open rp

[beavertrap]

i'm reddie trash so the more the better | all about that deep platonic love with the other losers | text | action | pics | prose | go wild, bitches

Comments

[descriptive]

[ Eddie's almost over it (the cuddling, the booty shorts, Richie's terrible arms), when Richie slides into his space. His wide eyes fixate on Richie's fingers, barely registering his words. Instead, he thinks about how they encircled his wrist beneath Derry and threaded together with his own in the motel. You're spiralling, Eds. Yeah, that's what this is.

Only he finds himself suddenly bereft, as Richie moves away, unlikely to return for the rest of the day. They're not kids anymore, Eddie reminds himself, so he can't just follow — or jump into his bed like it's that fucking hammock in the Losers' clubhouse. ]

Fuck off, man. [ He's a great cook!! A beat. Then, he calls over his shoulder just before the door shuts — ] There'll be leftovers in the fridge later, if you're not up.

[ When he makes lunch or dinner or whatever. ]

[beavertrap]

[ He calls back, ]

Thanks, Whole Foods.

[ And then takes the shower he has needed for a few hours. Hangovers always make him feel like shit all over, no matter how lazy he wanted to act. And while he knows he can handle his booze better than most, he also knows he's getting too old to drink so much every other night. He has his memories back, he has his family back. There's no reason to keep looking for the bottom of a bottle.

It's an easy "vow" to make to himself as he crawls into bed, nothing but sweatpants on. He doesn't really care what else Eddie does in the apartment. He can clean and organize it however he wants. As long as it helps him to stay, Richie doesn't care. ]