eddie kaspbrak đ (spageds) wrote in evaluation, @ 2019-11-17 09:15:00 |
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Eddie was anxious, which meant Eddie was making lists.1. Check on Richie.He'd gotten the second and third items done by the early afternoon, heart sinking when he realized Billy and Teddy hadn't shown up again. And there was an eight-year-old here, apparently? That was worrying in the extreme. Still, he pushed forward, trying to focus on the things he could control. "Time to find Richie," he muttered under his breath. Eddie layered because he was fucking freezing already, then grabbed a few supplies from his room before leaving. With any luck, his best friend was resting after arriving injured. He'd seen him heading to the clinic earlier, and that had been more than a little horrifying. Eddie had nearly run over before realizing Constantine was with him. The two lookedâwell, rather occupied, so he forced himself to stay put and offered a small wave instead, hoping it conveyed âPlease get yourself looked at and stay safe until I track your ass down again.â2. Check on the kids.3. Update list of kids based upon arrivals/departures.
4. Establish worst case scenarios (i.e. weather, supernatural, etc).5. Find a place to sleep.6. Get the clown bite stitched up.
7. Stockpile based upon #4.
It was weird, trying to find his place among everyone here, and to avoid pushing too much like his mom always did. That involved Gansey's group, who had their own dynamics that didn't include him and he needed to respect, and Richie's group, too, who seemed like good people that could relate to each other. Eddie felt a bit like an outsider, flitting between a bunch of people with no real purpose, but then, that wasn't a new feelingâor even one of his main concerns. He was far more preoccupied with figuring out how he could be useful without being overbearing.
"Hey, asshole," Eddie called, knocking on the door he was fairly certain his friend had chosen to stay in. "Do you need ibuprofen? I have some orange juice, too." He kept half an eye on Reese, the goose he'd brought from the nightmare funhouse, who was eyeing Richie's door like they were planning something. That the goose was wearing a scarf wasn't something he'd comment on. Didn't geese get cold, too? Didn't they migrate? Eddie sighed. One thing at a time.
Richie had only just dozed off. He was tired. His brain was running on five-percent battery, his bones were heavy. Yes, folks - Trashmouth Tozier was too drained, too stressed, probably too thin. Electric blue eyes held barely a spark at all, he was unshaven - that perpetual five o'clock shadow present, dark cactus bristle crawling up along his jaw and cheeks. And he had stitches in his arm, in his side - which meant he couldnât sleep in the position he usually slept in. Thus, he had to make do with facing away from John, since Richie didnât have the heart to wake him and tell him to change position so his bed partner could be the little spoon like he wanted (even though he was taller - yeah, he saw the irony).
Heâd just been barely sleeping, almost afraid to do so because of concern regarding the Deadlights and potential of falling into a psychic hellhole - but he couldnât resist forever. On the cusp of sort of part dream, part flashback he sunk into it; the sound of pedaling bicycles, the chill of ice cream. Earth and loam and the underground, a pair of warm brown eyes, the shape of a face. Then he jolted up when he heard the knock - painkillers, orange juice, what the fuck? Groaning in an undertone, he went to greet his best friend.
âThatâs so sweet, orange juice and drugs,â he said groggily, shutting the door behind him after stepping outside. âDid you pick a room yet? Maybe we can go to yours.â Because if John woke up and saw that goose, itâd be punted to the stratosphere.
"Woah, wait a secondâ" Eddie put up his hands to try and stop Richie from coming out of his room, but that was the problem with his friend being taller. He usually couldn't physically bully him into doing anything. So Eddie just scowled, shooting him a very unamused look. "Take the goods and go back to sleep, dingus. I don't mind just dropping it off." You look like hell, Eddie thought, but didn't say it. Richie had gotten him soup back in the nightmare house, and this was basically the same thing. He wasn't about to force the guy to wander around a motel (and he tried not to think about how unsanitary it was) when he was still recovering.
Having darted away from them, Reese paced, puffed up and eyeing Richie with a look that could curdle milk. Eddie sighed. "You scared them," he muttered, feeling a little hysterical. If he were actually losing his mind and dreaming this entire situation up, would he eventually ... snap out of it? Maybe? That was probably too optimistic.
Shaking his head, he dug into the pockets of his jacket and pulled out the juice and drugs. "Here. Now go stay warm and keep your stitches clean." He'd gotten the whole rundown when he'd visited the clinic earlier for his own stitches, but it wouldn't hurt to reiterate it.
âRelax, asshat, Iâm fine,â Richie chuckled fondly, taking the ibuprofen and the orange juice. He was actually thirsty (understatement - his throat felt like heâd inhaled bone-dry winds, and theyâd crumpled everything to dust), so he unscrewed the cap on the juice bottle and took a long swig. âWhatâs the deal with you and the goose? Is it your kid now?â
He leaned against the outside wall of the building, breathing in the fresh air and observing the fine feathered friend - because what the hell. Yeah, he was sure heâd looked better in his life (Richie, not the bird - the bird looked like it was supposed to) but heâd be alright.
Eddie continued to look very disapproving, but he couldn't exactly force Richie back inside, so he zipped up his jacket further and stuffed his hands into his pockets to stay warm. "Alright, but don't blame me if you feel even worse later." He'd be blaming himself enough for the both of them. That was just how it went.
He frowned, though, at the comment about the goose. Mostly because he was vaguely self-conscious about it. "What the fuck was I supposed to do, abandon them?" Eddie sighed, watching Reese walk in front of the two like they were goose guard duty. It was kind of endearing. Not that he'd admit that. Or think about the fact that he couldn't bear to leave the animal alone in that awful houseâsomething that skirted far too close to home for comfort. Literally.
"What made you keep going?" Eddie asked, not looking at Richie. He thought he knew the answer, since they were all given that choice between two doors (allegedly), but he wanted to hear it from his friend.
It wasnât that cold, was it? Oh, alright, maybe it was. Richie had on a sweater and jeans, typical fall attire, but he hadnât ever spent that particular season in Canada before - it seemed nice though, when the leaves would change color. The air was cold but the trees were on fire. âIâm really okay, I promise,â he assured. âIâll get plenty of sleep tonight.â Or heâd just wait a week before sleeping since that seemed to be the âcorrectâ amount of time before addressing a health issue, huh, Spageds? Quit throwing stones in that glass house, it was bad for the furniture.
âI didnât think geese were solitary animals, thatâs all,â he observed - but who knew, maybe there were other people who brought those damn things from the haunted house. It seemed surprising Eddie would, however - wasnât goose shit a health hazard? Not to mention heâd need to find a nice grassy area for it and a place to drink from. Those feathers were also going to get dirty quick, but ainât his business.
He took another swig from the OJ bottle. âThere are people I donât want to leave,â he said simply. âYou included. Why, what about you?â
Eddie made a noise like he didn't believe Richie, but he let it go. He was aware of the fact that he was being a hypocrite, and he'd admit it, if pressed. "Maybe they'll find other geese around here. At least it's outdoors." Eddie knew of at least two other people who kept their glorified pillow pets, but he didn't know if they'd let them go yet. Reese seemed reluctant to wander too far, and he was all too happy to have something to dote on, so here they were. It wouldn't last, Eddie knew that. Nothing ever did.
He nodded at Richie's answer. "Same," he said, shrugging. "Some of it's cowardiceâI won't lie about that. Mostly the people, though. And making sure you don't do something stupid and get hurt." That last part was a joke, of course, but not really. It didn't quite land the way Eddie had meant it to, his voice wavering slightly and betraying how worried he'd been. Still was. This whole thing was soâunpredictable, and strange, and he didn't trust the sudden reprieve for a single second. Richie had come really fucking close to getting greviously injured, and Eddie had no doubt he'd be in trouble like that again.
It was times like these he half-wished he'd actually caved and taken up smoking.
"I got more of that, if you need it," he said, nodding to the juice. A nice little seguy. No need to linger on the heavy shit when Richie wasn't feeling well. Eddie really loved his mental gymnastics, they were so fun. (Sarcasm, naturally. It was hell but it served its purpose.)
âIâm fine, really,â Richie insisted, but he guessed it didnât matter how many times he said it - Eddie would still worry. Goddamn. So, sure, heâd been tossed into a liquor collection by a headless zombie corpse creature - but he didnât walk into that expecting it to be easy. Theyâd gotten it done, that was the important thing. âIâm not made of glass, you donât need to worry that much,â he added as he put his arms around the guy and gave him a reassuring squeeze. See, perfectly fine - he was walking, talking, breathing, making stupid jokes. The stitches would dissolve and heâd be as good as new.
You get injured, you get up and keep going - he wasnât going to sit here whining about it, since whatâs done is done and all that shit.
Motioning for Eddie to wait for a second, he went back inside and dropped off the booty his best friend brought - exchanging it for cigarettes and a lighter. âHere, just have one,â he offered the pack when he returned, door shut snugly behind him. âSo youâve made a lot of friends here, huh?â It seemed that way, and he was glad for Eddie.
Eddie appreciated the hug. He was careful not to hurt Richie, though, uncertain where all his stitches were. So he returned the embrace very gently, and let go the moment his friend did, stuffing his hands back into his pockets and curling his fingers as if to preserve that warmth. "It's not about what you're capable of, it's about what this place is," he insisted after, but they both knew Eddie would worry the same amount regardless. Still. It was the principle of the thing.
Confused when his friend disappeared inside again, he waited, glancing at Reese when the goose darted over to circle him a few times. "What the hell," he said. Not that he expected the animal to answer, although that wouldn't be very surprising all things considered. Reese honked at himâloudlyâbefore hurrying away again with a flap of wings when Richie returned.
With cigarettes.
"Oh, no," Eddie said, gesticulating wildly at his friend. "I do not want lung cancer. Or another round of the flu. I can't risk it." He'd ask what happened to Richie trying to quit the habit, but honestly, he didn't feel like it was his place to lecture anymore. Not about everything.
He did, however, pause at the mention of his new friends, eyeing Richie for a moment. It was a look that usually meant Eddie was having an internal debate about something. "It's mostly Gansey's people. They keep multiplying." Another pause. "Look, ifâsomething bad happens, talk to him. He has my list of all the kids I've been keeping track of, and he's really good at organizing. They know I trust you, so they'll trust you, too." He'd said as much to them. And since they didn't know what might happen in a place like this, he'd feel better knowing Richie could help if the kids needed.
Gee, that sounded like...the absolute last thing Richie would want to do (involve himself in that Gansey kidâs matters, that is) but he would agree. For Eddie. Because heâd do just about anything for Eddie, and that was a fact.
He also didnât know the other kids, but whatever - he was kind of a softie when it came to the young folks anyway, so. Hopefully they wouldnât think he was too uncool for school.
âI promise,â he said, hand on Eddieâs shoulder to give it a squeeze in punctuation. âThatâs if something bad happens. Doesnât hurt to plan for the worst but I can still hope for the best.â
And there it went - that bleached white paper, factory-rolled vice was procured, which he gladly lit up with a flick of the lighter. Ahh, the satisfying first puff. Soon, Richie would quit - soon. Maybe. Probably. In his defense, he had been rationing back at the house? But now that they were in a town where you could buy these things, well, he couldnât resist. âYou and the goose are actually kind of cute together,â he smirked, and just - heâd never admit he really said that.
"Thank you," Eddie said, his shoulders sagging in relief. It had been weighing on him for a while, but knowing Richie would at least check on the other young people if he wasn't around to do it helped immensely. "You can be optimistic enough for the both of us. I told you I'm doing this for Bill." He was telling himself that, anyway. It was much easier using their friend and fellow Loser as an excuseâbecause Bill wasn't here, and it didn't seem like he would ever be, but Eddie could believe he was bound to their oath before he ever believed he was capable of immense bravery and compassion.
Eddie turned away slightly on instinct when Richie lit a cigarette. Old habits. It was familiar, though, as was his friend's teasing, which predictably earned him a very colorful, "Oh, fuck off!" Said goose was sitting on the hood of a parked car now, apparently attempting to soak up what sun they could. "Reese is a badass. They'll smack you. I'm not even kidding." It was probably better than having a dog, even. At least he'd be woken up by furious honking if someone tried anything.
Doing this for Bill? Yeah, okay. Richie didnât believe that for a second - it also sounded stupid as fuck, especially when he knew exactly how brave Eddie truly was. All his life heâd been told he was fragile and delicate, and so while Richie didnât blame him for having that self-doubt, heâd be damned if he just went along with it.
He always had and always would think the world of Eddie - nothing was going to change that. Not even death would change that.
âCoupleâa badassess we got over here,â he glanced at the stupid goose, then back at Eddie, knocking ashes off his cigarette. âYou doing okay otherwise? This at least seems a little better than where we were before.â
Eddie knew Richie believed in him. He'd always known that, mostly because his best friend never let him forget it. Even before they all descended into hell that first time and climbed into the sewers to face a primordial evil, he'd seen something in Eddie that Eddie could never quite see in himself. It wasâcomforting, even if he'd always wonder what preserved Richie's good opinion of him all these years. He knew him better than anyone else. How could he still think so highly of him?
He blew out a breath. "I'll give older me credit for that," he conceded reluctantly. It was mostly to honor his memory, and his connection to Richie. That, he'd respect. Even if he didn't quite look at his friend when he said it. "I'm ... dealing," Eddie answered carefully, crossing his arms now. "Today's been okay. It's kind of tough to predict. You know, triggers and shit." He eyed the ground critically for a moment. "I don't actually like it here. It reminds me too much of home." The fact that they'd been trapped in an old haunted house only to spill out into a small town made Eddie very, very uneasy, but he didn't say that. It might make him sound more paranoid than he usually was.
"What about you?" He glanced at Richie then, curious.
âYeah, that - makes sense.â Small towns were nice and all, but Richie understood the fear. Derry had been small also, quaint and historic - with a darkness bubbling, simmering beneath. It was some kind of caul of evil, and it had been that way for generations. Until, finally, the remaining Losers put a stop to it - at a high price.
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, away from Eddieâs face - just call him Mr. Politeness. âWell, Iâll take it over the murder house, so. Weâll see what happens. I mean, itâs all connected, right? Like you said before. It wonât end with this, whatever weâre supposed to do here. So Iâll keep going until maybe we get some answers.â
Besides, the door marked âexitâ? Who the fuck knew where that really went. Presumably back to their lives before all of this, but it was a gamble he wasnât willing to take yet.
Eddie turned that over in his head, knowing Richie would be staying involved in all this for the foreseeable future. It certainly made him want to stay, too, but he had other reasons, like they'd discussedâcowardice, not wanting to die quite yet; concern, for their new friends and the children; curiosity, at least somewhat. "I might stay for a while, too," he replied at length. "Maybe ... the person doing this is trapped like we are. And we're helping them." Eddie only half-believed that, but if Richie was being vaguely optimistic, he couldn't help but feel the same.
Briefly, anyway. He glanced at his best friend again with another one of his Looks. "Alright, Losers Club meeting adjourned. Get your ass back into bed, Tozier. I'll check in later." Eddie needed to finish his list, after all, and Richie needed to sleep. He'd hassle him about the cigarettes another time.