Hey-- [ This isn't what he meant to do. Certainly not on purpose, but Eddie has started wailing, and panic latches onto Richie just like when he first woke up. The bad part is that he did it, too, he said it, and--
--no. The bad part is that Richie still thinks he's right, and that nauseous feeling creeps into things again, takes over his body for a brief moment that he doesn't move.
Fuck. Fuck! What the hell would Bill do? Or Ben? Good job, trashmouth! Good job, idiot! You've made your best friend cry! Good fucking job, specs! Good job, loser! ]
Hey--
[ He doesn't want to lie to Eddie, either. He takes the other's arm, trying to gently pry him to at least look at him. He forces a smile, even if it just looks pained. ]
We--we can fix this, right? You said it yourself, this--we don't want to be violent. That's what separates us. We were the bad guys, but now we're not, and now we can work on--we can work on, uh--we can work on fixing it.
[ His face is flushed, gaze wild instead of trying to be calming. ]
Like repent or something.
[ It's Stan they need, he realizes. Stan would be the right Loser for this situation. But it's just them. ]
We survived a fucking clown in the sewer, we can survive feeling like this.
(That is the bad part. Richie is right. Eddie certainly wasn't about to say that what they did was okay, because it wasn't. They weren't Bowers and his gang. They never got off on hurting animals and beating up small kids. Murder was wrong, even if it was out of their control, and Eddie knows it.
Just hearing it said from Richie sucked. It sucked a whole lot. That and Eddie had one hell of a fear of eternal damnation. He'd been nursing on that concept for well over a year now, even before they fought Pennywise, but oh boy was it sinking in irreversibly now.
He does at least pick his head up to look at Richie. There were two Losers who could effectively pry Eddie out of himself and that would be Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier. His head hangs there, and the wails stop, but the tears keep going.
Eddie shrugs slowly, looking down.)
I've always known I was probably gonna like, roast up in Hell, you know? But this basically secured a one-way ticket to the big man's torture chamber.
(Might as well admit it, right? Eddie isn't so sure you could scrub the stain of murder out of your soul through repenting. And his soul was already pretty messed up.)
I guess.
(Eddie doesn't sound so sure, and he's still crying, but at least he's not so hysterical anymore. He rubs at his face, his head already throbbing from crying so much.
Eddie didn't know if a certain Loser could fix this. Hell, he wasn't even sure what Bill would say or do. None of the Losers were for murder. Except maybe if they accidentally killed Bowers, but that was different. That would be self-defense.)
I'm sorry. (One can practically see Eddie pulling himself together. He shifts up to his knees and rubs his hands at his face.) Don't mean to be such a crybaby.
(He mutters the word 'crybaby' like it's a swear word. He grabs hold of the zipper on his fanny pack, the black one that had 'What Are We Going to Do With All This FUTURE' scrawled in print over the front. He digs his hand in and pulls out his Xanax. He knocks out a pill and puts the bottle away. He tucks the pill into his mouth and chews it slowly, knowing it works a little faster that way.)
You're right. All we really can do is repent. Maybe I can't do shit all to change God's mind, but I don't know if I care anymore. (He does, but he's wondering if maybe he shouldn't focus more on the Here and Now.) I think all I really want is for those people to know we never really wanted to hurt them.
[ Richie listens attentively, not once picking at his clothes or fidgeting and his leg doesn't even start bouncing up and down, not once--that's because Eddie needs him to listen, so he'll listen, even if he still has to stare off into the corner of the room as he does so. Eddie crying, even if it's less than it had been before, but it's still a lot.
He's eating those weird pills, too, and that's just second nature, he figures, because that's just Eddie. In a weird way that gives him sort sort of sense of normalcy: Richie will be loud and say something stupid, and Eddie will dope himself up. That doesn't mean it's enough, but it's a start, and Richie does the only thing he can think of and move forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie's smaller frame.
He has to think of something, he has to say something-- ]
We will. [ It's still not enough. He stays like that, just holding his best friend, and decides not to wait until he can find the perfect phrase to cheer him up. He just says the first thing on his mind: ]
Hey--hey, if you go to hell, I'll be there, too. We can have a rock war with satan.
(The fact that Richie Tozier was sitting completely still and being quiet spoke volumes. Volumes that were loud enough to help begin to water down all of that panic screaming in Eddie's head. It makes Eddie begin to steady out, even without the Xanax kicking in. He stares back at Richie, taking in a few slow, deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Your lungs work just fine, Eds. It's a ghost of Richie's voice, working into one ear and out the other, even with the real Richie right in front of him.
He's gonna be okay. They both will be. Like Richie had said, they had been through worse before. Now they just had to get over feeling like this.
Eddie doesn't really know why he doesn't expect the hug. In retrospect, it's obvious that Richie would hug him after a bad breakdown like that. Any of the Losers would. But after everything from before, Eddie sometimes still didn't really expect his best friend to do this kind of thing anymore.
So when it happens, Eddie makes a keen noise of surprise, his body tensing up for all of a split second. But he's in desperate need of comfort, and Richie was the kinda medicine that they just didn't bottle up. His arms automatically lock around Richie and he's hugging back just as tightly. It's been a long, long time since Richie held onto him like this and Eddie's only tense through it for about a second before he just lets it happen.
His body sinks into it and he rests his face against Richie's shoulder. Thank God, thank God, I don't deserve this but thank you God-
Then, just as unexpected as the hug was, the statement Richie says after? It's so shocking to Eddie that he doesn't respond right away. But then he starts shaking, and at first it'd be pretty easy to figure the kid was having another break down, but then the giggling starts pouring out of him until he's full on cracking up against Richie.)
Jesus fuck, Richie! (He picks his head up and leans back just enough to look at his best friend, flushed in the face from crying and laughing so hard. Richie said a whole lot of stupid shit on a regular basis, but Eddie was always his number one supporter and he really did think this kid was gonna make it big one day. How could he fucking not with lines like that? Eddie shouldn't even be laughing so hard, but there he was, getting a cramp in his side because he couldn't stop. His face drops back against Richie's shoulder and affection crackled throughout his entire chest. Jesus, he really did love this kid.)
Fuck you, I'm trying to despair here in peace and you just-. Oh my God! (Make it completely better, is what he's trying to say.
It wasn't perfect, but Eddie felt like some of that heavy weight had already been chipped away from him.
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no subject
--no. The bad part is that Richie still thinks he's right, and that nauseous feeling creeps into things again, takes over his body for a brief moment that he doesn't move.
Fuck. Fuck! What the hell would Bill do? Or Ben? Good job, trashmouth! Good job, idiot! You've made your best friend cry! Good fucking job, specs! Good job, loser! ]
Hey--
[ He doesn't want to lie to Eddie, either. He takes the other's arm, trying to gently pry him to at least look at him. He forces a smile, even if it just looks pained. ]
We--we can fix this, right? You said it yourself, this--we don't want to be violent. That's what separates us. We were the bad guys, but now we're not, and now we can work on--we can work on, uh--we can work on fixing it.
[ His face is flushed, gaze wild instead of trying to be calming. ]
Like repent or something.
[ It's Stan they need, he realizes. Stan would be the right Loser for this situation. But it's just them. ]
We survived a fucking clown in the sewer, we can survive feeling like this.
no subject
Just hearing it said from Richie sucked. It sucked a whole lot. That and Eddie had one hell of a fear of eternal damnation. He'd been nursing on that concept for well over a year now, even before they fought Pennywise, but oh boy was it sinking in irreversibly now.
He does at least pick his head up to look at Richie. There were two Losers who could effectively pry Eddie out of himself and that would be Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier. His head hangs there, and the wails stop, but the tears keep going.
Eddie shrugs slowly, looking down.)
I've always known I was probably gonna like, roast up in Hell, you know? But this basically secured a one-way ticket to the big man's torture chamber.
(Might as well admit it, right? Eddie isn't so sure you could scrub the stain of murder out of your soul through repenting. And his soul was already pretty messed up.)
I guess.
(Eddie doesn't sound so sure, and he's still crying, but at least he's not so hysterical anymore. He rubs at his face, his head already throbbing from crying so much.
Eddie didn't know if a certain Loser could fix this. Hell, he wasn't even sure what Bill would say or do. None of the Losers were for murder. Except maybe if they accidentally killed Bowers, but that was different. That would be self-defense.)
I'm sorry. (One can practically see Eddie pulling himself together. He shifts up to his knees and rubs his hands at his face.) Don't mean to be such a crybaby.
(He mutters the word 'crybaby' like it's a swear word. He grabs hold of the zipper on his fanny pack, the black one that had 'What Are We Going to Do With All This FUTURE' scrawled in print over the front. He digs his hand in and pulls out his Xanax. He knocks out a pill and puts the bottle away. He tucks the pill into his mouth and chews it slowly, knowing it works a little faster that way.)
You're right. All we really can do is repent. Maybe I can't do shit all to change God's mind, but I don't know if I care anymore. (He does, but he's wondering if maybe he shouldn't focus more on the Here and Now.) I think all I really want is for those people to know we never really wanted to hurt them.
no subject
He's eating those weird pills, too, and that's just second nature, he figures, because that's just Eddie. In a weird way that gives him sort sort of sense of normalcy: Richie will be loud and say something stupid, and Eddie will dope himself up. That doesn't mean it's enough, but it's a start, and Richie does the only thing he can think of and move forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie's smaller frame.
He has to think of something, he has to say something-- ]
We will. [ It's still not enough. He stays like that, just holding his best friend, and decides not to wait until he can find the perfect phrase to cheer him up. He just says the first thing on his mind: ]
Hey--hey, if you go to hell, I'll be there, too. We can have a rock war with satan.
no subject
He's gonna be okay. They both will be. Like Richie had said, they had been through worse before. Now they just had to get over feeling like this.
Eddie doesn't really know why he doesn't expect the hug. In retrospect, it's obvious that Richie would hug him after a bad breakdown like that. Any of the Losers would. But after everything from before, Eddie sometimes still didn't really expect his best friend to do this kind of thing anymore.
So when it happens, Eddie makes a keen noise of surprise, his body tensing up for all of a split second. But he's in desperate need of comfort, and Richie was the kinda medicine that they just didn't bottle up. His arms automatically lock around Richie and he's hugging back just as tightly. It's been a long, long time since Richie held onto him like this and Eddie's only tense through it for about a second before he just lets it happen.
His body sinks into it and he rests his face against Richie's shoulder. Thank God, thank God, I don't deserve this but thank you God-
Then, just as unexpected as the hug was, the statement Richie says after? It's so shocking to Eddie that he doesn't respond right away. But then he starts shaking, and at first it'd be pretty easy to figure the kid was having another break down, but then the giggling starts pouring out of him until he's full on cracking up against Richie.)
Jesus fuck, Richie! (He picks his head up and leans back just enough to look at his best friend, flushed in the face from crying and laughing so hard. Richie said a whole lot of stupid shit on a regular basis, but Eddie was always his number one supporter and he really did think this kid was gonna make it big one day. How could he fucking not with lines like that? Eddie shouldn't even be laughing so hard, but there he was, getting a cramp in his side because he couldn't stop. His face drops back against Richie's shoulder and affection crackled throughout his entire chest. Jesus, he really did love this kid.)
Fuck you, I'm trying to despair here in peace and you just-. Oh my God! (Make it completely better, is what he's trying to say.
It wasn't perfect, but Eddie felt like some of that heavy weight had already been chipped away from him.
Yeah, they definitely would be okay.)