ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ, ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (trashing) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-12-13 10:42:00 |
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So like, Richie was pretty sure that Sasha lost her mind. He didn’t claim to be the most emotionally mature person in the world (ha, that was a laugh) but maybe he was getting there, and having Enola to look after sort of helped with that too - he wanted to be a decent influence, and a decent provider so she didn’t have to take to the streets or whatever. He also was trying to grieve for Eddie, for Stan, and sort out his feelings about Eddie while attempting to date Max - lately, he’d sort of realized that, yes, he would miss Eddie forever. But it was more about what could have been, rather than what actually was - and while he liked Max a lot, the idea of marrying him after a couple of dates was enough to send thrills and chills of the why the fuck would I do that variety up and down Richie’s spine. Maybe Sasha was still emotionally compromised? He didn’t know. He also didn’t know what the shit had been going on with that (no one was offering up details or explanations which - kinda crap, though maybe it was just a Vallo thing) but he was over it, and just wanted his friends to be okay. She was one of them and he was downright concerned - so he got some popcorn and cranberries together, tins of them, and supplies to string the two things together, heading over to Sasha’s apartment. Garland was something he used to make when he was a kid, a task to keep his hands busy and something his mom had him do to get him out of her hair - but still, he’d grown to like it over the years. It was very festive, and sometimes he’d hang cinnamon sticks from the garland too, for extra flair. And an extra warm, comforting spicy holiday scent. Arriving at her place, he had his hands full so he knocked with his foot. Hello, Avon calling. Dean had just left her flat no more than an hour before Richie’s arrival and she’d managed to actually shower and put on something that resembled decent clothes in that time (joggers and a sweatshirt, at least). She finished pulling her hair up and slipping her glasses back onto her face as she walked to the door, unlocking it and opening it. “Oh! That’s a lot more stuff than I was expecting.” She reached out to help him by taking whatever she could to lighten the load, albeit briefly, before closing the door behind him as he made his way inside. Once the items were placed down on the kitchen table, she looked over at Richie with a sheepish sort of expression. “Hi.” She was bracing herself for the look he was undoubtedly going to give her, or the ‘what the fuck are you thinking?’ question. Not that she wouldn’t deserve it after eloping with someone she’d only been vaguely seeing for a month. Nervously she began fidgeting with the ring on her finger, twisting it a little before she realized what she was doing and slid her hands into the pockets of her joggers instead. “Can I get you something to drink?” “Uh - “ Richie hadn’t brought any tequila, otherwise he would have suggested margaritas. Or, no, wait - he would have suggested drinking that golden ambrosia straight from the bottle because this definitely seemed to be that kind of situation. “Tea’s fine? Or water. Whatever you have.” He didn’t want to put Sasha out or anything. He opened the tins of popcorn and cranberries - it was popcorn that was good for eating but also good for stringing; with him he also had fishing line (it was strong enough to pierce the cranberries and popcorn without requiring a needle). Then he sat at the kitchen table, getting started with cutting the fishing line - they could each do a section and then tie them together. But obviously there were more important things to talk about while keeping their hands busy. Like Sasha’s impromptu marriage, clearly. “You okay?” he asked, a poke of brows upward over the frames of thick glasses. “This is...a lot. But you know - floor’s open. If you wanna talk about it.” Tea would be good. Not that the tea here was all that great by her standards, but she knew that was just the Englishwoman in her being particular. She’d grown a bit more used to it the longer she stayed in Vallo, anyway. She nodded and moved to put the kettle on, making sure it was full of water before setting it on the stove top. Once there was a fire going under the kettle, she turned and looked at him, watching as he unpacked their supplies for garland making. She’d always wanted to learn how to make popcorn garland given how much she loved the holidays, but she just never had. First time for everything. “Hm?” she voiced, snapping out of her thoughts and shifting her eyes up to his face. “Yeah, I am. Weirdly. I probably shouldn’t be given the circumstances but I’m… kind of okay with it?” “Like this - “ Richie showed her how to poke the end of the fishing line (heh, poke) into the tiny, very breakable piece of popcorn without cracking it into dust. It took a little bit of concentration and steady hands, but Sasha would get the hang of it. He used his other hand to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, fingers returning to stringing and doing one after the other - popcorn, then a cranberry, popcorn, then a cranberry. The popcorn was nice and air-popped as well, as opposed to greasy and oily - that kind didn’t work for garland. “Okay, but - why? Are you okay with it, I mean,” he continued. “I get being lonely - “ Trust him, he did. For years and years he had this sharp sense of loneliness nipping at his heels, empty spaces that IT had clawed out inside of them all to claim the Losers even when they left Derry - but still. He’d filled those spaces with drugs and alcohol, and sex, and pretending to be something he wasn’t. Big fucking surprise, it hadn’t worked. “It’s just that marrying this guy is...well, there’s like a lot to work out?” Where would they live - in Sasha’s apartment? Would Dean leave his family? Would they get a joint bank account or keep their finances separate? Dumb, adult, married people issues like that - it wasn’t all starry eyes and two hearts beating as one. Even Richie knew that. He knew marriage was hard. Plus the fact that they both had done this while some Weirdness was going around Vallo - it didn’t sit right. Sasha moved to settle at the kitchen table and watched him string popcorn, cranberry, popcorn, cranberry, repeat before reaching for her own strand to start trying to follow his lead. This was harder than he made it look, but she focused her eyes on her work as she talked. “I don’t know why I feel okay with it. I just do. I was a little embarrassed when I woke up and realized, but that was it, because I remembered how everything went yesterday and yes, it was rushed and a lot, but…” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a bit of a shrug, glancing up at Richie over the rim of her own glasses before looking back down at what she was doing. “I’m sure there is a lot to work out, but I also don’t… I don’t know. Like. Neither of us were in an immediate rush to annul it though we talked about it and I’m just kind of leaving it up to him what we should ultimately do because I think I’m already in a bit deeper than he is, despite everything that happened this week, but I’m aware of that, you know?” Right. So they had both lost their minds. Good to know. “What if he does want to annul it?” Richie asked. “If you’re in deeper than he is - like, are you gonna be upset about it?” Jesus. He felt like he’d failed her. What was the point of having stupid Deadlights-induced psychic powers if he couldn’t use them to actually help his friends? Maybe if he’d pulled a card, if he’d seen it coming... Well. It probably wasn’t productive to think things like that. He’d just do his best to be there for Sasha now - he didn’t really agree with the chillaxed viewpoint of being Vallo-fucked into a state of existence where marriage happened, but he wasn’t her and he couldn’t make decisions for her. Stringing popcorn and cranberries, that was it. Maybe eating a few pieces here and there too, because reasons - it really did help to keep his hands busy, otherwise he’d be chain smoking on her balcony. There was a brief pause after he asked his question but then she shook her head a little. She knew full well that what they’d done was insane, but she also got the impression that he didn’t seem to mind it so much either? It was confusing, at the very least. “No, I won’t. Be upset about it, I mean. I think I’d be upset if he decided he didn’t want to keep seeing me after all this because I think he and I have a good thing going here even if it’s new. But if he decided he just wanted to annul the marriage then no, I’d be fine. Because I know it’s ridiculous, but I also don’t completely know how to explain the fact that neither of us are freaked out by it? We should be, logically I know that, but we aren’t. It just sort of is what it is.” She finally managed to get the hang of stringing the popcorn and cranberries onto the fishing line and kept looking at what she was doing, talking as she did so. “And maybe some weird magic is what made everything happen, I’m acknowledging that, but it’s just…” Sasha breathed out a soft sigh and let her voice go a little quiet. “He had one of those dreams. Where you know things from home and it wasn’t good.” "Oh." Richie didn't know much about the whole 'dreaming about what was going on at home' aspect, but it didn't sound pleasant. He was pretty sure his story was over, that he'd put one foot in front of the other to find a way to live without Eddie and still remember the other Losers, maybe include Patty in on their group texts and letting her into the circle to mourn with them - there was nothing good or bad about that, it was just life. It was moving on. You suffered tragedy, despair, heartbreak - but you didn’t just stop living. He realized now more than ever that life was limited and after all the bullshit, moving on had to happen. As a way to honor the ones who were gone. "I mean, I'm glad he has you - that you have each other," he said, long fingers continuing to string up their festive garland - it was looking pretty good. “Nothing wrong with continuing to get to know each other. Maybe slow down a little though?” Just then, the kettle whistled like an oncoming steam train from Hell - he'd forgotten how loud those things were. Sasha’s story was over, as much as she didn’t want it to be, and unexpectedly at that. In fact, her story had been over for over 4 years by this point back home. Could anyone blame her for wanting to just sort of take life by the horns here and do whatever it was that made her happy? But how do you explain that without sounding completely bonkers? Her mouth had opened to answer when the kettle started to whistle and she put the garland she was working on down to move over to the stove, turning the burner off and setting the kettle on a cooler surface so the whistling would die down. Then she went about pulling two mugs from the cabinet and her selection of loose leaf teas. “Would you prefer an Earl Grey or a fruity herbal sort of tea? It’s really good with a bit of honey in it.” She was going to go for the herbal tea herself, having been given plenty of coffee already that morning. Digging out a couple of steepers, she began scooping tea into it before setting it in one mug, and then working on his after she knew what it was he preferred. “Even if we decide to stay married, I don’t know that we’re immediately going to jump into married life, you know? I don’t see either of us jumping to buying a house and moving in together yet.” “Fruity herbal with honey, honey,” Richie grinned, one of those toothy smiles that caused his eyes to crinkle, squinty and merry. He liked Sasha, she was one of the first friends he made here in Vallo - he just wanted her to be happy, to be content, and also to just kind of take those wild opportunities and run with them, yeah. It was just that this sort of thing could potentially crash and burn and, well, that was what he didn’t want for her. His garland was loooooong, and he made a knot at the end to sort of attach it to hers - where they’d put this, who knew, but it would look nice outside or inside. Could be used to give a little holiday cheer for birds too, or whatever. “Well, as long as he’s good to you - if you’re happy with him, that’s cool?” Richie shrugged. “I’m gonna have your back either way.” Like. This whole thing was weird as fuck but it wasn’t his life so he was fine with just being support and here for a listening ear. “You still want me to go to ‘Hey, I Died’ meetings on Wednesdays, with you?” He personally hadn’t died, but Sasha had - and he thought that maybe coming to terms with that and working through that brand of trauma would help her a little too. Maybe ensure she was less likely to Vegas-elope with some dude on a whim or do other crazy shit like that. She knew full well how bad this could wind up down the road, but for right now it felt okay. Maybe it was a little scary, but that was it, really. The tea was set to steep once she’d poured the water into each mug and she dug out the honey from the cupboard, setting that on the counter before turning to look at him again. “Good god, that’s… a lot of garland,” she said with a laugh, surprised by just how long the strand was now that they were tied together. Not that she’d really managed to keep up with him, though. “He’s been nothing but good to me, I can promise you that much.” Even if mostly what they had was ‘just sex’, it felt different somehow. Dean seemed to actually care about her and he treated her as such. And she was happy with him; he made her feel a lot of different things that always ended up making her feel overdosed on serotonin. But she appreciated that Richie at least had her back, even if he did think she was crazy. “Yes, maybe? I don’t think that’s something Dean would be willing to go to yet, so…” “Then I’ll go with you,” Richie promised. It would be interesting to hear other stories about how people had died and then come back - maybe there really was something to group support, how it could be beneficial. He hoped it helped Sasha a little, anyway. He was kind of a wild child when it came to working with his hands - once he got in the zone he stayed there, doing his best to bat back the whole squirrel! ADHD slip-ups. “Well, if you get a tree it’ll look nice in here,” he chuckled, draping the garland strand over the backs of the kitchen table chairs for now. “And hey, you learned something new. Also bonus.” It meant a lot that he was willing to go to that meeting with her. She felt strange about it, mainly because she couldn’t actually remember her death, though she had it on tape. Which was odd in and of itself. “Thank you, Richie.” Sasha giggled and moved over to look at the garland, holding it up a bit so she could admire the work that mostly he’d done. “I need a tree. Dean offered to cut one down for me, so maybe I’ll see if he’s up for doing that tomorrow. It’s already mid-December and I don’t even have a tree yet.” She shook her head a bit and sighed at herself. “Though at least I have a wreath and a few things, so it’s not completely bare of holiday cheer in here. I used to have one of those Christmas villages at home that I’d put up every year, family heirloom in a way. My nana gave it to me as a present about five years ago because I was just so obsessed with it as a child.” This garland was totally a joint effort - he and Sashaface, what a team. “Maybe it’ll show up here?” Richie suggested, taking the cup of tea once it had steeped, adding more than a decent amount of honey. What could he say, he liked sweet things. “I don’t have any family heirlooms, not really.” Derry wasn’t a place for cheer, or the warmth of friendship and love - it was the dreary equivalent of a dark house standing alone in a rain-soaked night, and also the undercurrent of evil. Something sinister about it - always had been. Maybe things would improve now that ITs reign of terror was over, but Richie wasn’t about to go back to find out. “But I guess it’s a good time for starting new Christmas traditions too. So, y’know - cheers to that.” “It might. Though my whole wardrobe from home showed up the other day, so there’s that, at least? I don’t have to keep wearing the same five outfits repeatedly now.” She was thankful for that, honestly. Having her own clothes helped her tremendously in feeling more like this was home now, even if she did miss London terribly sometimes. And her friends. After fixing her own tea with honey, she smiled and held the mug up to gently clink it against his own in a toast. “To new Christmas traditions.” Hopefully they would be here long enough to have traditions and not just let this be a one off thing. “You’re a really good friend, Richie. I hope you know that.” |