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]

[ This? This is a stumble, trip and fall away from the triumphant moment that Eddie abandoned for sweet, sweet vanilla suds and the sad-satisfaction of experiencing your shame privately.

He approaches slowly, slanted against Richie’s door frame with his arms crossed and brow furrowed. Dimly, Eddie thinks he recognises one of those blazers from Richie’s comedy special. ]

Your hair?

[ But I like your hair. Nope, not helpful. Wait. ]

When? [ ah. ] When is the party, I mean. Not the haircut — which seems unnecessary, by the way.

[beavertrap]

[ Rich is still incredibly excited for this. He's read parts of the script and wanted the role when it was suggested. He's just... letting the reality of it all sink in. It's kinda overwhelming because what if he bombs this and sucks ass??? ]

Friday.

[ Which was three days away. ]

And it's because I'll be playing a cop. He's unprofessional and likes to crash house parties and shit but they have a certain way they want him to look so...

[descriptive]

[ Another beat, as Eddie turns over his options and weighs the risks. It’s easy math, as are most problems involving Richie (except for the Big Fucking Problem).

Whatever Eddie can do to help, he will. He does. ]

Mm, you almost lost me at cop — but unprofessional? That you can do. [ Quiet steps carry Eddie beside him, and he elbows Richie lightly. ] Sounds kinda funny.

[ Without meeting Richie’s eyes, he starts looking through Richie’s “nice” wardrobe, lifting and folding a white button-down to set aside on the bed, along with another, basic blue number (both have been relegated to the “no” pile ‘cause that boring shit is for Eddie, not Richie). ]

[beavertrap]

[ The relief he can feel in him as Eddie comes into the room is almost palpable. He easily elbows the other man back, snorting, ]

It's a funny script. I wouldn't have tried for it otherwise. Indie movie so they don't have a lot of money but it seems like it could be really funny if they get their chance, you know?

[ But he watches Eddie sort through his clothes and he points to the button-downs, confused. ]

I thought you would've liked those.

[descriptive]

I think I can get that.

[ Not the way Richie does, being a film buff and long-time member of the entertainment industry, but he knows enough from casual viewing and Richie’s monologues on the industry. ]

On me, man. [ A huffed laugh. ] I don’t know why you own that shit.

[ One corner of his mouth hooks into a half-smile, and his gaze cuts up to Richie, warm brown. ]

They picked you, [ grabbing two Frightfully Loud shirts by their hangers. ] so you should look like you. [ He pauses. ] Just, y’know, with a good jacket on top. And none of those stupid comedian sneakers, Jesus.

[ Eddie likes his comedians firmly on the Mulaney and Meyers side of the style spectrum, thanks. ]

[beavertrap]

Hey, I can wear a button-down!

[ Totally ignoring the way Eddie looks up at him like that. ]

All fancy and shit.

[ He frowns at the loud shirts (for once) and runs a hand through his hair. ]

You sure?

[ It's so surreal how he gives a shit about making good impressions now when, as a kid, he gave so few fucks about that, it's a wonder anyone gave him the time of day. ]

[descriptive]

[ A few equally loud button-downs make the cut, at Richie’s protest. These clothing items are just a tiny selection of things Eddie has noticed over the past few weeks, as it happens. He sets the shirts on the bed, peering into the closet in search of decent shoes. ]

I’m sure, Rich. Kinda my job to dress like I know what I’m doing. [ setting the most promising options at the foot of the bed. ] And your whole thing somehow works for you, anyway.

[ For a brief moment, he hesitates, shifting his focus to the jacket options in the closet for maximum, self-inflicted irony. ]

You look good, I mean. [ Like, generally. Eddie clears his throat. ] So. It’ll be fine.

[beavertrap]

[ He almost misses it. Almost. Stilling and looking over at Eddie again: ]

...You think I "look good"? Seriously?

[ There's no way. ]

[descriptive]

[ Fuck. Does he really not know? When all Eddie does is look. ]

Oh, c’mon, why else would I say that, man.

[ That’s not an answer, Eds. Steeling himself, he glances at Richie and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. ]

I’m not writing up your sexiest man alive nomination, asshole, but — [ a nebulous gesture at Richie’s person. ] yeah, you look good. And you look best when you look like you, not some Hollywood yahoo. That’s what I think.

[beavertrap]

[ Of course, he doesn't know. He doesn't even think he looks all that good compared to his friends. It actually does make his stomach flutter to hear it. But of course, he needs to play it off like a joke. Because that's safer. ]

Aw! Edward! I didn't know you cared!

[ And then there's another hug where he pats the other man on the head like an asshole. ]

[descriptive]

You sayin’ I’m a shitty friend, dickwad. Gah— [ he squirms in Richie’s hold, bumping that hand with his head, but it’s half-hearted enough that he ends up patting Richie’s arm (his arm! his brain screeches traitorously). God, he needs to write in a diary and burn set it alight, like every other teenager with a stupid crush. ]

Crisis averted, right? Can I go make my lunch now?

[beavertrap]

[ Richie laughs and lets him go, ]

No, you're my best friend, asshole.

[ He reaches over to mess up his hair, ]

Yeah, yeah, your kale is waiting for you.

[ But it's true. He loves the other Losers deeply but Eddie really has always been his best friend. The one that's always been closest to his heart. ]

[descriptive]

[ Well, that mollifies him in a way little else can. They’re best friends, and that’s enough (it has to be). ]

You’re my shitty best friend, too.

[ ugh, his hair’s gonna dry all floppy now!! Eddie pauses by the door. ]

Let me know if you need anything else, but honestly — you’ve got this, Rich.

[ already made it this far. ]

[beavertrap]

[ It's only when Eddie leaves the room completely that Rich takes a moment to really bask in that compliment. It gives him enough incentive to try on one of the "suits" with one of the better pairs of shoes Eddie picked out.

Hw walks into the kitchen, still adjusting the blazer on him as he does so. ]

How's this one?

[descriptive]

[ Sat at the breakfast nook in Richie’s kitchen, Eddie looks up from his half-eaten sandwich and second coffee of the day, grossly underestimating what he is about to witness here.

Big-eyed as he is, this might be to Eddie what the running shorts are to Richie. Oh, god, why is his mouth so dry? ]

You look, it’s really — [ what is the least thirsty way to say this. ] — sharp. You look fuckin’ sharp.

[ be helpful for once in your life loser ]

Maybe...too sharp for their indie budget? [ He leans his chin on his hand, propped on the table (his other fingers hold tight to his mug for support). This is fine. This is an excuse to look at Richie, like, objectively. Eddie will remind himself this is the worst thing he could want for either of them, when they just got each other back. ] Did they give you details on the venue and dress code?

[ to his credit, he keeps his voice controlled. ]

[beavertrap]

[ Richie frowns at that, confused again as he looks down at himself, ]

What do you mean? It's just my clothes for a party. It's gonna be at this bar they booked at.

[ He looks back at Eds, putting his hands on his hips, ]

It's not like it's a three-piece suit, man.

[ Because this is dressing down compared to what he was originally thinking. ]

[descriptive]

[ IT’S A LOT FOR HIM PERSONALLY that’s what he means. ]

I’m just checking, GQ.

[ he takes another long look at Richie, gaze travelling from his loose curls all the way down to the shoes Eddie picked for him — and, oh, that actually makes his chest tight. Having a crush on Richie is one thing (feeling overwhelmed with gratitude and warm at their lifelong friendship — that’s fine, too) but being pleased at factoring into his mundane decisions is dangerous. That’s for someone else, one day. ]

It’s perfect for that. [ a hum of approval confirms it. ] I like it. Especially the blazer.

[ the part that Richie picked. ]

[beavertrap]

[ He huffs but he seems content otherwise. He's nervous enough, going to something like this and making a decent impression with the people he'll be working with for however long this goes on. He should probably ask Bill about that kind of thing, too. ]

Good. Keep that in mind when you pick yours, Plus One.

[ He can bring someone so of course he's going to bring Eddie. ]

[descriptive]

[ Bad idea meet worse idea. Just make an excuse, Eds: Work thing, planned food poisoning, intentional car crash.

It certainly feels like losing control at the wheel, heart hammering and world spinning. ]

You’re supposed to phrase that as a question, dickwad.

[ It’s not a no, but — he has to check this isn’t a bit. ]

[beavertrap]

[ Cue the massive, dramatic eye-roll. ]

Really? You're gonna tell me you don't want to go?

[descriptive]

[ Honestly, a part for entertainment folks doesn’t sound like his bag, but a party with Richie isn’t something he’d say no to, both because of his infatuation and their friendship. Eddie tips back in his seat, tone softer than before. ]

No, I just said — ask me.

[ and mean it. If he doesn’t want to, that’s that. ]

[beavertrap]

[ Richie crosses his arms, still eyeing Ed with a confused expression and not really understanding why the "asking" part is so essential in this. Like this was something they could only ever speculate about as kids. Now, it was an actual reality.

(Not as swanky as an oscar party, no, but still pretty close!)

But, like with most things with Eddie, he relents. ]

Do you want to be my plus one to this party?

[descriptive]

[ It matters because Eddie can't imagine why Richie would want him, of all people, at this party, being an east coast asshole with basic pop culture knowledge and a tendency to death-grip his wine rather than partake in any fun antics.

But since he does want Eddie there, it's done. Just another heartbeat of hesitation. ]

I do.

[ Finally, Eddie's mouth curves into a smile. ]

Anything I should know so I don't embarrass you? The only parties I go to anymore are work shindigs, and that's a different vibe from what you do.

[beavertrap]

[ Arms still crossed as he nods, ]

Keep the talk of diseases to a minimum unless someone else brings it up first. Please.

[ He didn't hesitate in that bit. Because while he's used to it, while the other Losers just know that's how Ed is, other people... might not get it. And it's less about Rich being embarrassed and more about not wanting Eddie to be looked at weird or made to feel weird. ]

Otherwise, just be yourself.

[descriptive]

[ Eddie opens and closes his mouth, looking somewhat stricken by the first request. He knows he does that, he knows it’s not good for him, let alone anyone else, but it’s—a work in progress, to be less like that.

It does help when Richie is there to stopper his nervy thinking. ]

[ quieter. ] Okay. [ another sip of his coffee and a final bite of his sandwich before he stands to clear his plate and slot it the dishwasher. He has more questions, like what do we tell people who ask how we know each other? Am I your date? but he doesn’t want to push when he already made verbal missteps in this conversation, so instead he turns around, carding a hand back through his hair, more sheepish than purposeful. ]

Thanks for asking me, Rich. [ a little nod to himself. ] I’m glad I’ll be there with you.