I'll tell you all about it. Who knows, maybe even a social commitment-phobe like you might end up stopping by sometime!
Be there in a few.
[ AND NOW LET'S JUST SKIP THE WHOLE CAR RIDE OVER AND GET TO JEFF SHOWING UP. It takes a little bit longer than expected, if only because he manages to make one detour, and when he arrives, he comes bearing... his guitar. And a frozen pizza from a grocery store!
And man, it's a wonder how much nicer people are to subs who are contracted and have all the right paperwork to buy even something as simple as a frozen pizza. ]
Soooo... It's not quite the same, but I toss this in the oven and it'll be almost as good as delivery! And if it isn't... ehh... we'll be too drunk to care, right?
[ He's trying here. He just wants to make you smile, Richie! ]
[When Richie signed the contract with Jeff he gave him an extra key to his place just in case he needed to hide out for a while. They had some ground rules but that had been before when Eddie was still around. Now, those plans went right out the window and the once sort of put together Richie had completely fallen apart. Now he was nothing but a lump on his sofa that hadn't seen the light of day in a week. He's sprawled out in a t-shirt and sweat pants and manages to look mildly indignant when Jeff shows him the pizza.]
You're just feeding me pizza so the carbs can soak up all the vodka. I'm onto you. [Ha.]
[ He sets his guitar down at the entrance, looking Richie over with a sympathetic grimace of a smile. Look, he's been there before, in his own way. Even if Jeff's more the "run around until you're too exhausted and distracted to think about how crushingly sad and alone you are" type, the sentiment's the same. There's some solidarity in loss. ]
You caught me. Also, the grease creates this whole... [ He gestures at his stomach. ] protective layer that keeps you from puking. It's science.
[ He makes a quick detour to the kitchen, just to drop it off, pour a glass of water, and start preheating the oven. We'll see if Jeff actually remembers to, like, cook it or not. Heading back to the living room, he leans over the back of the couch and looks over at Richie, offering the water. ]
Here. To help Tomorrow-Richie feel like he only got hit with a regular truck instead of an 18-wheeler.
[Loss was the only constant thing in this world that could be counted on. That, and change. Neither of which Richie really liked. Wallowing wasn't usually his style but he had been so close to making a move, to finally owning what he had never gotten to say that he felt twice as robbed. Eddie went back to nothing, to death, to Neibolt and Derry. Filth and rubble.
When Jeff makes himself more known he sits up on the sofa at least, his usual five o' clock shadow darker than normal from days without a shave and his hair knotted and unkempt. He looks rough, but he's wearing it pretty well for a guy that lost the love of his life not once, but twice. Talk about a rude awakening.]
Just so you know, man. If you wanted to bail I wouldn't report you or, whatever. I'm not that kind of guy. Even if "Dom," is the title.
[Richie's pretty sure that's not science, but it's sound logic.]
I dunno, that sounds like a Tomorrow-Richie problem.
[ And while he may not have the details about what happened, the full, sad story of it, he knows that the last thing Richie needs right now is to just be left here, alone, with nothing but grief and misery and vodka. ]
I'm here as a friend, not somebody who's contractually obligated. Trust me, I'm actually terrible at being a sub!
[ Sure, Jeff, you're totally not a natural at the sub thing. He gives Richie's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, before moving around to flop beside him on the couch. ]
Do you want to talk about-- [ It? The tragedy hanging over him. ] --just how much this city sucks? Or we can dance around the subject. Distractions are a specialty of mine.
[Richie sighs deeply and pulls himself into a seated position. Jeff was making use of his time to make sure he didn't drink himself to death and the least he could do is be less of a tool about it.]
Anyone that's cut out for this place is a psychopath.
[It's what he's feeling right now, but it's easy to judge someone else when the alternative means letting go of a dream.]
I told you about Eddie, right? [He figured talking about that was part of the contractual arrangement that they had. He was head over heels for the guy and never got a chance to tell him. Again. Just let the opportunity slip right on by.]
[ Eddie? Jeff furrows his brow in thought, trying to remember the full context there. ] Your friend from back home? The one you...
[ Were absolutely in love with. Shit. He feels like a fucking idiot for not putting two and two together earlier. They hadn't gotten too deep into the matter at the time, only really scratched the surface, but god, there was no mistaking how Richie felt. ]
Oh.
[ If they were back home, he might wonder if Eddie turned Richie down and broke his heart. But this doesn't seem like rejection; it's a type of hurt that runs deeper than that. And he's seen the postings on the network, when people just disappear from the city, just as suddenly and without warning as if they'd died.
And that's... not exactly something Jeff has much experience with. He's had breakups, sure, and a divorce under his belt. But things with Lisa fizzled slowly and amicably, and Jeff's never really had his heart broken so much as did the breaking, thoughtless and fickle as he was in his heyday.
The only thing that truly broke his heart was when he'd torn apart his own band and torpedoed his music career. Which isn't exactly the kind of comparison that's appropriate to make here. ]
Did you ever get a chance to... to talk about things?
[Richie was stupid over Eddie, dedicated in a way no middle-aged loser had a right to be but his absence had doubled down on Richie and how miserable he felt. Not once, but twice he'd failed to tell him the truth and he was starting to feel like destiny wasn't on his side. If that kind of thing even existed.]
It's the second time, man. The first time he died in my arms.
[Richie's looking at his palms in front of him, he can almost see the blood and the same crack in his glasses that had been fixed when he showed up. If he focuses, he can feel him dead-weight in his hands and see the flashes of light around him like he never left.]
[It's more than he'd gotten offered the last time he'd lost him. Jeff's a good guy, a good friend. Richie heaves himself off the sofa, a knee popping in protest at the immediate movement. He claps a hand over Jeff's shoulder. He's drunk, yeah, but not so sloppy and unmanageable that he can't stand on his own two feet.]
They were getting there. Just getting there. We're both pretty jealous people and we had some arguments just because we weren't being clear with each other. You're not gonna ever hear me say this place is great, but at least I've got you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
>> ACTION
Be there in a few.
[ AND NOW LET'S JUST SKIP THE WHOLE CAR RIDE OVER AND GET TO JEFF SHOWING UP. It takes a little bit longer than expected, if only because he manages to make one detour, and when he arrives, he comes bearing... his guitar. And a frozen pizza from a grocery store!
And man, it's a wonder how much nicer people are to subs who are contracted and have all the right paperwork to buy even something as simple as a frozen pizza. ]
Soooo... It's not quite the same, but I toss this in the oven and it'll be almost as good as delivery! And if it isn't... ehh... we'll be too drunk to care, right?
[ He's trying here. He just wants to make you smile, Richie! ]
no subject
You're just feeding me pizza so the carbs can soak up all the vodka. I'm onto you. [Ha.]
no subject
You caught me. Also, the grease creates this whole... [ He gestures at his stomach. ] protective layer that keeps you from puking. It's science.
[ He makes a quick detour to the kitchen, just to drop it off, pour a glass of water, and start preheating the oven. We'll see if Jeff actually remembers to, like, cook it or not. Heading back to the living room, he leans over the back of the couch and looks over at Richie, offering the water. ]
Here. To help Tomorrow-Richie feel like he only got hit with a regular truck instead of an 18-wheeler.
no subject
When Jeff makes himself more known he sits up on the sofa at least, his usual five o' clock shadow darker than normal from days without a shave and his hair knotted and unkempt. He looks rough, but he's wearing it pretty well for a guy that lost the love of his life not once, but twice. Talk about a rude awakening.]
Just so you know, man. If you wanted to bail I wouldn't report you or, whatever. I'm not that kind of guy. Even if "Dom," is the title.
[Richie's pretty sure that's not science, but it's sound logic.]
I dunno, that sounds like a Tomorrow-Richie problem.
no subject
[ And while he may not have the details about what happened, the full, sad story of it, he knows that the last thing Richie needs right now is to just be left here, alone, with nothing but grief and misery and vodka. ]
I'm here as a friend, not somebody who's contractually obligated. Trust me, I'm actually terrible at being a sub!
[ Sure, Jeff, you're totally not a natural at the sub thing. He gives Richie's shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, before moving around to flop beside him on the couch. ]
Do you want to talk about-- [ It? The tragedy hanging over him. ] --just how much this city sucks? Or we can dance around the subject. Distractions are a specialty of mine.
no subject
Anyone that's cut out for this place is a psychopath.
[It's what he's feeling right now, but it's easy to judge someone else when the alternative means letting go of a dream.]
I told you about Eddie, right? [He figured talking about that was part of the contractual arrangement that they had. He was head over heels for the guy and never got a chance to tell him. Again. Just let the opportunity slip right on by.]
no subject
[ Were absolutely in love with. Shit. He feels like a fucking idiot for not putting two and two together earlier. They hadn't gotten too deep into the matter at the time, only really scratched the surface, but god, there was no mistaking how Richie felt. ]
Oh.
[ If they were back home, he might wonder if Eddie turned Richie down and broke his heart. But this doesn't seem like rejection; it's a type of hurt that runs deeper than that. And he's seen the postings on the network, when people just disappear from the city, just as suddenly and without warning as if they'd died.
And that's... not exactly something Jeff has much experience with. He's had breakups, sure, and a divorce under his belt. But things with Lisa fizzled slowly and amicably, and Jeff's never really had his heart broken so much as did the breaking, thoughtless and fickle as he was in his heyday.
The only thing that truly broke his heart was when he'd torn apart his own band and torpedoed his music career. Which isn't exactly the kind of comparison that's appropriate to make here. ]
Did you ever get a chance to... to talk about things?
no subject
It's the second time, man. The first time he died in my arms.
[Richie's looking at his palms in front of him, he can almost see the blood and the same crack in his glasses that had been fixed when he showed up. If he focuses, he can feel him dead-weight in his hands and see the flashes of light around him like he never left.]
Maybe I'm not supposed to.
no subject
No wonder he's in such a state now. If Jeff were in Richie's shoes, he'd probably drink himself half to death, too. Or he'd do something worse.
Jeff looks at him, a sympathetic frown pulling at his lips as his eyes drift down. ]
Richie... Fuck. I'm sorry.
[ He always hates saying that in the face of loss. 'I'm sorry.' It feels pretty fucking inadequate. ]
Did you at least get to spend time together? Even if you didn't get to tell him, it, ah... It wasn't all bad here, was it?
no subject
[It's more than he'd gotten offered the last time he'd lost him. Jeff's a good guy, a good friend. Richie heaves himself off the sofa, a knee popping in protest at the immediate movement. He claps a hand over Jeff's shoulder. He's drunk, yeah, but not so sloppy and unmanageable that he can't stand on his own two feet.]
They were getting there. Just getting there. We're both pretty jealous people and we had some arguments just because we weren't being clear with each other. You're not gonna ever hear me say this place is great, but at least I've got you.