[Richie gives into the hug, as he always does. He really can't get enough of it, not after all the years of only having the losers to rely on for affection. Richie is pretty sure he'll shrivel up and die without hugs from Eddie.
He nearly did while he was living in the greenery, see.]
You don't gotta worry about that. My balls already dropped anyway and they're massive.
[Which is more or less a confirmation that he'll believe in this like he believes in Eddie.]
(Eddie swings himself fully and completely into Richie's lap and gives a tiny bounce.)
Really? I can't feel anything. And I mean anything. You sure you're set up down there?
(He smirks at Richie, swinging a leg idly back and forth. His posture relaxes once it's been settled that Richie was going to trust this. What other options did they have?)
So uh. That network post really caught some attention huh.
(Eddie's indirect way of asking to talk about it.)
(A lot, actually. Not shocking. That wasn't too uncommon in the 1950s. Or later, even. Eddie's blushing a little hotly though, and clears his throat, glad for the swap in subject and Richie's ease of sliding from joking to serious.
He eases out of Richie's lap and pulls himself to sit on the bed properly. He crosses his legs together and taps his fingers slowly against his knees.)
Yes. I do. (He stares at the bed, its colorful alien pattern. His mouth is pulled down into a concerned line, brow furrowed together. It wasn't exactly his scared expression, but it didn't look too far off from his nervous one either. His jaw works back and forth, and he exhales quietly.
Finally he thinks of what he wants to say without feeling...completely unsettled.)
Do you ever think about why Derry hates queers so much?
[That's a good question, one that Richie hasn't thought much about. At least not in terms of why. Whenever he thinks about these things, it's more often that he thinks about all the times Henry or Patrick called any of them a faggot, flamer, or any other slur.
The whispers he's heard of what's happened to those sorts of people.
It's the reason why, ever since he'd seen Eddie's memory with the leper--with It--he's been immensely glad that they're both here. Of course, he'd never say as much directly, not for the reason of assuming that Eddie might be queer. For any other reason? Absolutely. But the last thing he wants is for Eddie to feel bad for who he is or who he might be.
So when Eddie asks him that, he falls quiet for a moment. The sort of silence that makes it obvious that Richie's thinking about his answer.]
I just figured it's 'cause they don't like anything or anyone that's different.
(It was somehow easier than asking Richie if he hated queers. Or rather, if he wouldn't like it if one of his close friends was a queer. Eddie likes to think that that question has nothing to do with it. That he's asking because today, he learned that some people he was rather close with were queer.
Derry had a history of violence against all kinds of people who are different, but queers seemed to be the hot commodity. After all, the Losers themselves had never been overly generous towards them the way they had other outcasts. It made Eddie wonder if there were even any queer kids at school. If there were, would they even risk being out with the likes of Patrick and Henry around? They could literally get killed.
Eddie understands Richie inside out. Knows when he's thinking, and when he finally talks, Eddie feels...
Better somehow.
It wasn't a hostile answer. Not like the answers Eddie had shamefully been giving. Eddie slides his finger slowly over the pattern of the blanket, considering it.)
Do you think they can be fixed? Queers, I mean. Like. Wouldn't they want to be if people want them hurt or dead so bad?
[There's not a lot of new ideas that make their way into Derry. The town's too small, too isolated, and the people are too set in their ways. If there were different opinions out there, in his time, they hadn't reached his ears. What he's been exposed to is Eddie's memory. His own realization that it really doesn't fucking matter--at least in the sense that it's not going to stop them from being best friends.
But he's listened to some of the other people talk, earlier, when he'd been sitting beside Eddie before. They had different ideas that are at least worth consideration.
He studies Eddie for a moment, then looks down at his hands.]
Maybe they can be. But would that be real? [Or would it just be more lying, more hiding about who they are?] What I wonder is like... you know, they get treated like shit, right? No one would want that for themselves. So if they don't choose, and that's how they are, should we really be treating them bad?
[But the thing is, if he didn't have his suspicions about Eddie, if he hasn't heard some of those conversations, Richie doesn't know what his answer would be. This is all new territory and he's not entirely sure what to make of it all.]
(Eddie himself scarcely knows a thing about it. Or rather, he had when he first arrived in Avagi. The conversation he had had with Clara had been eye-opening and intense. It had worked its way into him and took hold where it mattered the most. His head still felt loud afterwards, but for once, not with his mother's voice. With everything else.
His mouth feels a little dry listening to Eddie, and for the first time in a while, when he takes a small breath in, he wonders if he could use his inhaler. His exhale his a little bit of a wheeze, and he doesn't quite know why he felt panicky.
Eddie wants to reach out to touch Richie, but it felt a little bit like maybe he shouldn't.)
What do you mean would it be real? (His eyes swing up to briefly glance at Richie before he fails to hold contact and is staring back down at his hands. Richie's hands.)
I hear that at Juniper's, they electrocute them. To try and make their brains go straight.
It's different from having a cold. [He's heard people back in Derry say it's a disease, but he doesn't understand how. Even if it is some kind of sickness in the head? There's worse people out there. He knows that--all the losers know that.] Is it really something that can be cured? Isn't that more of changing someone than making them better? Forcing them to be something they're not?
[Richie doesn't know. He doesn't have the right answers and there's part of him that's terrified of having this conversation at all. The mere mention of electrocution makes him want to cringe. The problem with a creative mind and an active imagination is being able to see this all too clearly: men in white with a hand on each of Eddie's shoulders, dragging him away. The sound of electricity zapping, Eddie screaming--
He doesn't say any of the things he wants to say, instead abruptly reaching over for Eddie's hand.] If that didn't kill them, it would fry their brains up like carnival food. [That unwanted thought returns: Eddie being more of a zombie than anything, being a shell of the vibrant person he's supposed to be. He hates this so much.]
(Eddie doesn't respond right away. He stares at Richie's chest, because as Richie talks, he feels a rush of heat pushing through his skin and all the way up into his face.
It was that same dizzying flush he got when Clara first mentioned things. When Sideswipe did. It felt a little bit like he was sitting in the middle of class and suddenly everyone was looking right at him. It was a similar feeling to the day Richie saw his vision with the Leper. More pronounced because Richie knew him so well that a part of Eddie thought, or realized, there was really no hiding anything from his best friend.
Not when Richie was as smart as he was.
Eddie snaps out of his worries the moment Richie takes his hand and he can feel his face go a little redder. Eddie stares down at their hands. He almost laughs hysterically then, because gosh.
He's not a dumbass. He realizes that his friends touch way more than normal friends. Wasn't this sort of what queer people did too? Just hold hands but with boys. Kiss each other and hug each other but just with boys.
Eddie can't help but give a high-pitched, sort of unsettling laugh.)
[When Eddie laughs, Richie's immediately looking over at him. It's the sort of laugh that Richie recognizes from Eddie, but it's not one that he hears a lot. As good of a read as he is of Eddie, he can't begin to imagine what Eddie's thinking about, what pulled that unfunny laugh from him.
Instead of saying anything else at all, he leans over and wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, pulling him close into a tight hug. It's the best he can do right now, and really, it's as good for him as it is for Eddie. Because after his mind wandered off like it did, he needs the reminder that Eddie is here with him. Safe.]
(Eddie doesn't know what to say. Or to think really. He sinks into the hug and just rests in it. He was lucky, he knows, to have this. To have Richie. Richie who wasn't sneering at the idea or being grossed out. Richie who honestly sounded frightened. But not of what it is to be queer, but rather of what happens when you are.
Eddie presses his face into Richie's neck. Sometimes he really did wish his head would cool it with everything. Between the loudness, his mother, and now....
He shuts his eyes harder and...He shakes his head.)
Sorry you gotta deal with all my dumb psycho stuff.
[He combs his hand through Eddie's hair. There's been so much, constantly, in the past month or so, that all Richie wants is for him to have just a day--a week, even, of nothing happening that makes Eddie feel bad or worried or anything.
If anyone deserves a break, it's Eddie.] You're my best friend and you're always gonna be. [His voice gets a little quieter.] It's an honor to have you back.
(Eddie felt bad still. They'd get their break eventually, he hoped. The Losers had come in during a month that seemed to be prime for ruining them.
Except it didn't really ruin them, did it? Eddie realized after everything, he felt stronger in some ways.
It felt good to know Richie would always have his back. Eddie already knew that but hearing it said out loud, particularly after such an intense conversation, felt reaffirming.)
You're always gonna be mine too, Richie.
(Without a doubt. He sits back and smiles at Richie a little toothily.)
An honor? Jeez. I thought I was supposed to be the cute one.
[Richie leans back, and now that all of this is out there, even if they've danced around this indirectly. They're on the same page, they're still friends. Nothing could possibly matter more than that.]
You are, I'm just a mirror reflecting the cute back to you.
[Does that make sense? He doesn't even care. He just wants Eddie to be happy.]
(It's just ridiculous enough that Eddie laughs, and this time, it's a much happier, normal laugh for him. He covers his face, giggling behind his hands, half out of amusement and half out of relief.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He nearly did while he was living in the greenery, see.]
You don't gotta worry about that. My balls already dropped anyway and they're massive.
[Which is more or less a confirmation that he'll believe in this like he believes in Eddie.]
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Really? I can't feel anything. And I mean anything. You sure you're set up down there?
(He smirks at Richie, swinging a leg idly back and forth. His posture relaxes once it's been settled that Richie was going to trust this. What other options did they have?)
So uh. That network post really caught some attention huh.
(Eddie's indirect way of asking to talk about it.)
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Take a look for yourself!
[It's another joke, obviously, and it's quickly forgotten as Eddie starts hinting at what he wants to talk about.]
Yeah. Do you think any of it helped? [Some of it seems like good advice, at least.]
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(A lot, actually. Not shocking. That wasn't too uncommon in the 1950s. Or later, even. Eddie's blushing a little hotly though, and clears his throat, glad for the swap in subject and Richie's ease of sliding from joking to serious.
He eases out of Richie's lap and pulls himself to sit on the bed properly. He crosses his legs together and taps his fingers slowly against his knees.)
Yes. I do. (He stares at the bed, its colorful alien pattern. His mouth is pulled down into a concerned line, brow furrowed together. It wasn't exactly his scared expression, but it didn't look too far off from his nervous one either. His jaw works back and forth, and he exhales quietly.
Finally he thinks of what he wants to say without feeling...completely unsettled.)
Do you ever think about why Derry hates queers so much?
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The whispers he's heard of what's happened to those sorts of people.
It's the reason why, ever since he'd seen Eddie's memory with the leper--with It--he's been immensely glad that they're both here. Of course, he'd never say as much directly, not for the reason of assuming that Eddie might be queer. For any other reason? Absolutely. But the last thing he wants is for Eddie to feel bad for who he is or who he might be.
So when Eddie asks him that, he falls quiet for a moment. The sort of silence that makes it obvious that Richie's thinking about his answer.]
I just figured it's 'cause they don't like anything or anyone that's different.
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Derry had a history of violence against all kinds of people who are different, but queers seemed to be the hot commodity. After all, the Losers themselves had never been overly generous towards them the way they had other outcasts. It made Eddie wonder if there were even any queer kids at school. If there were, would they even risk being out with the likes of Patrick and Henry around? They could literally get killed.
Eddie understands Richie inside out. Knows when he's thinking, and when he finally talks, Eddie feels...
Better somehow.
It wasn't a hostile answer. Not like the answers Eddie had shamefully been giving. Eddie slides his finger slowly over the pattern of the blanket, considering it.)
Do you think they can be fixed? Queers, I mean. Like. Wouldn't they want to be if people want them hurt or dead so bad?
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[There's not a lot of new ideas that make their way into Derry. The town's too small, too isolated, and the people are too set in their ways. If there were different opinions out there, in his time, they hadn't reached his ears. What he's been exposed to is Eddie's memory. His own realization that it really doesn't fucking matter--at least in the sense that it's not going to stop them from being best friends.
But he's listened to some of the other people talk, earlier, when he'd been sitting beside Eddie before. They had different ideas that are at least worth consideration.
He studies Eddie for a moment, then looks down at his hands.]
Maybe they can be. But would that be real? [Or would it just be more lying, more hiding about who they are?] What I wonder is like... you know, they get treated like shit, right? No one would want that for themselves. So if they don't choose, and that's how they are, should we really be treating them bad?
[But the thing is, if he didn't have his suspicions about Eddie, if he hasn't heard some of those conversations, Richie doesn't know what his answer would be. This is all new territory and he's not entirely sure what to make of it all.]
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His mouth feels a little dry listening to Eddie, and for the first time in a while, when he takes a small breath in, he wonders if he could use his inhaler. His exhale his a little bit of a wheeze, and he doesn't quite know why he felt panicky.
Eddie wants to reach out to touch Richie, but it felt a little bit like maybe he shouldn't.)
What do you mean would it be real? (His eyes swing up to briefly glance at Richie before he fails to hold contact and is staring back down at his hands. Richie's hands.)
I hear that at Juniper's, they electrocute them. To try and make their brains go straight.
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It's different from having a cold. [He's heard people back in Derry say it's a disease, but he doesn't understand how. Even if it is some kind of sickness in the head? There's worse people out there. He knows that--all the losers know that.] Is it really something that can be cured? Isn't that more of changing someone than making them better? Forcing them to be something they're not?
[Richie doesn't know. He doesn't have the right answers and there's part of him that's terrified of having this conversation at all. The mere mention of electrocution makes him want to cringe. The problem with a creative mind and an active imagination is being able to see this all too clearly: men in white with a hand on each of Eddie's shoulders, dragging him away. The sound of electricity zapping, Eddie screaming--
He doesn't say any of the things he wants to say, instead abruptly reaching over for Eddie's hand.] If that didn't kill them, it would fry their brains up like carnival food. [That unwanted thought returns: Eddie being more of a zombie than anything, being a shell of the vibrant person he's supposed to be. He hates this so much.]
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It was that same dizzying flush he got when Clara first mentioned things. When Sideswipe did. It felt a little bit like he was sitting in the middle of class and suddenly everyone was looking right at him. It was a similar feeling to the day Richie saw his vision with the Leper. More pronounced because Richie knew him so well that a part of Eddie thought, or realized, there was really no hiding anything from his best friend.
Not when Richie was as smart as he was.
Eddie snaps out of his worries the moment Richie takes his hand and he can feel his face go a little redder. Eddie stares down at their hands. He almost laughs hysterically then, because gosh.
He's not a dumbass. He realizes that his friends touch way more than normal friends. Wasn't this sort of what queer people did too? Just hold hands but with boys. Kiss each other and hug each other but just with boys.
Eddie can't help but give a high-pitched, sort of unsettling laugh.)
Jesus fuck.
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Instead of saying anything else at all, he leans over and wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, pulling him close into a tight hug. It's the best he can do right now, and really, it's as good for him as it is for Eddie. Because after his mind wandered off like it did, he needs the reminder that Eddie is here with him. Safe.]
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Eddie presses his face into Richie's neck. Sometimes he really did wish his head would cool it with everything. Between the loudness, his mother, and now....
He shuts his eyes harder and...He shakes his head.)
Sorry you gotta deal with all my dumb psycho stuff.
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[He combs his hand through Eddie's hair. There's been so much, constantly, in the past month or so, that all Richie wants is for him to have just a day--a week, even, of nothing happening that makes Eddie feel bad or worried or anything.
If anyone deserves a break, it's Eddie.] You're my best friend and you're always gonna be. [His voice gets a little quieter.] It's an honor to have you back.
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Except it didn't really ruin them, did it? Eddie realized after everything, he felt stronger in some ways.
It felt good to know Richie would always have his back. Eddie already knew that but hearing it said out loud, particularly after such an intense conversation, felt reaffirming.)
You're always gonna be mine too, Richie.
(Without a doubt. He sits back and smiles at Richie a little toothily.)
An honor? Jeez. I thought I was supposed to be the cute one.
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You are, I'm just a mirror reflecting the cute back to you.
[Does that make sense? He doesn't even care. He just wants Eddie to be happy.]
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They would be okay. Everything would be okay.
They were still best friends, after all.)