[his immediate thought is, 'oh, fuck off. every second person i've spoken to here is a friend of dorothy.'
but it's a blessing that eddie is covering his mouth again, and distracting him with a pinch, because it gives richie time enough to realise that maybe he shouldn't shit-talk about this. that maybe eddie deserves better than that from him. he knows how scary it can be, and it's not like richie doesn't still frequently feel the same, when the dark and a flimsy sense of privacy aren't boosting his courage.
so he gently tugs eddie's hand away. richie avoids his eyes, staring at the roof of the tent instead.]
( eddie frowns at the side of richie's face. there's a whole lot he wants to say, naturally, but the words are so big eddie doesn't quite know how to get out of his throat. so he stops trying to pinch, tampers down that instinct to be loud and lash out and instead rubs his thumb over the spot, holding onto richie's wrist loosely.
when he speaks again, his voice is very quiet. this is just for them, just for richie, for so many reasons. )
I'm not ashamed. Not of you. Okay? It's not that, it's just...y'know. But it's not you. Okay?
[he didn't even understand what he was pissed off about until Eddie voiced it between them, calming the worries he couldn't even put words to, and that makes his heart do gross, twisty things. Richie still can't look at him, but he nods a little and tangles their feet together.]
Yeah, obviously. Who would be ashamed of dating a stud like me?
[then quieter, matching Eddie:]
Um, but I get it. I really- yeah. Me too, sometimes. Y'know.
( eddie's gaining traction now, which means he has to lower his voice further and lean in closer to counteract the somewhat frantic whispering he's doing. and yes, his face is hot but it's dark and richie can't see anyway, so it doesn't matter.
it's just, richie's been so good lately, and eddie's just been miserable. and now there's this thing that they never really talk about, and it would be so easy to just brush past it too – but richie's been good, better than eddie deserves as far as he's concerned, and he sure as hell deserves something in return. so eddie drops his wrist, grabbing hold of his fingers instead and kind of harshly lacing them together. a very violent hand hold. )
Me and you, this thing it's– it's not Derry. And I know it feels like Bowers is gonna jump out of a corner and call us– call us queers, but even if he did I wouldn't care, I'd just spit in his face and tell him to go crawl back to the sewers with that rotten fuckin' clown. Okay? Don't be sad, Rich. You're better than that whole fucking town, I'm serious. I don't– I want to tell everyone. You know that right? I do.
[Richie snorts, raising an eyebrow, but something in his gut knows better than to argue with Eddie when he sounds like that. like he really means it.]
Okay.
[Eddie does this a lot, he's noticed. he's never thought about it too hard before, because there wasn't much to examine beyond thinking that it's nice and Richie likes holding his hand.
now he thinks about it. about how Eddie initiates this most of the time, just like he does everything else. about how Eddie is reassuring him and his stupid fears that Eddie could be ashamed of him, that he is something shameful, when he's never been as brave as Eddie about his feelings in the first place. when if anyone has a right to worry, it should be Eddie, dealing with a boyfriend who could only call himself as much over text.
he knows that everything Eddie is saying, he means. it fills him with a fiery sort of courage, to hear those words and know with confidence that for the person saying them, at least, they are the truth.
in the dark and without his glasses, it's difficult to even make out Eddie's face, but Richie leans close, their heads bowed together, and hesitates a second before he whispers back, grinning.]
Better than Derry isn't a high bar to set, Spaghetti.
[not what he wanted to say. one more time, then:]
I mean, I was being stupid about it, and I'm glad you said it, but I- yeah. I believe you.
Also I just- I couldn't ever talk about something like this, you know, so it's weird to do it now- but I want to. Because you deserve to hear that stuff and know that I mean it too. You're more important to me than caring about what someone else thinks. You're more important than- ['anything', is what almost slips out.] all of that junk.
Anyway, I'd pay money to see you spit in Bowers' face.
( there's a lot that eddie still feels shame over, even as he tries to remind himself he shouldn't. even if pennywise the homophobic clown hadn't been out there twisting people into poisonous caricatures, they still lived in derry. and even if derry hadn't been filled with people ready to, eddie still lived with sonia kaspbrak. his mother has had him afraid of AIDs since the news broke across america. eddie had still been five, the first time his mother had shaken a copy of the new york times in his face and insisted her eddie would never be one of those sick, dirty boys.
but there's nothing dirty about the way that richie smiles when eddie takes his hand. there's nothing sick about the way eddie feels his entire chest lifts and eases just by looking at him. there's nothing wrong with them, there's nothing wrong with them, there's nothing wrong with them. sometimes he has to say it so many times before he believes it, but around richie he knows it's true. )
Exactly. Exactly. I don't want to give a shit about what everyone else thinks, I don't. I want to fucking scream it in the face of every nasty fuckin' prick that ever had something to say. ( easy to say here, about as far removed from derry as they could possibly get, but eddie wants to mean it and surely that's what counts in the end. )
I'm fucking– you mean so much to me. I'm not even joking, I'd do it right now. Who gives a shit about Bowers? That stupid clown didn't kill me, what's he going to do? We woke up here and we're fine. We're good.
( his throat dry from whispering, it clicks as he swallows and he reaches out clumsily with his other hand until he finds richie's cheek and he can pat at it gently. rub his thumb right over richie's cheekbone and give him a watery smile that he's pretty sure richie can't even see. )
If we wake up in Derry tomorrow, I'll still think you're the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me, Rich.
you're the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me, Rich.
he wasn't supposed to ever hear stuff like this for real. he didn't think he ever would, anyway. and not from Eddie. but Eddie's saying them all the same, touching his face in a way Richie could dare to call loving, and smiling sure enough that he doesn't need glasses to see it.
he doesn't want to think about going back, or about what it felt like to watch a monster play with Eddie's life. he doesn't want to think about losing this place, or about how it's falling apart around them.
normally, he would give them both something to laugh at instead. and that's alright, most of the time. but Eddie deserves more than a laugh when he's giving so much more than that. Richie just said so himself. he turns his head blindly, so that his lips brush Eddie's fingers, not quite a kiss.]
I don't care if we wake up on Mars, so long as you're there.
[it's no joke, but Richie laughs anyway, watery eyed and surprised at himself.]
You've always mattered more than anything else, Eds.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
but it's a blessing that eddie is covering his mouth again, and distracting him with a pinch, because it gives richie time enough to realise that maybe he shouldn't shit-talk about this. that maybe eddie deserves better than that from him. he knows how scary it can be, and it's not like richie doesn't still frequently feel the same, when the dark and a flimsy sense of privacy aren't boosting his courage.
so he gently tugs eddie's hand away. richie avoids his eyes, staring at the roof of the tent instead.]
We're okay here. I think.
no subject
( eddie frowns at the side of richie's face. there's a whole lot he wants to say, naturally, but the words are so big eddie doesn't quite know how to get out of his throat. so he stops trying to pinch, tampers down that instinct to be loud and lash out and instead rubs his thumb over the spot, holding onto richie's wrist loosely.
when he speaks again, his voice is very quiet. this is just for them, just for richie, for so many reasons. )
I'm not ashamed. Not of you. Okay? It's not that, it's just...y'know. But it's not you. Okay?
no subject
Yeah, obviously. Who would be ashamed of dating a stud like me?
[then quieter, matching Eddie:]
Um, but I get it. I really- yeah. Me too, sometimes. Y'know.
no subject
( eddie's gaining traction now, which means he has to lower his voice further and lean in closer to counteract the somewhat frantic whispering he's doing. and yes, his face is hot but it's dark and richie can't see anyway, so it doesn't matter.
it's just, richie's been so good lately, and eddie's just been miserable. and now there's this thing that they never really talk about, and it would be so easy to just brush past it too – but richie's been good, better than eddie deserves as far as he's concerned, and he sure as hell deserves something in return. so eddie drops his wrist, grabbing hold of his fingers instead and kind of harshly lacing them together. a very violent hand hold. )
Me and you, this thing it's– it's not Derry. And I know it feels like Bowers is gonna jump out of a corner and call us– call us queers, but even if he did I wouldn't care, I'd just spit in his face and tell him to go crawl back to the sewers with that rotten fuckin' clown. Okay? Don't be sad, Rich. You're better than that whole fucking town, I'm serious. I don't– I want to tell everyone. You know that right? I do.
no subject
Okay.
[Eddie does this a lot, he's noticed. he's never thought about it too hard before, because there wasn't much to examine beyond thinking that it's nice and Richie likes holding his hand.
now he thinks about it. about how Eddie initiates this most of the time, just like he does everything else. about how Eddie is reassuring him and his stupid fears that Eddie could be ashamed of him, that he is something shameful, when he's never been as brave as Eddie about his feelings in the first place. when if anyone has a right to worry, it should be Eddie, dealing with a boyfriend who could only call himself as much over text.
he knows that everything Eddie is saying, he means. it fills him with a fiery sort of courage, to hear those words and know with confidence that for the person saying them, at least, they are the truth.
in the dark and without his glasses, it's difficult to even make out Eddie's face, but Richie leans close, their heads bowed together, and hesitates a second before he whispers back, grinning.]
Better than Derry isn't a high bar to set, Spaghetti.
[not what he wanted to say. one more time, then:]
I mean, I was being stupid about it, and I'm glad you said it, but I- yeah. I believe you.
Also I just- I couldn't ever talk about something like this, you know, so it's weird to do it now- but I want to. Because you deserve to hear that stuff and know that I mean it too. You're more important to me than caring about what someone else thinks. You're more important than- ['anything', is what almost slips out.] all of that junk.
Anyway, I'd pay money to see you spit in Bowers' face.
no subject
but there's nothing dirty about the way that richie smiles when eddie takes his hand. there's nothing sick about the way eddie feels his entire chest lifts and eases just by looking at him. there's nothing wrong with them, there's nothing wrong with them, there's nothing wrong with them. sometimes he has to say it so many times before he believes it, but around richie he knows it's true. )
Exactly. Exactly. I don't want to give a shit about what everyone else thinks, I don't. I want to fucking scream it in the face of every nasty fuckin' prick that ever had something to say. ( easy to say here, about as far removed from derry as they could possibly get, but eddie wants to mean it and surely that's what counts in the end. )
I'm fucking– you mean so much to me. I'm not even joking, I'd do it right now. Who gives a shit about Bowers? That stupid clown didn't kill me, what's he going to do? We woke up here and we're fine. We're good.
( his throat dry from whispering, it clicks as he swallows and he reaches out clumsily with his other hand until he finds richie's cheek and he can pat at it gently. rub his thumb right over richie's cheekbone and give him a watery smile that he's pretty sure richie can't even see. )
If we wake up in Derry tomorrow, I'll still think you're the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me, Rich.
no subject
you're the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me, Rich.
he wasn't supposed to ever hear stuff like this for real. he didn't think he ever would, anyway. and not from Eddie. but Eddie's saying them all the same, touching his face in a way Richie could dare to call loving, and smiling sure enough that he doesn't need glasses to see it.
he doesn't want to think about going back, or about what it felt like to watch a monster play with Eddie's life. he doesn't want to think about losing this place, or about how it's falling apart around them.
normally, he would give them both something to laugh at instead. and that's alright, most of the time. but Eddie deserves more than a laugh when he's giving so much more than that. Richie just said so himself. he turns his head blindly, so that his lips brush Eddie's fingers, not quite a kiss.]
I don't care if we wake up on Mars, so long as you're there.
[it's no joke, but Richie laughs anyway, watery eyed and surprised at himself.]
You've always mattered more than anything else, Eds.