you know when you catch the sunset at exactly the right moment on a cloudy day and so the suns making everything kind of hazy orange but the dark purples and blues are starting to take over so everything looks pink and hazy and all the grass and trees and sidewalks and streets are that pink purple
and it seems like everything is so quiet for once and it doesn't matter if it's warm or cold out because all you can think about is what the sky looks like
and the trees are all blacked against it and part of you is sad that the day is already over because maybe just maybe you wanted to take a quick ride to the ice cream shop or the record store but then
part of you is really excited because you know it's gonna be a full moon out and everything in an hour or two is gonna be dripping in silver and maybe if youre lucky the clouds will of moved a bit so you can see the stars all of them every single one you think
and maybe if there are clouds they are these misty gray things that look somehow completely different from the clouds in the day and you want to know where they're heading and where theyve been and you realize that you're just really small but at the same time you must be pretty big to see ALL OF THAT at one time
[this is a very strangely beautiful text to get while in the middle of pouring the flavor dust from the bottom of a bag of cool ranch doritos all over his face.]
(It's amazing how Eddie stands to remain vague after basically waxing poetry at - whatever o'clock in the morning. Eddie was half delirious from going a few days without sleep by now. It was fine. Everything was fine.)
like sometimes.
i just want to tell chicken wings i love them but icant cause thatd be fucking crazy.
but it's also like chicken wings are literally so amazing and they deserve to know that they're loved
[will can't decide if he should be genuinely concerned, or amused by the rabbit trail eddie's thoughts are going on. he shifts around in his blankets, settles back down curled around frodo.]
i think you should tell the chicken wings maybe you'll never get another chance. they should know how important they are.
(This is. . . .pretty much how it was for Eddie in regards to this particular situation.)
i can't just TELL the chicken wings, will. you know that you can't just tell chicken wings these things.
they do deserve to know how important they are. that's pretty true. like of all the food groups in the world they definitely deserve to know how loved they are. everyones always like oh they're just lousy chicken wings and kind of annoying and way too spicy!! let's eat this lobster instead like we're supposed to want to do and because it's what everyone says we should really wanna eat, but then I'm over here like yeah but i really LIKE how spicy the chicken wings are and maybe i don't want lobster at all because lobster is kind of scary and smells weird and i don't like to look it let alone the idea of eating it
(It doesn't seem Eddie's very interested in continuing the conversation after that. But he's knocking around in his backseat, parked out behind the high school, and there's a soft clink of bottles and Eddie rolls over onto his stomach, pressing his face against the leather seat.
Finally he manages to text again.)
i can't say this stuff for real, will.
i can tell you. i dont think ive ever really told anyone willingly before. i still am not all that sure im saying it willingly right now. i cant remember the last time i slept and i'm starting to confuse stuff a lot. things are getting bad and it's hard figuring out what all the shapes in my head are supposed to be again
sorry
hey
listen im not trying to be weird or anything im just saying. i want to hold onto that feeling because it's the only time i feel it and i don't think there's such a thing as going back before i felt that or erasing it. i don't really remember there ever being a time where i didnt feel it?? i dont know. maybe it's just how i feel and that's that.
okay sorry. listen i know im rambling. hey wanna hang out? i can bring a different car than chris.
[will's very sleepy by the time eddie texts again, curled up in bed, between the warmth of mike and of his dog, and when the fluid buzzes gently, he squints at the message for a long moment. he almost doesn't answer.
he almost says no.
he doesn't.
because it's eddie, and because the words are confusing and a touch worrying, and because there's something in his chest that responds to what eddie says, wanting to hold onto things, wanting to live inside a feeling. eddie usually says what's in his head, before will's even begun to articulate it.
(Eddie doesn't know what he would of done if Will had said no. He was caught in a real rare mood of honesty and relaxation. Maybe that had a little to do with the vodka he had been sipping at. He wasn't sober, exactly, but he wasn't drunk either. He was more exhausted than anything, bone deep, but for some reason he wasn't in such a bad mood right now.
He was actually in a pretty decent mood. Richie's name was on his Fluid and he kept checking every couple of minutes every day since it had first showed up because he was paranoid that he was hallucinating. Paranoid that it'd vanish as soon as it had come.
Richie's real face and real voice were right there on the network for Eddie to watch a dozen times over.
It was October, just like last time, and Eddie was starting to feel like someone had split him down the middle, but it was okay. It was okay because Bill was here and Richie and maybe even Beverly. Things would be okay, and Eddie was feeling the vague shape of hope start to balloon in his chest.
He just wanted, desperately maybe, in this one rare moment of hopeful bravery to ...to...
Say something.
To do something. So when Will agrees, relief expands in his chest til he nearly bursts.)
i was thinking the porsche. it's easier to drive and i wanna focus
(On talking. The Porsche was black too. Shiny and modern with her updated seat belts and airbags and things that the cars from the 50s and 60s just didn't have. Or if they did have them- they weren't that good.
The Porsche wasn't Christine though. The Porsche didn't have a mind of her own, didn't have something controlling the wheel even when Eddie wasn't. The Porsche wasn't able to unbend and unbreak herself. She was just a regular car. So regular Eddie just thought of the Porsche as plain old 'it'.
You'd think he'd learned his lesson about things that he mentally referred to as 'it' in his head.
But no. Eddie drives himself back home in Chris and gets out. She's unhappy about the change. She was jealous when he drove the other cars, but he ignores her flickering headlights and growling begging for him to not get into the Porsche. But he ignores her, waving his hand, and gets into the Porsche.)
are you good to go now or do you need a little bit?
(Eddie doesn't think to put on his seat belt.
Because he's from the fifties. They didn't even have seat belts back then. The car still smelled brand new and like well-washed leather. He'd forgotten how smooth and nice it was inside. He rubbed his hands over the sharp interior finish as he waited to hear back from Will, admiring the dark wood paneling. It really was a luxury car, huh.)
cool. porsche. [will has no idea what a porsche is -- some sort of car. it doesn't really matter to him. he trusts eddie and eddie's driving implicitly. there's nothing that could happen that eddie couldn't handle behind the wheel.
maybe he's been spoiled by the intuitive reactions of christine, the way she could control herself, react to things, the fierce and fearsome loyalty she had to her driver. maybe he's forgotten how normal cars behave.
whatever the reason, he texts back:] i'm good. we'll be back by sunrise, right? i said i'd help make breakfast.
[he thinks about leaving a note or a text, or even gently shaking mike or steve awake to tell them he's leaving. but if he's going to be back in a couple hours, it's no biggie. he'll be there again before they even know he's gone.
so instead will wiggles free from the blankets, pulls on his jacket and shoes and makes sure mike and frodo are tucked in warm against the october chill. he tiptoes through the house, closing and locking the door behind him. it's cold on the porch, but will welcomes the brisk air, letting it wake him up.]
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Text - ehh handwave this to sometime around oct 10-11ish??
Date: 2019-10-07 10:49 pm (UTC)and it seems like everything is so quiet for once and it doesn't matter if it's warm or cold out because all you can think about is what the sky looks like
and the trees are all blacked against it and part of you is sad that the day is already over because maybe just maybe you wanted to take a quick ride to the ice cream shop or the record store but then
part of you is really excited because you know it's gonna be a full moon out and everything in an hour or two is gonna be dripping in silver and maybe if youre lucky the clouds will of moved a bit so you can see the stars all of them every single one you think
and maybe if there are clouds they are these misty gray things that look somehow completely different from the clouds in the day and you want to know where they're heading and where theyve been and you realize that you're just really small but at the same time you must be pretty big to see ALL OF THAT at one time
you know that feeling?
text.
Date: 2019-10-08 03:31 am (UTC)i think so?
yeah
i do
text.
Date: 2019-10-08 04:16 am (UTC)yeah but then like put how that feels and multiple it by a hundred and then apply it to a person
i'm like
90% sure that's what it feels like
text.
Date: 2019-10-08 04:34 am (UTC)talking about anyone in particular?
or are you talking about those chicken wings you were gonna get?
are you in love with the chicken wings, eddie?
text.
Date: 2019-10-08 06:14 am (UTC)chicken wings. they're so good to me, william
(It's amazing how Eddie stands to remain vague after basically waxing poetry at - whatever o'clock in the morning. Eddie was half delirious from going a few days without sleep by now. It was fine. Everything was fine.)
like sometimes.
i just want to tell chicken wings i love them but icant cause thatd be fucking crazy.
but it's also like chicken wings are literally so amazing and they deserve to know that they're loved
Re: text.
Date: 2019-10-09 03:24 am (UTC)i think you should tell the chicken wings
maybe you'll never get another chance.
they should know how important they are.
text.
Date: 2019-10-09 03:33 am (UTC)i can't just TELL the chicken wings, will. you know that you can't just tell chicken wings these things.
they do deserve to know how important they are. that's pretty true. like of all the food groups in the world they definitely deserve to know how loved they are. everyones always like oh they're just lousy chicken wings and kind of annoying and way too spicy!! let's eat this lobster instead like we're supposed to want to do and because it's what everyone says we should really wanna eat, but then I'm over here like yeah but i really LIKE how spicy the chicken wings are and maybe i don't want lobster at all because lobster is kind of scary and smells weird and i don't like to look it let alone the idea of eating it
but chicken wings
i could get behind that
Re: text.
Date: 2019-10-09 04:04 am (UTC)is this a metaphor
text.
Date: 2019-10-09 04:07 am (UTC)no
(Yes. But listen.)
Re: text.
Date: 2019-10-09 04:12 am (UTC)okay.
i don't think you're JUST talking about food, though. even though you're making me hungry.
text.
Date: 2019-10-09 04:21 am (UTC)whatever. it's like whatever.
(It doesn't seem Eddie's very interested in continuing the conversation after that. But he's knocking around in his backseat, parked out behind the high school, and there's a soft clink of bottles and Eddie rolls over onto his stomach, pressing his face against the leather seat.
Finally he manages to text again.)
i can't say this stuff for real, will.
i can tell you. i dont think ive ever really told anyone willingly before. i still am not all that sure im saying it willingly right now. i cant remember the last time i slept and i'm starting to confuse stuff a lot. things are getting bad and it's hard figuring out what all the shapes in my head are supposed to be again
sorry
hey
listen im not trying to be weird or anything im just saying. i want to hold onto that feeling because it's the only time i feel it and i don't think there's such a thing as going back before i felt that or erasing it. i don't really remember there ever being a time where i didnt feel it?? i dont know. maybe it's just how i feel and that's that.
okay sorry. listen i know im rambling. hey wanna hang out? i can bring a different car than chris.
Re: text.
Date: 2019-10-09 05:15 am (UTC)he almost says no.
he doesn't.
because it's eddie, and because the words are confusing and a touch worrying, and because there's something in his chest that responds to what eddie says, wanting to hold onto things, wanting to live inside a feeling. eddie usually says what's in his head, before will's even begun to articulate it.
but mostly because it's eddie. it's eddie.]
yeah, sure. the cool black one?
text. cw: kind of hint to DUI
Date: 2019-10-09 05:25 am (UTC)He was actually in a pretty decent mood. Richie's name was on his Fluid and he kept checking every couple of minutes every day since it had first showed up because he was paranoid that he was hallucinating. Paranoid that it'd vanish as soon as it had come.
Richie's real face and real voice were right there on the network for Eddie to watch a dozen times over.
It was October, just like last time, and Eddie was starting to feel like someone had split him down the middle, but it was okay. It was okay because Bill was here and Richie and maybe even Beverly. Things would be okay, and Eddie was feeling the vague shape of hope start to balloon in his chest.
He just wanted, desperately maybe, in this one rare moment of hopeful bravery to ...to...
Say something.
To do something. So when Will agrees, relief expands in his chest til he nearly bursts.)
i was thinking the porsche. it's easier to drive and i wanna focus
(On talking. The Porsche was black too. Shiny and modern with her updated seat belts and airbags and things that the cars from the 50s and 60s just didn't have. Or if they did have them- they weren't that good.
The Porsche wasn't Christine though. The Porsche didn't have a mind of her own, didn't have something controlling the wheel even when Eddie wasn't. The Porsche wasn't able to unbend and unbreak herself. She was just a regular car. So regular Eddie just thought of the Porsche as plain old 'it'.
You'd think he'd learned his lesson about things that he mentally referred to as 'it' in his head.
But no. Eddie drives himself back home in Chris and gets out. She's unhappy about the change. She was jealous when he drove the other cars, but he ignores her flickering headlights and growling begging for him to not get into the Porsche. But he ignores her, waving his hand, and gets into the Porsche.)
are you good to go now or do you need a little bit?
(Eddie doesn't think to put on his seat belt.
Because he's from the fifties. They didn't even have seat belts back then. The car still smelled brand new and like well-washed leather. He'd forgotten how smooth and nice it was inside. He rubbed his hands over the sharp interior finish as he waited to hear back from Will, admiring the dark wood paneling. It really was a luxury car, huh.)
text.
Date: 2019-10-10 03:53 am (UTC)maybe he's been spoiled by the intuitive reactions of christine, the way she could control herself, react to things, the fierce and fearsome loyalty she had to her driver. maybe he's forgotten how normal cars behave.
whatever the reason, he texts back:] i'm good. we'll be back by sunrise, right? i said i'd help make breakfast.
[he thinks about leaving a note or a text, or even gently shaking mike or steve awake to tell them he's leaving. but if he's going to be back in a couple hours, it's no biggie. he'll be there again before they even know he's gone.
so instead will wiggles free from the blankets, pulls on his jacket and shoes and makes sure mike and frodo are tucked in warm against the october chill. he tiptoes through the house, closing and locking the door behind him. it's cold on the porch, but will welcomes the brisk air, letting it wake him up.]