly paying attention.]
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Eddie smiles back at Richie, his eyes brighter than before. He was relieved, and a part of him wanted to reach out to Richie and just cling to him. He was still feeling a little emotional about dying, maybe, but he didn't want to lose sight of Richie anytime soon.)
Except now we have bad joints.
(A little sad, but better them together than not at all.
He bats his eyes doefully at Richie, doing his very best impersonation of Bambi. Not that he had to try too hard. He had always had one of those faces.)
I've never lied a day in my life. (Offended by the very idea. Only he's grinning a moment later and gently poking Richie in the side just under the table.)
I'm a great liar. You just always know what to look for. (Eddie wasn't a good liar at all. Richie was completely right. Eddie showed too much of his heart at all times. But sometimes he liked to try. He had gotten decent about it with his mother at least, and that had always been the most important lie. His joking fades as he looks at Richie, his expression suddenly tight and serious.)
We'll be okay, right? In this place?
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[Richie's head waivers on his neck, he might as well have scoliosis thanks to never growing into his body. He always felt like he should be smaller somehow, more compact, but the gangly days were long behind him and so was a lot of the puberty-based clumsiness.]
You wish. You lied more than I did. [Back in Derry especially, of course, Richie never faulted him for it. He would've done anything to get away from that helicopter mom too. Sonia took hovering parent to bold new levels and it was dark but he's glad that she died. Richie jabs Eddie with his elbow lightly on his way to get a drink, and it's purposeful enough that it gets his message out loud and clear.] Of course. I promise you we'll make this work. No matter what it takes.