( he wonders how long richie has known, but you can't ask people questions like that. it's invasive, personal, and richie doesn't owe him shit in the way of answers. but he wants to know all the same. he wants to know when he knew, how he knew, if he ever felt like there was something black and toxic inside of himself that would surely ruin everyone it came into contact with if eddie ever let it out–
there's a reason he can't ask more questions, and it's this. eddie doesn't know how much he'll say, if he starts talking. he's not ready for that. ) You're mine too. Best friend, I mean. Obviously. Don't tell the others, they'll be so mad.
[Growing up Richie had been immensely jealous of Eddie's relationship with Bill. It was rooted in the insecurity, the knowledge that Bill was more open and honest than he'd ever been but whenever Eddie chose to walk with Bill instead or ride on the back of his pegs instead he couldn't help but get a little envious. That was a problem for a younger Richie. Older Richie had needs that he was steadfast about repressing and that jealousy had only gotten worse over time.]
( it's all good chucks here, but it's also a very honest confession wrapped up in a thin layer of humour. more richie's style than eddie's, usually, but he can try it on for a moment. the truth of it is he'd always felt that they had this weird little orbit inside of the bigger system of the losers. not that he hadn't fallen in with bill a lot too, even more so when it was just the four of them, but at some point afternoons at the denbrough's became reading comics in the loft space with richie.
he's really close to figuring out what that might mean, but thankfully for eddie he just keeps talking right through any significant development potential. )
You'll start a civil war between if you start telling everyone you're my favourite.
[Another rib at his books but it's not like he really cares. After everything, his relationship with the other losers was strained severely. He still loves them, still cares, but everything after Neibolt was done at an arm's length. He felt alone. More than ever.
He wasn't a natural peacekeeper. Never had been. He didn't mind a little friction if it meant they knew who took priority.]
Can you say I'm your favorite one more time? I want to record that for posterity.
I don't think I'm going to be nice to you any more.
( another lie, but this one feels good. he's smiling around the words and it's probably audible. he doesn't mind so much. is it really such a bad thing, to tell richie plainly that he still thinks the world of him even after a few decades of missing time?
there's every chance the world won't end, if eddie doesn't wrap his love in barbed wire. and if it does, maybe it might be worth it. it just seems that maybe richie needs to hear these things more than eddie needs to not say them, that's all. )
Richard Wentworth Tozier, you are my favourite Loser and best friend, and if you ever use this against me I'll kill you. How about that?
[Eddie's niceties took on a different form when they were together just the two of them. He opened up, instead of bottling up and all those contents under-pressure broke free.
He's poking fun at his expense, but he winds down after finishing off his glass. Quiet on the line until he hears Ben get mentioned.
1.) He was plastered and Ben was an easy bashful target 2.) All of that the drinking, the shamelessness, and his elephant not in the room was an active distraction from his own issues. Eddie Kaspbrak, white-knuckling his glass of wine and the memories that revolved around him and him alone.]
You've always been my favorite.
[It's to the point when he says it. Matter-of-fact like he'd known it his entire life and wasn't just saying it to appeasing. Some things he couldn't play fast and loose with.]
Brazilian. Besides ol' Haystack only every had eyes for Bev.
( he's absolutely being facetious, he knows what richie said and he knows why he said it, there's just this complicated mess of something that surrounds that moment that eddie easily chalks up to the chaos of that entire dinner. reuniting a friends group like theirs was never going to be quiet or easy, and he's still shocked that no one got an itemised bill for that mess of an evening. )
Good. ( good?! good what, exactly? that he's richie's favourite, that it's always been eddie? that ben isn't about to ride off into a gay sunset with richie in his arms the moment they get back to derry? of course, eddie doesn't clarify. ) I still think most of your jokes aren't funny.
[The response is more sarcastic than anything else. Brazilian wasn't a type so much as a comment, washboard and a nice cut jaw looked good on anyone. Richie stupidly needed more.]
And I still think you're a neurotic headcase. Doesn't mean you're not my fave.
[God, it all sounds so much like conversations had in the clubhouse during rainstorms when the radio wouldn't work and it was too dark to read.]
Please don't talk to me about sports, it feels like the office break room.
( like he didn't completely bring it up.
god, this is nice. why did he ever think that space from richie was what he needed to process this whole place? he's already flopped on his bed and grinning into the receiver like a schoolgirl. it's a little ridiculous, actually. )
There's a lot of shit out there to be stressed about, Richie. I'm reasonably concerned, not neurotic.
[Richie knew that both he and Eddie went to the batting cages to watch the games once in a while. Maybe for completely different reasons, but still. It's impossible not to feel like that stupid teenager again with Eddie around, it all feels new. It all makes him feel stupid.
It's nostalgic and there's comfort in that and so Richie leans back in his chair and heaves an easy sigh. He finally lets himself relax a little bit.]
You've never been reasonably concerned in your life.
( he wonders if this is what it would have been like, if they'd been able to keep in touch. would eddie still have ended up in new york, richie in a faraway state. maybe they would have called while richie was on tour, just to check in. see how each other was doing.
it's a nice thought. nicer than it has any right to be. it's just a phone call. )
Do you know how many accidental deaths there are every year? How many people die from anaphylaxis? I do. I'm very reasonably concerned.
[Sarcastic as he was being they had a natural ebb and flow that hadn't left since childhood. Being a smartass, was their love language, and he could always count on Eddie to be quick on the uptake and continue the banter when no one else would.]
Well. Anaphylaxis isn't the choking hazard here and that's the good news.
The bad news is that you've always been unreasonable but now you've just weaponized it into a marketable skill set. I work at a fuckin' arcade. I don't think there are very many positions like what you're used to in this city.
( sounds like something a person without friends would say. )
I'm pretty sure this city is full of risks. Have you been outside? It's a literal nightmare. I would literally bet my hat there's people being sued right now wishing they had someone who's job it was to assess liabilities before it gets to that stage.
Yeah, but this whole society runs on someone getting fucked. Figuratively and literally.
[Richie lets the friends comment roll on by because it was true, at least in this situation. They did have friends but he couldn't remember the last true friendship he'd had before getting back to Derry.]
So maybe somewhere someone is looking for a guy like you. [He was. Right here. Right now.] But risk analysts just won't work here. No one cares. You could try to turn your stats into some beatnik poetry down at one of the clubs but I don't know if you'd make much money doing that.
I'm pretty sure shitty poetry is way closer to your wheelhouse than mine, dude. Did you write poetry when you were younger? Song lyrics?
( eddie actually kind of desperately wants to know the answer, but he suspects richie will definitely hold out on him if he sounds too interested. it's a monumental effort to sound completely chill about it.
he wishes he knew more about what they were all like, after leaving derry. specifically wishes he knew more about richie. did he go to college? work shitty jobs? write poetry? eddie just wants to know....everything. it's a little intense. )
Just because I'm a comedian doesn't mean I can write poetry. In fact, I'm pretty sure it guarantees that I can't.
Not unless you want a shitty hallmark card poem that ends in an insult.
[He absolutely did write poetry or tried his hand at it. He wasn't ever very good. Music was a love of his but only as a listener, he knew his strengths and he stuck to them.]
Only if I can hire you to follow me around and analyze all my risks. It'd be this place's first dead by conniption fit.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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( he wonders how long richie has known, but you can't ask people questions like that. it's invasive, personal, and richie doesn't owe him shit in the way of answers. but he wants to know all the same. he wants to know when he knew, how he knew, if he ever felt like there was something black and toxic inside of himself that would surely ruin everyone it came into contact with if eddie ever let it out–
there's a reason he can't ask more questions, and it's this. eddie doesn't know how much he'll say, if he starts talking. he's not ready for that. ) You're mine too. Best friend, I mean. Obviously. Don't tell the others, they'll be so mad.
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[Growing up Richie had been immensely jealous of Eddie's relationship with Bill. It was rooted in the insecurity, the knowledge that Bill was more open and honest than he'd ever been but whenever Eddie chose to walk with Bill instead or ride on the back of his pegs instead he couldn't help but get a little envious. That was a problem for a younger Richie. Older Richie had needs that he was steadfast about repressing and that jealousy had only gotten worse over time.]
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( it's all good chucks here, but it's also a very honest confession wrapped up in a thin layer of humour. more richie's style than eddie's, usually, but he can try it on for a moment. the truth of it is he'd always felt that they had this weird little orbit inside of the bigger system of the losers. not that he hadn't fallen in with bill a lot too, even more so when it was just the four of them, but at some point afternoons at the denbrough's became reading comics in the loft space with richie.
he's really close to figuring out what that might mean, but thankfully for eddie he just keeps talking right through any significant development potential. )
You'll start a civil war between if you start telling everyone you're my favourite.
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[Another rib at his books but it's not like he really cares. After everything, his relationship with the other losers was strained severely. He still loves them, still cares, but everything after Neibolt was done at an arm's length. He felt alone. More than ever.
He wasn't a natural peacekeeper. Never had been. He didn't mind a little friction if it meant they knew who took priority.]
Can you say I'm your favorite one more time? I want to record that for posterity.
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( another lie, but this one feels good. he's smiling around the words and it's probably audible. he doesn't mind so much. is it really such a bad thing, to tell richie plainly that he still thinks the world of him even after a few decades of missing time?
there's every chance the world won't end, if eddie doesn't wrap his love in barbed wire. and if it does, maybe it might be worth it. it just seems that maybe richie needs to hear these things more than eddie needs to not say them, that's all. )
Richard Wentworth Tozier, you are my favourite Loser and best friend, and if you ever use this against me I'll kill you. How about that?
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[His own smile has warped his words from awkward hesitation to something much more comfortable.]
That's great. I'll fix the rest in post.
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( he's very much not that, but it's fine. everyone's allowed to project the perfect version of themselves every now and then. )
Now you're supposed to say: You're my favourite too, much more than Ben even though he grew up to be a French soccer player or whatever.
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[Eddie's niceties took on a different form when they were together just the two of them. He opened up, instead of bottling up and all those contents under-pressure broke free.
He's poking fun at his expense, but he winds down after finishing off his glass. Quiet on the line until he hears Ben get mentioned.
1.) He was plastered and Ben was an easy bashful target
2.) All of that the drinking, the shamelessness, and his elephant not in the room was an active distraction from his own issues. Eddie Kaspbrak, white-knuckling his glass of wine and the memories that revolved around him and him alone.]
You've always been my favorite.
[It's to the point when he says it. Matter-of-fact like he'd known it his entire life and wasn't just saying it to appeasing. Some things he couldn't play fast and loose with.]
Brazilian. Besides ol' Haystack only every had eyes for Bev.
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( he's absolutely being facetious, he knows what richie said and he knows why he said it, there's just this complicated mess of something that surrounds that moment that eddie easily chalks up to the chaos of that entire dinner. reuniting a friends group like theirs was never going to be quiet or easy, and he's still shocked that no one got an itemised bill for that mess of an evening. )
Good. ( good?! good what, exactly? that he's richie's favourite, that it's always been eddie? that ben isn't about to ride off into a gay sunset with richie in his arms the moment they get back to derry? of course, eddie doesn't clarify. ) I still think most of your jokes aren't funny.
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[The response is more sarcastic than anything else. Brazilian wasn't a type so much as a comment, washboard and a nice cut jaw looked good on anyone. Richie stupidly needed more.]
And I still think you're a neurotic headcase. Doesn't mean you're not my fave.
[God, it all sounds so much like conversations had in the clubhouse during rainstorms when the radio wouldn't work and it was too dark to read.]
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( like he didn't completely bring it up.
god, this is nice. why did he ever think that space from richie was what he needed to process this whole place? he's already flopped on his bed and grinning into the receiver like a schoolgirl. it's a little ridiculous, actually. )
There's a lot of shit out there to be stressed about, Richie. I'm reasonably concerned, not neurotic.
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[Richie knew that both he and Eddie went to the batting cages to watch the games once in a while. Maybe for completely different reasons, but still. It's impossible not to feel like that stupid teenager again with Eddie around, it all feels new. It all makes him feel stupid.
It's nostalgic and there's comfort in that and so Richie leans back in his chair and heaves an easy sigh. He finally lets himself relax a little bit.]
You've never been reasonably concerned in your life.
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( he wonders if this is what it would have been like, if they'd been able to keep in touch. would eddie still have ended up in new york, richie in a faraway state. maybe they would have called while richie was on tour, just to check in. see how each other was doing.
it's a nice thought. nicer than it has any right to be. it's just a phone call. )
Do you know how many accidental deaths there are every year? How many people die from anaphylaxis? I do. I'm very reasonably concerned.
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[Sarcastic as he was being they had a natural ebb and flow that hadn't left since childhood. Being a smartass, was their love language, and he could always count on Eddie to be quick on the uptake and continue the banter when no one else would.]
Well. Anaphylaxis isn't the choking hazard here and that's the good news.
The bad news is that you've always been unreasonable but now you've just weaponized it into a marketable skill set. I work at a fuckin' arcade. I don't think there are very many positions like what you're used to in this city.
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( sounds like something a person without friends would say. )
I'm pretty sure this city is full of risks. Have you been outside? It's a literal nightmare. I would literally bet my hat there's people being sued right now wishing they had someone who's job it was to assess liabilities before it gets to that stage.
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[Richie lets the friends comment roll on by because it was true, at least in this situation. They did have friends but he couldn't remember the last true friendship he'd had before getting back to Derry.]
So maybe somewhere someone is looking for a guy like you. [He was. Right here. Right now.] But risk analysts just won't work here. No one cares. You could try to turn your stats into some beatnik poetry down at one of the clubs but I don't know if you'd make much money doing that.
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( eddie actually kind of desperately wants to know the answer, but he suspects richie will definitely hold out on him if he sounds too interested. it's a monumental effort to sound completely chill about it.
he wishes he knew more about what they were all like, after leaving derry. specifically wishes he knew more about richie. did he go to college? work shitty jobs? write poetry? eddie just wants to know....everything. it's a little intense. )
How about I hire you as my ghostwriter?
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Not unless you want a shitty hallmark card poem that ends in an insult.
[He absolutely did write poetry or tried his hand at it. He wasn't ever very good. Music was a love of his but only as a listener, he knew his strengths and he stuck to them.]
Only if I can hire you to follow me around and analyze all my risks. It'd be this place's first dead by conniption fit.