[ 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.
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[ 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.