Eddie, you're just getting a head start. What's the worst that could happen? I get traveler's diarrhea? Come on.
The last thing he said to Eddie felt like a distant memory now, echoing against a void of colors he didn't understand. His blood is smeared into the ashy grit of dirt and kindling beneath palms scraped raw. The plan was to return the rental car he took from Chicago to the nearest lot and catch a quick plane back to New York to join Eddie, but he never showed. Somewhere between Derry and Castle Rock the mustang was left in a hotel lot and now covered with snow it didn't even look the same. It never made it to the lot, and neither did he. Now, he was somewhere different - the swillings of grime and grit he was lying in the only distraction he had from the blinding pain.
As vivid as every nightmare he'd witnessed as a child but too different to be the source, a pair of diamond-shaped yellow eyes watch him from the darkness of whatever pit he'd gotten dragged into. Whatever it is, it's not human, not even close- and those same eyes are all he can remember when he comes to under a harvest moon much the same color under someone's front porch? Completely naked, and surrounded by animal bones.]
Fuck! [Richie scrambles up too fast and knocks his head on the top of the deck and he realizes with dismay then through the streams of light that cut through the deck that he's covered in blood too.] Shit... Shit, fuck. Fuck.
[He claps his bloody palm over his mouth to keep anything more from falling out of his stupid mouth and crawls through the thicket and underbrush to escape into the ... barrens. Derry? Why the fuck was he back in Derry? He'd been under the porch of someone's mobile home, covered in who knows what, and it had to be the middle of the night because the moon was high in the sky, amassed by the twinkle of a thousand stars. At least he knew where he was, enough that the clatter and clamber it takes to get into the clubhouse underground was muscle memory. Maybe he never made it out, maybe they didn't all take care of IT, and Richie was floating in the deadlights being bled and fed this bullshit story. Maybe Derry's where his story ended.
It's been six months since the collapse of the Neibolt house and the loser's club victory over the god of "fear," Mike's library remains empty but there's an old flyer hanging in the storefront: a missing poster of Richie Tozier and his last description. Richie never made it to New York, he never made it out of Maine. The news outlets had moved on, a memorial special of his live shows was playing on Netflix. The only trace left of him had been a pair of glasses, bloody and shattered on the same roadside his rental car had been left on. Long since photographed and taken into evidence, leaked and pushed into every true crime outlet that would accept it.]
( In truth the last words they said to one another keeps repeating over and over in his head like a broken record. It's only eclipsed by the almost comforting sound of Richie's voicemail that Eddie finds himself listening to almost religiously at this point.
Although he had lingered in New York City for a little over a month after Richie's disappearance it wasn't long before Eddie found himself back in Maine. The other Losers had tried to help, did their best but after everything that happened there was only so much that he could ask of them. It was easier this way too, he thinks as he travels throughout the backwoods of Maine to towns he knew and didn't know in order to search for any traces of Richie.
But that's the hardest part because there isn't any trace to be found outside of his rental and bloody glasses. Police wrote it off as a robbery gone wrong but Eddie didn't by it because after everything? After finally finding each other again after nearly three decades just to lose one another again because of some roadside robbery? He just can't accept it and maybe that's a problem but its not one that Eddie is ready to face just yet.
So instead he travels through Castle Rock, Lake Kashwakamak and even as far as Dark Score Lake before retreating to the familiar face of Derry. He rents a small apartment outside of town itself near the familiarity of the Barrens he once called home with his friends. It's where he finds himself tonight, the trees around him illuminated by his flashlight and pack heavy on his side filled to the brim with papers, magazine clippings and all of his notes.
Eddie doesn't think he'll find anything, he's never found anything before but something draws him out here tonight. Perhaps, Eddie thinks, that might be the mistake when he comes across the obvious disturbed underbrush. It gets his heart racing, swallowing hard and feeling his stomach drop once the pathway leads him to the one place he hates disturbed— the clubhouse. )
Shit, shit— ( He breathes out and approaches, leaves crunching under his feet and shining the light down into the darkness of the clubhouse. ) I'm gonna get my dumbass killed, holy shit.
[It's the dead of winter, everything's iced over and cool to the touch but Richie doesn't feel cold. Steam rolls off his skin and out of his mouth with every breath. His hair is a little longer, ringlets drooping over the back of his neck and across the sides of his face.
He knows the clubhouse, remembers it well enough to know where he can tear off a piece of old fabric and scrape away some of the dried blood on his chest and stomach, caked into the hair there. It doesn't make much of a difference and he makes a sound of disgust, the dirt and grime under his too-long nails, and the discoloration of his skin. None of it makes sense. Nothing. He can't remember what- or when, but he knew it hadn't been close to winter. That's got his pulse going when Eddie shines the flashlight down through the trapdoor and Richie blocks his face against the brightness of it compared to the dark he'd been in for too long.
He can see fine in the dark. Without his glasses. He'd think more on that, but any time he tried to remember his head split and the room went sideways. He had a whole lot more to worry about, like the source of the light - something his eyes reflect against, unbeknownst to him. There are no weapons, no way of defending himself and so he falls back on old habits: run until you're cornered, and if nothing else works - lie.
He settles for the first part and pushes himself back further into the depths of the clubhouse, past the hammock and up against the utility desk, and then under it. Not a good feeling, being stuck in one place without any clothes or any way to defend himself. Maybe they didn't see him, maybe he'd get lucky and they think better of it and leave him alone.]
( Immediately he's on the defensive once his light catches the reflective glow of eyes in the darkness. Eddie would be worried about fucking wolves if not for the fact he knew that there wasn't any populations in Maine especially in fucking Derry of all places. A fucking cougar, bobcat or fuck— he could be shining his flashlight at a fucking bear right now.
But there was something that kept his focus down into the darkness of the clubhouse. He's almost transfixed until suddenly the shadow fucking moves and Eddie moves in response which was probably not in his best interest. With everything iced over it isn't a surprise when he fucking slips in the icy, wet mixture underneath his feet but what is a surprise is how fast his world shifts as he falls through the trapdoor.
He hits the ground with a hard sound as the air is knocked out of his lungs. A groan escapes him as he struggles against the pain that rushes through him, blood drumming in his ears and smell of the wet earth nearly overcoming him as he struggles to sit up. For a moment Eddie doesn't even think about the shadow down here with him until another sound shocks through him and he shoots up, scooting away from the sound and grasping for his flashlight.
It's only then that he sees what the light has illuminated— human feet. Dirty, covered in mud and grim but very much human and with a shaky sound he tilts the light just so that it becomes clear that he's seeing— )
[So much for leaving well enough alone, he was hoping that whoever stumbled across his hiding place would be smarter but the sound of what was clearly an accident sounds amplified in his ears, and when whoever that person falls against the rigid dirt the noise is so colossal to him that he jumps, and bumps the back of his head on the desk above him.
A sharp hiss of pain leaves his mouth, but he abruptly sucks it back in and tries to make himself small. Something, that never worked well for him, especially now. There wasn't any hiding anymore and when the light finds his eyes again he's in close enough proximity that they don't reflect when he squints against the beam. Barely able to make out the person behind it, just the familiar shape of him, and the cut of his jaw.]
Eddie?
[Richie's reluctant to believe that it's actually him. That his voice has found him here of all places, and so he doesn't move. Still guarded, with his bent down to his chest in a way that definitely shouldn't be possible. He'd come close to death multiple times the last time they'd seen each other, simply from being out of shape with atrophied muscles and bad joints, paired with an awful lifestyle and diet.]
Is that you- is it- is it really you, man?
[His mouth feels dry, fear settling into his bones rooting him still in place. This could all be some trick, some scheme, Eddie might come close, and turn into that fucking clown and he's not sure he could bear that so he stays put. Safer that way.]
( Despite the pain rushing through him as he moves, Eddie is quick to start moving toward his friend in the darkness and pull the winter jacket off of his body as he does. There is a moment of worry but not for himself instead it is all focused on Richie and his friend's current state of being. He has so many questions, so many things that he wants to say but first things first— )
Jesus Christ— is that blood? Are you hurt? I'm parked near here and we can get to the hospital in Bangor where shit is actually halfway modern.
( He pauses in his rant as he pushes the jacket out to try and get it around Richie's shoulders. )
I can't believe I found you— I can't believe you're really here.
I-I think? I woke up in a pile of bones, man. Not far from here?
Richie's hands are covered in it too, but he's not hurt. He runs his palms across his chest, and over his waistline. No, nothing significant anyway. He'd be more worried about Eddie seeing him like this if he weren't scared out of his wits. He's not sure how he got here. He doesn't know why he's covered in blood, and why the fuck there's more than an inch of snow and ice outside.]
I'm fine- I think? I don't need to go to Bangor. I need... I can't remember anything, I- wait, are you okay?
[Richie takes the jacket, but it doesn't do much to cover what needs to be covered so he ties it around his waist instead, and turns it to cover his junk like some weird combination hobo-tarzan. He looks like something out of the jungle, hair shaggy, a longer beard than he'd ever worn before. He's exhausted, and the weariness is another shadow on his stained face.]
( Despite the concern, Eddie doesn't hold back from grasping at Richie's hands and pulling them close to him. If anything surprises him is how warm Richie is despite it being in the middle of winter and Richie as naked as the day he was born. He breathes out shakily, finally pulling back and pulling his sweater off as well to help his friend cover up against the cold. )
Am I okay? Ye-yeah, I'm fine. Do you think you can stand? I have a place not far from here, get you cleaned up and somewhere warm.
Yeah, I don't - I don't remember making it back to Derry. I don't remember everything after stopping outside of Castlerock. I hit something.
[That's it, that's all he remembers, and even though some of the yellowing bruises are his own they don't feel like anything. His skin feels thick, tight, almost like armor.
He takes Eddie's sweater and tries to yank it back over Eddie's head. He's not even cold, and he'd worry about that later when they were someplace safe and out of the cold.]
Fine, but wear your own fucking sweater. Yours is too tight for me.
[It's not technically a lie so he sticks with it, and crawls out from under the countertop so he can get to his feet. Eddie's jacket is covering up what counts and it's not like he could look worse if he tried. He's caked in filth from head to toe like he's been swimming in mud for all the time he's been gone. He doesn't even know how long he's been missing, and that truth would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later.] I thought you went back to New York.
That— that's okay. ( It really isn't but Eddie shakes his head trying to get his point across while also trying to rid his overwhelming thoughts. ) We'll figure something out, okay?
( After that Eddie isn't sure where to go. His first thought is to contact the other Losers and let them know what has happened and then he imagines that next would be fucking cops since Richie is an official missing person.
There is a quiet moment where he is feeling the panic raising in his chest but focuses back in as Richie tries to yank his sweater back over his head. )
Wha— fine, fine. Fucking shit, dude, I'm just trying to be nice here because its fucking cold out here.
( He struggles back onto his own feet, tilting awkwardly as he ignores the pain in his body from his fall earlier and instead focuses on Richie— or at least Richie's face. What the fuck happened? It gets his mind racing to the point of almost panic again but thankfully (once again) Richie speaks and brings him back into the current moment with a shudder of air. )
I did go back to New York. I went back and I waited for you and— ( His voice cracks, strained and he breathes out another shaky sound. ) It's been six months since we last saw each other, Rich.
[Very cold, but it doesn't seem to bother Richie who has shown absolutely no physical signs of being cold. None. He's dirty, caked from head to toe in mud and debris that he didn't want to diagnose. Despite it all, he still manages to look tired. Worn thin at the edges in a way that showed what he'd been through without him being able to remember.]
What? No- Not a chance. Stop fucking with me.
[Six months? That's a lot to quantify and bargain with. Richie could buy a week at the most, but the severity of Eddie's voice is a little too real to be some put-on act.] I mean it. [Please? It's not funny, but he really wants it to be some kind of joke.]
( It's not hard to notice and Eddie can't help but worry if Richie is suffering from hypothermia but despite that Richie doesn't seem to be showing any other signs. Still he can't looking at him with big, saddened eyes before reaching out as if to take Richie's hand but ultimately pausing as if he isn't sure Rich wants the comfort of his touch. )
I'm not lying to you. ( He says quietly, surely but clearly wishing he was lying. ) The cops spun some bullshit story about a mugging gone wrong but I couldn't— I didn't believe them. So I sold all my shit and came up here after they closed the case, I wanted to find you.
Nobody else? Six months and where the fuck have I been?
[Richie's trying to figure out why he can't remember half of a year of his life when it occurs to him that Eddie risked his neck in the worst place of their lives to find him. That feeling melts away the doubt and the worry for a minute and his eyes soften. No glasses on his face, and somehow he can see Eddie just fine. The scar on his cheek had healed over, but he looked scrawnier than he remembered - like the worry had taken its toll.
It's natural for him to shift his focus on Eddie instead because that's a lot easier to handle than the unknown.]
No. I just couldn't ask the others to uproot everything and come with me. They've helped, um— are helping out where they can. Everyone has contacts, you know? Everyone is pulling strings and I'm doing the leg work.
( He smiles at that, unable to help himself and fighting hard to make sure that Richie didn't notice the watery shine in his eyes. Instead, Eddie stands with a bit of a shake and this time actually reaches out to touch Richie and offer his hand. )
You don't have to thank me, Rich. I'd never forgive myself if something happened when we just found each other again. Now, come on, dude— it's cold as shit out here and you're bare ass is shining in the moonlight. Let's get you indoors and in some clothes.
[Another short joke, it's a whole lot easier than leaning into how vulnerable this all makes him feel. He grabs Eddie's hand, and after giving him another joking leg up they exit what used to be their secret base.
Richie still doesn't feel very cold. Even with the snow still falling into his unkempt hair, some of it sloughs from there to a shoulder and he wipes it away where it falls.]
Yeah, dumbass, my fucking legs. Be glad I run as much as I do.
( Despite the venom in his voice there is a smile on his lips. Eddie doubts that he'll stop smiling for now because Richie is here and alive and— God, he's not dreaming. This is real. He can't even bring himself to hiss about Richie helpful leg up as they're exiting the old clubhouse.
Still the worry is apparent in his wide eyes as they stand there in the falling snow. He's so caught up in the worry drumming through his heart until Richie's voice breaks through it and he focuses back in. )
Not far from here. You think you'll be okay for a short walk?
[Because Richie barely managed to run from IT while back in Derry without killing himself. The idea of an Eddie that got up early in the morning to jog brought a smile to his face, all those years of being told he couldn't run, couldn't bike by his mom just to maintain a healthy lifestyle in spite of her years later.
His physical upkeep went south fast after childhood, and now he apparently blacked out and lost half a year. It's a small wonder he made it out of their reunion unscathed.]
I'll be fine. I mean- [Richie casts a sweeping hand out over his general appearance. He's clearly been through worse. What? He couldn't remember, but it still went without saying.] Just warn me if a car is driving by or something so I can duck back into the brush. I don't want anyone thinking Bigfoot's out here in barrens.
I tried for 15 to 20 miles a day. Hudson River Path was always a good run or the Central Park Loop but I don't get as much here because I'm worried about someone hitting me with their fucking van and leaving me for dead in a ditch.
( It's a good distraction as Eddie walks, chopping his hand through the air and huffing cold breaths air out. He still can't help glancing over to Richie with a small frown but ultimately smiling softly as he confirms that he'll be fine. A part of Eddie doesn't believe him but what else can he do?
Thankfully it isn't a long walk from the dark Barrens to an out limit where his car is parked. He moves forward first and looks around before hurrying over to his truck, pulling a blanket free and moving back to Richie. )
Here— cover your ass before it fucking blinds someone. ( Another smile but he leads his friend over to the car, getting in and getting it going. He breathes out a small shudder before turning the heat on. ) Okay, so, I'm gonna drop you off at my place and go get you some shit.
— Clothes, toothbrush, some fucking soap. Anything else you want? Something to eat, maybe?
Are you fucking kidding me? 15 miles? I don't think I've run that far ... ever.
[Except that he has in the past month, but doesn't remember it. Richie snatches the blanket and wraps it around himself like a hooded cloak. It feels good to not have the wet snow on him and to have something dry, soft, and that smelled strongly of Italian leather and ... Eddie, around him.
He pulls the overshirt off and holds it out for Eddie to take, not sure what to do with it now that he's covered up and decent.] I'll have you know the only reason my ass would blind someone is that it's too intense. It's like looking at the sun.
[The car and the heat of it make him feel a lot warmer than he's used to and despite not minding the warmth on his lower half he's getting overheated everywhere up north and so he lets the blanket fall off of him in a loose puddle around his waist.]
I dunno. I mean, thanks, for everything but I'm just - I feel out of it, Eds. I just want to take a shower and sleep for another six months. [That wasn't part of it, he's sure, but whatever happened between the last thing he can remember and now makes him nervous, and that sick feeling comes bubbling up worse than before.]
Yeah, well— I only did it because I was miserable and didn't want a reason to be at home.
( It's said lightly and casually with only a simple shrug of his shoulders. It didn't change much after returning from Derry but only because Eddie didn't want to go home to a house without Richie in it which what led him here.
He pulls out of the parking space into the darkness of the roads leading back toward Derry. Although the lights of the small town appear in the horizon, he turns down a dirt road that leads into a small clearing among aspen trees with a small A-frame home occupying the center of the sight. )
No, um— I can't say I get, you know? I think I might have some things you can fit in if you'd rather just me stay tonight and I'll get you some clothes tomorrow? ( Either way, he moves to shut off the car and wait for Richie to follow before he unlocks the door and leads them inside. ) It's not much but it's worked. I've got to clean up the second bedroom since I've been using it as an office so you can sleep upstairs in my room.
[After the admission, the ride home is pretty quiet, Richie is watching the roadside with anticipation of something - what, he didn't know. He kept thinking he'd see something, anything, that might explain where he's been, and when nothing comes he settles back into the seat and the blanket and shuts his eyes. He knows he has to look awful, he can feel where his hair is longer, down the back of his neck more than it was before and he knows he could use a shave, but beyond that and what he could see for himself on his hands, stomach, and legs, he has no idea how bad it really is.
The place Eddie dries up to is off the beaten path and tucked away. Just how he'd imagine Eddie might rent in a town that tortured them both as kids. The air is clear, but at what cost. That's all he can think about when he exits the vehicle and follows him inside. At a loss for words until:]
( Once they're inside, Eddie gets the door locked and moves to tend to the small wood stove that sits at the center of the living room. He doesn't acknowledge the comment until he shuts the oven door and approached Richie with a shake of his head. )
I got a couch, Rich and an airbed. I'll be fine and you deserve a chance to sleep somewhere that isn't in the woods, dude.
[Besides looking like the Live-Action Tarzan, he had no aches and pains. No memory of anything and that was the only thing that did bother him. The unknown, what happened to him out there by Castle Rock and why did he lose so much time?
He knows this could turn into a fighting match, some kind of argument that would last an hour at least so he relents with an uncomfortable sigh.] At least park the air mattress in the same room so I'm not alone. Who knows ... I might go missing again. Maybe ET forgot to leave his number.
Yeah, you feel fine now but that might change in the morning.
( He breathes out a sigh through his nose but ultimately Eddie nods, itching at his neck and glancing away with a thoughtful look. It only lasts for a moment but he nods and moves toward the storage closet so he can try and remember just where he shoved the fucking air mattress. )
Like the slumber parties we used to have as kids, yeah? Alright, I'll get things set up upstairs and there's a bathroom attached so go take your time, okay? I'll make sure no Reese's Pieces loving aliens come and kidnap you.
[All things considered, this was the best case of amnesia he's ever experienced.No nasty bumps or contusions, nothing on his head anyway, and no aches and pains he wasn't sure about. Richie knew it would rear its ugly head sooner or later but he didn't want to think about that right now. Not when a hot shower and a warm bed were both calling his name.
Richie got in the shower thinking about the slumber parties they used to have, what he could remember of them and there were nights when Eddie would fall asleep on top of him while they were reading the same book. Those nights were the hardest for him, knowing what he knew about himself, and how sharing it'd probably get them both killed.
The shower only takes about 30 minutes but Richie spends another twenty cleaning up the amount of dirt and crud that came off of him. By the time he's done with unclogging the drain and wiping out the tub, he's too tired to think about shaving or anything else. He settles for a black t-shirt and what looked like a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring because nothing else looked like it'd fit. The sweats ride up a little high, exposing ankle, but otherwise fit fine for going commando. He sinks onto the mattress face first with a groan. What the fuck had he been doing for half of a year?]
( Eddie can't help offering a small smile before Richie moves upstairs to take a shower. It isn't long before he's found his air mattress and tugs it upstairs, setting everything up and getting his spare sheets and comforter set up. Thankfully, despite the snow outside, his home keeps warm and once he's changed its easy for Eddie for finally relax for the first time in what felt like months.
Still he doesn't feel like he can sleep until Richie is actually out of the shower and back in the room. He's fiddling with his phone when Richie reappears and looks up with a small smile. Okay, yeah, he still looked like some weird Tarzan version of Richie but Eddie can't care because he's here. He's actually here and alive and God did he— )
I really missed you, man. ( He says suddenly and without prompt before a flush of color appears on his cheeks. ) I still can't believe I managed to find you.
[Besides a little grooming of his body, his skin, and his nails he hasn't made an effort on the tangle of hair on his scalp or the winter beard he's sporting. It's warm enough in the small two story cottage if it could be called that, and Richie's happy to have Eddie close to him. It's comforting enough to almost drown out the loud voice in the back of his head telling him that something was seriously wrong.]
If anyone was gonna find me it'd be you.
[For all he knew, Eddie could've thought he was dead this entire time. Hanging onto the pipe dream that somehow he made it out of whatever it was unscathed. Richie's not so sure he did, all he can remember is a flash across the road, and getting out to see what he hit. It goes dark after that.
Richie rests his cheek against the mattress to get a look at Eddie on the air bed right beside him. Neither bed is exceptionally big but Richie feels like the space between them is too large, all the same. Back in Derry he never got to tell him how he felt. There were some lingering touches, touches that were too heavy and too meaningful to be just friendly but he'd planned to ease into it. Help him with the shit with Moira- oh fuck. Right. Moira. Did he go that alone too?]
Didn't mean to worry you or leave you behind, dude.
You save me from getting stabbed by a fucking alien clown and I find you. ( It's said lightly before he smiles. ) I wasn't going to give up on you, Rich. After all— you never gave up on me.
( He doesn't know just how to express his feelings and to admit that he never once thought Richie dead. Eddie ultimately can't say how the others felt especially after everything that had happened to them but at least they hadn't tried to talk Eddie out of this venture. They did what they could while also protecting themselves and, yeah, maybe he should have thought more about himself but—
But there wasn't a life for him without Richie.
That's why he can't help but think that the space between them is too much also. He wants so, so much to reach out and grasp his hand or brush his hair back or just— something. Instead he sits there on the air mattress and simply watches, so happy in the moment but unable to deny the worry lingering in his chest. )
It's okay, Rich. I'm just glad you're here and that I'll wake up tomorrow and you'll still be right here.
[Richie gives him a fond look, soft in the same eyes that shone against the beam of the flashlight earlier. Looking at Eddie now it's easy to forget waking up in bones, being covered in blood, and that fucking clown. It's easier instead to remember their childhood, what they meant to each other, and what time had forced them to forget.]
I know and I promise that I won't let anything happen to you without a fight this time.
( Because that is ultimately the scariest thing about all of this. Neither of them know just what has happened over these last six months and they might never know but Eddie is certain of one thing— he won't let Richie out of his sight again. It's why he can't help reach over, brushing some of the wild curls out of his friend's face and smiles. )
Go to sleep, Rich. You need the rest, I'm sure and I'll be here so don't worry.
[The soft touch is the last thing Richie's expecting, they came close to it and to more than half a dozen times during their reunion in Derry, but Eddie hadn't been very assertive yet and Richie was doing his best to avoid pressure in the situation. It had been strained enough, to begin with, then he fucking disappeared which couldn't have helped.
He holds Eddie's gaze for a while, but it's the last thing he remembers - his eyes, those lashes, the faint ghost of freckles that were bolder when he blushed. Whatever had got him under that house and covered in blood had apparently taken a lot out of him because he falls asleep not long after that and he sleeps well into the afternoon until the memory of those yellow eyes come back and he jumps, waking with a start.]
( It's harder still for Eddie to fall asleep with that worry and fear continuing to bleed into his every thought. He's so afraid of losing focus on Richie and waking up to find out this was all some dream where he'd be left in a world without the person that had become (no doubt, perhaps, had always been) the most important person in his life.
That's why it takes a few hours for Eddie to fell comfortable enough to fall asleep. Once he does though the sleep is uneasy and more than once he wakes up with a start. Though once he finds Richie in the darkness of his room then he is able to ease back into a needed, comfortable sleep.
By the time Richie wakes up with a start, Eddie has been awake for hours and working from the airbed on his computer. Needless to say he also jumps, nearly spilling his drink everywhere before moving toward Richie with a concerned (if startled) look on his face. )
Rich, hey Richie, you're okay. ( He reaches for one of his friend's hands and squeezes it. ) I'm here and you're okay, remember?
[Richie goes for his glasses first, realizing absently that he still doesn't have them. He doesn't have them and he can see just fine, with the acknowledgment of that Richie claps a hand over his forehead and sighs. His other hand occupied with Eddie's Richie doesn't move his gaze from the popcorn on the ceiling above them.]
I had this nightmare that I went missing for half a year... and I hit something in the road and it, the eyes. [His brows furrow.] I don't know.
( Eddie notices the gesture for the glasses that don't exist and he mentally adds getting in touch with Richie's ophthalmologist so they can get him a new pair of glasses. He keeps his gaze forward though and once again squeezes his friend's hand as he scoots closer to where Richie lays in bed. )
First part was definitely true. I really don't know how much truth exists in the rest of that though but that's all it is, Rich— a nightmare. ( He shifts again and reaches up to gently brush some of Richie's hair from his face. ) You hungry? I figured I could run into town and grab some things for you along with some food. We'll need to cut your hair too.
[Richie was hungry, but he didn't want Eddie to go just yet. He pulls Eddie in, breathes into a place just between his clavicle and the crook of his neck. It's more intimate than they had a chance to be in Derry before when every bit of him was screaming out to kiss him against that townhouse wall and in the quarry.] If you're going, I'm going. I'll sit in the car, that way I don't have to go out in public wearing your pint-sized hand-me-downs.
( There's a soft sound that escapes Eddie as Richie pulls him in. The intimacy is palpable and he can't help but pull Richie in closer, scooting in close on his knees despite the pain and burrowing his nose against Richie's hairline. )
They're not hand-me-downs, you piece of shit. ( He murmurs, chuckling that trying not to think to hard about how his lips brush against his friend's skin. ) Come on, we'll go into town and get some things and head back so we can take care of your scratchy face.
( He leans back slightly with that and huffs. ) Because I'm not going to let our first kiss be when you're sitting here looking like some lumberjack.
[It feels good to be close to him again, but he's still tentative about getting too close. Richie doesn't know what's going on, he's not sure why he can see fine without his glasses or why he's wired the moment he wakes up like he could run a marathon. If he's a danger to Eddie he should leave, and he knows that, but having him close like this is all he's ever really wanted.]
Maybe not for you, but they look at least a size and a half too small. It's not cute.
[Richie reaches up and runs his nails through the beard Eddie mentioned with a light shrug. He could use a trim, that wasn't a bad idea.] Best friend turned groomer. Got it.
Our first what now? [They hadn't talked about it, they had come close dozens of times. Richie had reached out and held his hand while lying on the dingy ground in Its lair, and spoken with his eyes instead. That's as intimate as they'd gotten, besides Richie promising to help him button everything up back in New York.]
( Similar thoughts are running through Eddie's mind as they sit their together. Not that he would run away but how instead to keep Richie from running away from him. This half year without him had been, perhaps, the worst time of his life and he can't imagine (doesn't want to imagine) living his life without Richie again. )
It is a little funny though. Sort of reminds me of the summer before school started when you grew so much and your mom couldn't keep up.
( He tilts his head though and smiles softly though there is a notable hint of sadness. )
I want to kiss you, asshole. I should have kissed you at the quarry and the townhouse and in the car before you fucking left. ( He shakes his head feeling overwhelmed, raw but wanting to lay it out. ) I thought about the whole drive to New York. I thought about it while I waited for you to call. I thought about it all night while you slept.
( Eddie can't help letting his gaze drift slightly before he focuses back in on Richie. )
I doubt I looked like this the summer before school.
[Richie was halfway to Bigfoot and he knew it. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror after he showered, and it's the longest his hair has been in his life. The notion though brings a grin to his face, sharp-toothed and wry, the glint of genuine emotion hidden behind his eyes.] You should have. Maybe it would've saved us both some grief.
I've been thinking about that and a whole lot more since I was thirteen, but we can't both be puritans. I wouldn't let a bad hair day stop me either, but here we are.
No way, definitely not anything like this. You had more of a failed attempt at a mustache and a bush of curly hair on your head.
( He really was some long lost Bigfoot kin, Eddie was sure but its hard to think about stupid jokes like that when Richie is sitting here in his personal space and smiling. It's really the first smile that Eddie can remember seeing on Richie since their abrupt reunion yesterday. )
Yeah, maybe but when has shit in our lives ever been easy? I remember writing my name but using your last name like some school girl with a crush but I guess I was.
( With a smile, Eddie shakes his head and adjusts on his knee in order to lean in proper. )
I do, yeah and you know that I love you too, right? Jesus, Rich— sometimes I think loving you is the only thing that's kept me going. I couldn't— I wouldn't lose you again and maybe that's selfish but for once I really, really want something so bad that I don't care what anyone tells me.
( Be it locals, the police or even his fucking friends. He wouldn't ever, never give up on Richie. That's why its easy enough to just lean in and capture Richie's lips and pour every single emotion he has felt all his life for this man into it. )
[Richie remembered everything, when the pining started and when the discomforts of puberty set in but at that point he'd moved from childhood crushes into survival mode. A different kind of surviving, but one that required pedal to the metal in the same fashion.]
Huh. Eddie Tozier? Not sure it has the right ring to it.
[Ring being a triple entendre in this case. He has to make a mental note to ask about Moira, about how all that went without him. He'd made a lot of promises he failed to keep up with. He really raked poor Eddie over the coals by going missing and then losing months of his life. It's hard to believe this is real, here and now.
The big speech, those beautiful eyes. He's not expecting any of it, half of him thinks that this is maybe just heaven. All of his dreams culminate in some bizarre comeback story but no- the kiss is the real deal, and it's enough to make his chest ache.
He slips his hand into Eddie's hair and pushes his lips back into his to return the intention. He wasn't alone in that, in any of it. He should've kissed him at the townhouse, in the tunnels, on the drive to the airport. He was stupid for not doing that. Stupid.]
( It's a little awkward given that Eddie is sitting on his knees between Richie's own, pressing up so they might be able to kiss. It's everything and more that he has thought their first kiss might be like since he was a fucking pre-teen. Richie's hand in his hair gets a tired gasp out of him as he pushes further up, hooking his hand around the nape of his neck and letting his finger tangle with his grown out hair. )
Is that a hint at marriage? ( He asks breathless but smiling dumbly, eyes big and bright. ) I mean I just got a divorce but you're worth it, you know. I just wanna stay with you this time. I can't watch you drive away again.
( He lifts up more on his knees, cupping Richie's cheek and letting their noses press together. )
My memories of you— I've been trying to remember all that I can. I'm sure that there's still some missing because fucking space clowns, man but those were some of my best memories. I want to make even more of those memories with you.
Marriage? You gonna make an honest man out of me, Eds?
[The kiss leaves him breathless, desperate, almost feral for more but he relents. The events that he can't remember have worn him thin and he feels that under layers of something else, kind of like someone else was wearing his skin or pushing out all the negative from deep within where he'd hidden it.
He still didn't have any memories and with how much time had passed it was cause for concern. He didn't want to focus on any of that, he wanted to focus on the now. Here with Eddie, picking up the broken fragments of what they never got a chance to be.] Maybe we should figure this out first. As much as I wanna ride out into the sunset with you, there's something wrong here. Something that has nothing to do with fuckin' space clowns, but they — those were my best memories too. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You don't have to incentivize to keep me around.
( Much like Richie, he can't help but want more but he relents by sitting back although Eddie makes sure to keep his hands close to the other man's own as a comforting anchor against the winds of literally everything else. Somewhere in the distant he hears the rumble of thunder, an annoying addition to the snow already falling and reminding him on the thundercloud that has been lingering over them since last night.
There is just so, so, so many questions that still need to be answered and finding Richie was only the tip of the iceberg. It's a fact that makes him duck his head, breathing shakily because God— was he taking advantage of Rich in what is a really fucking vulnerable state for him? )
Yeah, yeah— fuck— I'm sorry, Rich. I'm throwing on all of this on you when you've got six months of missing memories after being fucking kidnapped. Just know that I'm gonna do everything I can, okay? Just let me know what you need and I'll take care of it.
[Richie stretches his arms out over his head, the jolt from the bad dream all but forgotten. When he does, the blanket falls down around his waist, exposing his bare chest and torso and the scarred and bubbled-up mangled tissue on his back a few centimeters from his spine and just above his hip.]
Don't apologize. I don't care. I just got to kiss the cutest dude in all of ... Derry. Are we still in Derry? Fuck. [He wanted to leave this stupid city so far in the rearview that Maine wouldn't exist to him anymore and now here he was. Stuck in the same fucking place or nearby. His past six months remain a blur of disorientation and distant memories of pain.]
( It's hard not to immediately notice the scarring and mangled tissue now decorating Richie's skin and without thought— Eddie reaches out to let his fingers graze over the skin. What the hell had even happened? What could have caused Richie to vanish off the fucking face of the Earth? )
I'm not cute, dickwad. I'm forty-years-old. ( He says on a laugh but ultimately shakes his head. )
Close enough. We're right outside the city lines, I managed to get this place for cheap and its sort of been my home base while I've been looking for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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The last thing he said to Eddie felt like a distant memory now, echoing against a void of colors he didn't understand. His blood is smeared into the ashy grit of dirt and kindling beneath palms scraped raw. The plan was to return the rental car he took from Chicago to the nearest lot and catch a quick plane back to New York to join Eddie, but he never showed. Somewhere between Derry and Castle Rock the mustang was left in a hotel lot and now covered with snow it didn't even look the same. It never made it to the lot, and neither did he. Now, he was somewhere different - the swillings of grime and grit he was lying in the only distraction he had from the blinding pain.
As vivid as every nightmare he'd witnessed as a child but too different to be the source, a pair of diamond-shaped yellow eyes watch him from the darkness of whatever pit he'd gotten dragged into. Whatever it is, it's not human, not even close- and those same eyes are all he can remember when he comes to under a harvest moon much the same color under someone's front porch? Completely naked, and surrounded by animal bones.]
Fuck! [Richie scrambles up too fast and knocks his head on the top of the deck and he realizes with dismay then through the streams of light that cut through the deck that he's covered in blood too.] Shit... Shit, fuck. Fuck.
[He claps his bloody palm over his mouth to keep anything more from falling out of his stupid mouth and crawls through the thicket and underbrush to escape into the ... barrens. Derry? Why the fuck was he back in Derry? He'd been under the porch of someone's mobile home, covered in who knows what, and it had to be the middle of the night because the moon was high in the sky, amassed by the twinkle of a thousand stars. At least he knew where he was, enough that the clatter and clamber it takes to get into the clubhouse underground was muscle memory. Maybe he never made it out, maybe they didn't all take care of IT, and Richie was floating in the deadlights being bled and fed this bullshit story. Maybe Derry's where his story ended.
It's been six months since the collapse of the Neibolt house and the loser's club victory over the god of "fear," Mike's library remains empty but there's an old flyer hanging in the storefront: a missing poster of Richie Tozier and his last description. Richie never made it to New York, he never made it out of Maine. The news outlets had moved on, a memorial special of his live shows was playing on Netflix. The only trace left of him had been a pair of glasses, bloody and shattered on the same roadside his rental car had been left on. Long since photographed and taken into evidence, leaked and pushed into every true crime outlet that would accept it.]
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Although he had lingered in New York City for a little over a month after Richie's disappearance it wasn't long before Eddie found himself back in Maine. The other Losers had tried to help, did their best but after everything that happened there was only so much that he could ask of them. It was easier this way too, he thinks as he travels throughout the backwoods of Maine to towns he knew and didn't know in order to search for any traces of Richie.
But that's the hardest part because there isn't any trace to be found outside of his rental and bloody glasses. Police wrote it off as a robbery gone wrong but Eddie didn't by it because after everything? After finally finding each other again after nearly three decades just to lose one another again because of some roadside robbery? He just can't accept it and maybe that's a problem but its not one that Eddie is ready to face just yet.
So instead he travels through Castle Rock, Lake Kashwakamak and even as far as Dark Score Lake before retreating to the familiar face of Derry. He rents a small apartment outside of town itself near the familiarity of the Barrens he once called home with his friends. It's where he finds himself tonight, the trees around him illuminated by his flashlight and pack heavy on his side filled to the brim with papers, magazine clippings and all of his notes.
Eddie doesn't think he'll find anything, he's never found anything before but something draws him out here tonight. Perhaps, Eddie thinks, that might be the mistake when he comes across the obvious disturbed underbrush. It gets his heart racing, swallowing hard and feeling his stomach drop once the pathway leads him to the one place he hates disturbed— the clubhouse. )
Shit, shit— ( He breathes out and approaches, leaves crunching under his feet and shining the light down into the darkness of the clubhouse. ) I'm gonna get my dumbass killed, holy shit.
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He knows the clubhouse, remembers it well enough to know where he can tear off a piece of old fabric and scrape away some of the dried blood on his chest and stomach, caked into the hair there. It doesn't make much of a difference and he makes a sound of disgust, the dirt and grime under his too-long nails, and the discoloration of his skin. None of it makes sense. Nothing. He can't remember what- or when, but he knew it hadn't been close to winter. That's got his pulse going when Eddie shines the flashlight down through the trapdoor and Richie blocks his face against the brightness of it compared to the dark he'd been in for too long.
He can see fine in the dark. Without his glasses. He'd think more on that, but any time he tried to remember his head split and the room went sideways. He had a whole lot more to worry about, like the source of the light - something his eyes reflect against, unbeknownst to him. There are no weapons, no way of defending himself and so he falls back on old habits: run until you're cornered, and if nothing else works - lie.
He settles for the first part and pushes himself back further into the depths of the clubhouse, past the hammock and up against the utility desk, and then under it. Not a good feeling, being stuck in one place without any clothes or any way to defend himself. Maybe they didn't see him, maybe he'd get lucky and they think better of it and leave him alone.]
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But there was something that kept his focus down into the darkness of the clubhouse. He's almost transfixed until suddenly the shadow fucking moves and Eddie moves in response which was probably not in his best interest. With everything iced over it isn't a surprise when he fucking slips in the icy, wet mixture underneath his feet but what is a surprise is how fast his world shifts as he falls through the trapdoor.
He hits the ground with a hard sound as the air is knocked out of his lungs. A groan escapes him as he struggles against the pain that rushes through him, blood drumming in his ears and smell of the wet earth nearly overcoming him as he struggles to sit up. For a moment Eddie doesn't even think about the shadow down here with him until another sound shocks through him and he shoots up, scooting away from the sound and grasping for his flashlight.
It's only then that he sees what the light has illuminated— human feet. Dirty, covered in mud and grim but very much human and with a shaky sound he tilts the light just so that it becomes clear that he's seeing— )
Richie...?
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A sharp hiss of pain leaves his mouth, but he abruptly sucks it back in and tries to make himself small. Something, that never worked well for him, especially now. There wasn't any hiding anymore and when the light finds his eyes again he's in close enough proximity that they don't reflect when he squints against the beam. Barely able to make out the person behind it, just the familiar shape of him, and the cut of his jaw.]
Eddie?
[Richie's reluctant to believe that it's actually him. That his voice has found him here of all places, and so he doesn't move. Still guarded, with his bent down to his chest in a way that definitely shouldn't be possible. He'd come close to death multiple times the last time they'd seen each other, simply from being out of shape with atrophied muscles and bad joints, paired with an awful lifestyle and diet.]
Is that you- is it- is it really you, man?
[His mouth feels dry, fear settling into his bones rooting him still in place. This could all be some trick, some scheme, Eddie might come close, and turn into that fucking clown and he's not sure he could bear that so he stays put. Safer that way.]
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( Despite the pain rushing through him as he moves, Eddie is quick to start moving toward his friend in the darkness and pull the winter jacket off of his body as he does. There is a moment of worry but not for himself instead it is all focused on Richie and his friend's current state of being. He has so many questions, so many things that he wants to say but first things first— )
Jesus Christ— is that blood? Are you hurt? I'm parked near here and we can get to the hospital in Bangor where shit is actually halfway modern.
( He pauses in his rant as he pushes the jacket out to try and get it around Richie's shoulders. )
I can't believe I found you— I can't believe you're really here.
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Richie's hands are covered in it too, but he's not hurt. He runs his palms across his chest, and over his waistline. No, nothing significant anyway. He'd be more worried about Eddie seeing him like this if he weren't scared out of his wits. He's not sure how he got here. He doesn't know why he's covered in blood, and why the fuck there's more than an inch of snow and ice outside.]
I'm fine- I think? I don't need to go to Bangor. I need... I can't remember anything, I- wait, are you okay?
[Richie takes the jacket, but it doesn't do much to cover what needs to be covered so he ties it around his waist instead, and turns it to cover his junk like some weird combination hobo-tarzan. He looks like something out of the jungle, hair shaggy, a longer beard than he'd ever worn before. He's exhausted, and the weariness is another shadow on his stained face.]
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( Despite the concern, Eddie doesn't hold back from grasping at Richie's hands and pulling them close to him. If anything surprises him is how warm Richie is despite it being in the middle of winter and Richie as naked as the day he was born. He breathes out shakily, finally pulling back and pulling his sweater off as well to help his friend cover up against the cold. )
Am I okay? Ye-yeah, I'm fine. Do you think you can stand? I have a place not far from here, get you cleaned up and somewhere warm.
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[That's it, that's all he remembers, and even though some of the yellowing bruises are his own they don't feel like anything. His skin feels thick, tight, almost like armor.
He takes Eddie's sweater and tries to yank it back over Eddie's head. He's not even cold, and he'd worry about that later when they were someplace safe and out of the cold.]
Fine, but wear your own fucking sweater. Yours is too tight for me.
[It's not technically a lie so he sticks with it, and crawls out from under the countertop so he can get to his feet. Eddie's jacket is covering up what counts and it's not like he could look worse if he tried. He's caked in filth from head to toe like he's been swimming in mud for all the time he's been gone. He doesn't even know how long he's been missing, and that truth would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later.] I thought you went back to New York.
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( After that Eddie isn't sure where to go. His first thought is to contact the other Losers and let them know what has happened and then he imagines that next would be fucking cops since Richie is an official missing person.
There is a quiet moment where he is feeling the panic raising in his chest but focuses back in as Richie tries to yank his sweater back over his head. )
Wha— fine, fine. Fucking shit, dude, I'm just trying to be nice here because its fucking cold out here.
( He struggles back onto his own feet, tilting awkwardly as he ignores the pain in his body from his fall earlier and instead focuses on Richie— or at least Richie's face. What the fuck happened? It gets his mind racing to the point of almost panic again but thankfully (once again) Richie speaks and brings him back into the current moment with a shudder of air. )
I did go back to New York. I went back and I waited for you and— ( His voice cracks, strained and he breathes out another shaky sound. ) It's been six months since we last saw each other, Rich.
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[Very cold, but it doesn't seem to bother Richie who has shown absolutely no physical signs of being cold. None. He's dirty, caked from head to toe in mud and debris that he didn't want to diagnose. Despite it all, he still manages to look tired. Worn thin at the edges in a way that showed what he'd been through without him being able to remember.]
What? No- Not a chance. Stop fucking with me.
[Six months? That's a lot to quantify and bargain with. Richie could buy a week at the most, but the severity of Eddie's voice is a little too real to be some put-on act.] I mean it. [Please? It's not funny, but he really wants it to be some kind of joke.]
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I'm not lying to you. ( He says quietly, surely but clearly wishing he was lying. ) The cops spun some bullshit story about a mugging gone wrong but I couldn't— I didn't believe them. So I sold all my shit and came up here after they closed the case, I wanted to find you.
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[Richie's trying to figure out why he can't remember half of a year of his life when it occurs to him that Eddie risked his neck in the worst place of their lives to find him. That feeling melts away the doubt and the worry for a minute and his eyes soften. No glasses on his face, and somehow he can see Eddie just fine. The scar on his cheek had healed over, but he looked scrawnier than he remembered - like the worry had taken its toll.
It's natural for him to shift his focus on Eddie instead because that's a lot easier to handle than the unknown.]
Thanks for not giving up on me, man.
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( He smiles at that, unable to help himself and fighting hard to make sure that Richie didn't notice the watery shine in his eyes. Instead, Eddie stands with a bit of a shake and this time actually reaches out to touch Richie and offer his hand. )
You don't have to thank me, Rich. I'd never forgive myself if something happened when we just found each other again. Now, come on, dude— it's cold as shit out here and you're bare ass is shining in the moonlight. Let's get you indoors and in some clothes.
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[Another short joke, it's a whole lot easier than leaning into how vulnerable this all makes him feel. He grabs Eddie's hand, and after giving him another joking leg up they exit what used to be their secret base.
Richie still doesn't feel very cold. Even with the snow still falling into his unkempt hair, some of it sloughs from there to a shoulder and he wipes it away where it falls.]
How far is your car from here?
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( Despite the venom in his voice there is a smile on his lips. Eddie doubts that he'll stop smiling for now because Richie is here and alive and— God, he's not dreaming. This is real. He can't even bring himself to hiss about Richie helpful leg up as they're exiting the old clubhouse.
Still the worry is apparent in his wide eyes as they stand there in the falling snow. He's so caught up in the worry drumming through his heart until Richie's voice breaks through it and he focuses back in. )
Not far from here. You think you'll be okay for a short walk?
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[Because Richie barely managed to run from IT while back in Derry without killing himself. The idea of an Eddie that got up early in the morning to jog brought a smile to his face, all those years of being told he couldn't run, couldn't bike by his mom just to maintain a healthy lifestyle in spite of her years later.
His physical upkeep went south fast after childhood, and now he apparently blacked out and lost half a year. It's a small wonder he made it out of their reunion unscathed.]
I'll be fine. I mean- [Richie casts a sweeping hand out over his general appearance. He's clearly been through worse. What? He couldn't remember, but it still went without saying.] Just warn me if a car is driving by or something so I can duck back into the brush. I don't want anyone thinking Bigfoot's out here in barrens.
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( It's a good distraction as Eddie walks, chopping his hand through the air and huffing cold breaths air out. He still can't help glancing over to Richie with a small frown but ultimately smiling softly as he confirms that he'll be fine. A part of Eddie doesn't believe him but what else can he do?
Thankfully it isn't a long walk from the dark Barrens to an out limit where his car is parked. He moves forward first and looks around before hurrying over to his truck, pulling a blanket free and moving back to Richie. )
Here— cover your ass before it fucking blinds someone. ( Another smile but he leads his friend over to the car, getting in and getting it going. He breathes out a small shudder before turning the heat on. ) Okay, so, I'm gonna drop you off at my place and go get you some shit.
— Clothes, toothbrush, some fucking soap. Anything else you want? Something to eat, maybe?
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[Except that he has in the past month, but doesn't remember it. Richie snatches the blanket and wraps it around himself like a hooded cloak. It feels good to not have the wet snow on him and to have something dry, soft, and that smelled strongly of Italian leather and ... Eddie, around him.
He pulls the overshirt off and holds it out for Eddie to take, not sure what to do with it now that he's covered up and decent.] I'll have you know the only reason my ass would blind someone is that it's too intense. It's like looking at the sun.
[The car and the heat of it make him feel a lot warmer than he's used to and despite not minding the warmth on his lower half he's getting overheated everywhere up north and so he lets the blanket fall off of him in a loose puddle around his waist.]
I dunno. I mean, thanks, for everything but I'm just - I feel out of it, Eds. I just want to take a shower and sleep for another six months. [That wasn't part of it, he's sure, but whatever happened between the last thing he can remember and now makes him nervous, and that sick feeling comes bubbling up worse than before.]
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( It's said lightly and casually with only a simple shrug of his shoulders. It didn't change much after returning from Derry but only because Eddie didn't want to go home to a house without Richie in it which what led him here.
He pulls out of the parking space into the darkness of the roads leading back toward Derry. Although the lights of the small town appear in the horizon, he turns down a dirt road that leads into a small clearing among aspen trees with a small A-frame home occupying the center of the sight. )
No, um— I can't say I get, you know? I think I might have some things you can fit in if you'd rather just me stay tonight and I'll get you some clothes tomorrow? ( Either way, he moves to shut off the car and wait for Richie to follow before he unlocks the door and leads them inside. ) It's not much but it's worked. I've got to clean up the second bedroom since I've been using it as an office so you can sleep upstairs in my room.
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The place Eddie dries up to is off the beaten path and tucked away. Just how he'd imagine Eddie might rent in a town that tortured them both as kids. The air is clear, but at what cost. That's all he can think about when he exits the vehicle and follows him inside. At a loss for words until:]
Hey, no. Where are you gonna sleep?
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I got a couch, Rich and an airbed. I'll be fine and you deserve a chance to sleep somewhere that isn't in the woods, dude.
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[Besides looking like the Live-Action Tarzan, he had no aches and pains. No memory of anything and that was the only thing that did bother him. The unknown, what happened to him out there by Castle Rock and why did he lose so much time?
He knows this could turn into a fighting match, some kind of argument that would last an hour at least so he relents with an uncomfortable sigh.] At least park the air mattress in the same room so I'm not alone. Who knows ... I might go missing again. Maybe ET forgot to leave his number.
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( He breathes out a sigh through his nose but ultimately Eddie nods, itching at his neck and glancing away with a thoughtful look. It only lasts for a moment but he nods and moves toward the storage closet so he can try and remember just where he shoved the fucking air mattress. )
Like the slumber parties we used to have as kids, yeah? Alright, I'll get things set up upstairs and there's a bathroom attached so go take your time, okay? I'll make sure no Reese's Pieces loving aliens come and kidnap you.
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[All things considered, this was the best case of amnesia he's ever experienced.No nasty bumps or contusions, nothing on his head anyway, and no aches and pains he wasn't sure about. Richie knew it would rear its ugly head sooner or later but he didn't want to think about that right now. Not when a hot shower and a warm bed were both calling his name.
Richie got in the shower thinking about the slumber parties they used to have, what he could remember of them and there were nights when Eddie would fall asleep on top of him while they were reading the same book. Those nights were the hardest for him, knowing what he knew about himself, and how sharing it'd probably get them both killed.
The shower only takes about 30 minutes but Richie spends another twenty cleaning up the amount of dirt and crud that came off of him. By the time he's done with unclogging the drain and wiping out the tub, he's too tired to think about shaving or anything else. He settles for a black t-shirt and what looked like a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring because nothing else looked like it'd fit. The sweats ride up a little high, exposing ankle, but otherwise fit fine for going commando. He sinks onto the mattress face first with a groan. What the fuck had he been doing for half of a year?]
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( Eddie can't help offering a small smile before Richie moves upstairs to take a shower. It isn't long before he's found his air mattress and tugs it upstairs, setting everything up and getting his spare sheets and comforter set up. Thankfully, despite the snow outside, his home keeps warm and once he's changed its easy for Eddie for finally relax for the first time in what felt like months.
Still he doesn't feel like he can sleep until Richie is actually out of the shower and back in the room. He's fiddling with his phone when Richie reappears and looks up with a small smile. Okay, yeah, he still looked like some weird Tarzan version of Richie but Eddie can't care because he's here. He's actually here and alive and God did he— )
I really missed you, man. ( He says suddenly and without prompt before a flush of color appears on his cheeks. ) I still can't believe I managed to find you.
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If anyone was gonna find me it'd be you.
[For all he knew, Eddie could've thought he was dead this entire time. Hanging onto the pipe dream that somehow he made it out of whatever it was unscathed. Richie's not so sure he did, all he can remember is a flash across the road, and getting out to see what he hit. It goes dark after that.
Richie rests his cheek against the mattress to get a look at Eddie on the air bed right beside him. Neither bed is exceptionally big but Richie feels like the space between them is too large, all the same. Back in Derry he never got to tell him how he felt. There were some lingering touches, touches that were too heavy and too meaningful to be just friendly but he'd planned to ease into it. Help him with the shit with Moira- oh fuck. Right. Moira. Did he go that alone too?]
Didn't mean to worry you or leave you behind, dude.
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( He doesn't know just how to express his feelings and to admit that he never once thought Richie dead. Eddie ultimately can't say how the others felt especially after everything that had happened to them but at least they hadn't tried to talk Eddie out of this venture. They did what they could while also protecting themselves and, yeah, maybe he should have thought more about himself but—
But there wasn't a life for him without Richie.
That's why he can't help but think that the space between them is too much also. He wants so, so much to reach out and grasp his hand or brush his hair back or just— something. Instead he sits there on the air mattress and simply watches, so happy in the moment but unable to deny the worry lingering in his chest. )
It's okay, Rich. I'm just glad you're here and that I'll wake up tomorrow and you'll still be right here.
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[Richie gives him a fond look, soft in the same eyes that shone against the beam of the flashlight earlier. Looking at Eddie now it's easy to forget waking up in bones, being covered in blood, and that fucking clown. It's easier instead to remember their childhood, what they meant to each other, and what time had forced them to forget.]
I'm not going anywhere. Promise.
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( Because that is ultimately the scariest thing about all of this. Neither of them know just what has happened over these last six months and they might never know but Eddie is certain of one thing— he won't let Richie out of his sight again. It's why he can't help reach over, brushing some of the wild curls out of his friend's face and smiles. )
Go to sleep, Rich. You need the rest, I'm sure and I'll be here so don't worry.
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He holds Eddie's gaze for a while, but it's the last thing he remembers - his eyes, those lashes, the faint ghost of freckles that were bolder when he blushed. Whatever had got him under that house and covered in blood had apparently taken a lot out of him because he falls asleep not long after that and he sleeps well into the afternoon until the memory of those yellow eyes come back and he jumps, waking with a start.]
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That's why it takes a few hours for Eddie to fell comfortable enough to fall asleep. Once he does though the sleep is uneasy and more than once he wakes up with a start. Though once he finds Richie in the darkness of his room then he is able to ease back into a needed, comfortable sleep.
By the time Richie wakes up with a start, Eddie has been awake for hours and working from the airbed on his computer. Needless to say he also jumps, nearly spilling his drink everywhere before moving toward Richie with a concerned (if startled) look on his face. )
Rich, hey Richie, you're okay. ( He reaches for one of his friend's hands and squeezes it. ) I'm here and you're okay, remember?
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I had this nightmare that I went missing for half a year... and I hit something in the road and it, the eyes. [His brows furrow.] I don't know.
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First part was definitely true. I really don't know how much truth exists in the rest of that though but that's all it is, Rich— a nightmare. ( He shifts again and reaches up to gently brush some of Richie's hair from his face. ) You hungry? I figured I could run into town and grab some things for you along with some food. We'll need to cut your hair too.
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They're not hand-me-downs, you piece of shit. ( He murmurs, chuckling that trying not to think to hard about how his lips brush against his friend's skin. ) Come on, we'll go into town and get some things and head back so we can take care of your scratchy face.
( He leans back slightly with that and huffs. ) Because I'm not going to let our first kiss be when you're sitting here looking like some lumberjack.
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Maybe not for you, but they look at least a size and a half too small. It's not cute.
[Richie reaches up and runs his nails through the beard Eddie mentioned with a light shrug. He could use a trim, that wasn't a bad idea.] Best friend turned groomer. Got it.
Our first what now? [They hadn't talked about it, they had come close dozens of times. Richie had reached out and held his hand while lying on the dingy ground in Its lair, and spoken with his eyes instead. That's as intimate as they'd gotten, besides Richie promising to help him button everything up back in New York.]
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It is a little funny though. Sort of reminds me of the summer before school started when you grew so much and your mom couldn't keep up.
( He tilts his head though and smiles softly though there is a notable hint of sadness. )
I want to kiss you, asshole. I should have kissed you at the quarry and the townhouse and in the car before you fucking left. ( He shakes his head feeling overwhelmed, raw but wanting to lay it out. ) I thought about the whole drive to New York. I thought about it while I waited for you to call. I thought about it all night while you slept.
( Eddie can't help letting his gaze drift slightly before he focuses back in on Richie. )
I've been thinking about it since I was 13.
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[Richie was halfway to Bigfoot and he knew it. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror after he showered, and it's the longest his hair has been in his life. The notion though brings a grin to his face, sharp-toothed and wry, the glint of genuine emotion hidden behind his eyes.] You should have. Maybe it would've saved us both some grief.
I've been thinking about that and a whole lot more since I was thirteen, but we can't both be puritans. I wouldn't let a bad hair day stop me either, but here we are.
You know I love you, right?
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( He really was some long lost Bigfoot kin, Eddie was sure but its hard to think about stupid jokes like that when Richie is sitting here in his personal space and smiling. It's really the first smile that Eddie can remember seeing on Richie since their abrupt reunion yesterday. )
Yeah, maybe but when has shit in our lives ever been easy? I remember writing my name but using your last name like some school girl with a crush but I guess I was.
( With a smile, Eddie shakes his head and adjusts on his knee in order to lean in proper. )
I do, yeah and you know that I love you too, right? Jesus, Rich— sometimes I think loving you is the only thing that's kept me going. I couldn't— I wouldn't lose you again and maybe that's selfish but for once I really, really want something so bad that I don't care what anyone tells me.
( Be it locals, the police or even his fucking friends. He wouldn't ever, never give up on Richie. That's why its easy enough to just lean in and capture Richie's lips and pour every single emotion he has felt all his life for this man into it. )
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[Richie remembered everything, when the pining started and when the discomforts of puberty set in but at that point he'd moved from childhood crushes into survival mode. A different kind of surviving, but one that required pedal to the metal in the same fashion.]
Huh. Eddie Tozier? Not sure it has the right ring to it.
[Ring being a triple entendre in this case. He has to make a mental note to ask about Moira, about how all that went without him. He'd made a lot of promises he failed to keep up with. He really raked poor Eddie over the coals by going missing and then losing months of his life. It's hard to believe this is real, here and now.
The big speech, those beautiful eyes. He's not expecting any of it, half of him thinks that this is maybe just heaven. All of his dreams culminate in some bizarre comeback story but no- the kiss is the real deal, and it's enough to make his chest ache.
He slips his hand into Eddie's hair and pushes his lips back into his to return the intention. He wasn't alone in that, in any of it. He should've kissed him at the townhouse, in the tunnels, on the drive to the airport. He was stupid for not doing that. Stupid.]
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Is that a hint at marriage? ( He asks breathless but smiling dumbly, eyes big and bright. ) I mean I just got a divorce but you're worth it, you know. I just wanna stay with you this time. I can't watch you drive away again.
( He lifts up more on his knees, cupping Richie's cheek and letting their noses press together. )
My memories of you— I've been trying to remember all that I can. I'm sure that there's still some missing because fucking space clowns, man but those were some of my best memories. I want to make even more of those memories with you.
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[The kiss leaves him breathless, desperate, almost feral for more but he relents. The events that he can't remember have worn him thin and he feels that under layers of something else, kind of like someone else was wearing his skin or pushing out all the negative from deep within where he'd hidden it.
He still didn't have any memories and with how much time had passed it was cause for concern. He didn't want to focus on any of that, he wanted to focus on the now. Here with Eddie, picking up the broken fragments of what they never got a chance to be.] Maybe we should figure this out first. As much as I wanna ride out into the sunset with you, there's something wrong here. Something that has nothing to do with fuckin' space clowns, but they — those were my best memories too. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You don't have to incentivize to keep me around.
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( Much like Richie, he can't help but want more but he relents by sitting back although Eddie makes sure to keep his hands close to the other man's own as a comforting anchor against the winds of literally everything else. Somewhere in the distant he hears the rumble of thunder, an annoying addition to the snow already falling and reminding him on the thundercloud that has been lingering over them since last night.
There is just so, so, so many questions that still need to be answered and finding Richie was only the tip of the iceberg. It's a fact that makes him duck his head, breathing shakily because God— was he taking advantage of Rich in what is a really fucking vulnerable state for him? )
Yeah, yeah— fuck— I'm sorry, Rich. I'm throwing on all of this on you when you've got six months of missing memories after being fucking kidnapped. Just know that I'm gonna do everything I can, okay? Just let me know what you need and I'll take care of it.
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[Richie stretches his arms out over his head, the jolt from the bad dream all but forgotten. When he does, the blanket falls down around his waist, exposing his bare chest and torso and the scarred and bubbled-up mangled tissue on his back a few centimeters from his spine and just above his hip.]
Don't apologize. I don't care. I just got to kiss the cutest dude in all of ... Derry. Are we still in Derry? Fuck. [He wanted to leave this stupid city so far in the rearview that Maine wouldn't exist to him anymore and now here he was. Stuck in the same fucking place or nearby. His past six months remain a blur of disorientation and distant memories of pain.]
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I'm not cute, dickwad. I'm forty-years-old. ( He says on a laugh but ultimately shakes his head. )
Close enough. We're right outside the city lines, I managed to get this place for cheap and its sort of been my home base while I've been looking for you.