#‘i’ve made my choice’ *immediately cuts to eddie’s party*

[gregmarriage]

sooooo many thoughts on those last five eps, i can barely think to get them all written down, holy shit!!!

[specterchasing-a]

Rescue Me || Eddie & Kyle

TIMING: Friday, June 25th  PARTIES: @darkh0wl​ & @specterchasing​​​ SUMMARY: Kyle’s birthday doesn’t go according to plan. CONTENT WARNINGS: Drowning.

“Almost there,” Eddie said while guiding a blindfolded Kyle by the arm. A brightly colored bag hung from his free hand.

Champlain Falls seemed like an ideal location to celebrate a birthday. Between the picturesque waterfalls and vibrant will-o’-the-wisps, Eddie hoped the beauty it possessed would distract them from the weight of the past few weeks. Just yesterday, Bex’s magic nearly killed them both. Nell’s grief, a side effect of the incident, continued tugging at Eddie’s heart. It told him to make sure the people he cared about knew how important they were to him.

“Okay,” Eddie muttered, stopping near a large pool of water. Far enough away that they could speak without shouting, waterfalls roared. Between here and there, rainbow orbs floated above the shimmering water. He reached for the blindfold and gingerly untied it. “Happy fuckin’ birthday,” he gleefully announced as he shoved the bag of gifts into Kyle’s arms. Inside, a plush wolf with black fur pressed against a guide on how to cope with anger issues.

“I did what I could on such short notice,” Eddie explained as his hands delved into his front pockets. “Don’t take the gifts too seriously.”

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble,” Kyle said for the eighth time since being blindfolded. “I just wanted to hang out.” Even through his protests, he grinned. The previous day had been...a lot. Kyle could still feel the ache of the desk in his ribs. He didn’t really have any clue how things were going now, but he couldn’t worry too much when Eddie had brought him all the way—well, he had no idea where he was. 

Kyle barely had a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light of the will-o’-the-wisps before Eddie was thrusting a bag into his hands. “Eddie,” he protested, but dutifully opened the back anyway. The wolf was cute, and the book elicited a genuine laugh from Kyle; he couldn’t remember when he had last laughed like that. Everything had been one thing after the other. “I love this, thank you so much.” Gently, he punched Eddie in the bicep. He looked out on the water, mouth falling open absently. “Woah…”

The will-o’-the-wisps flickered and danced across the surface of the water in a way Kyle could only liken to Christmas lights or fireworks. He’d never seen anything like them. He had to fight the urge to howl, cutting one off as it threatened to bubble up. Without realizing it, he started walking towards the water’s edge. “Are they rainbow?” he asked, still staring out at the water.

Eddie shrugged coyly just before Kyle’s fist connected with his arm. “Ow, fucker,” he laughed. A teasing comment about werewolf strength’s effect on light-hearted roughhousing died on the tip of his tongue as he watched his friend react to the scenery. A sense of pride washed over Eddie at the realization that his plans were going over well.

He carefully followed Kyle’s every step, placing a hand on his chest when he decided they were close enough to the edge. “Yeah, they’re rainbow,” Eddie confirmed with gently furrowed brows. Was Kyle color-blind? “Pretty as they are, you don’t wanna follow them. I mean, unless you feel like celebrating your birthday by disappearing off the face of the earth.” As fun as that sounded, Eddie preferred the idea of keeping Kyle safe. 

Kyle looked down at the edge in surprise. He hadn’t realized he was so close until Eddie was stopping him. “I didn’t know I was following them,” he mumbled, looking back up at the lights and getting lost again. “What are they?” He could tell what colors they were maybe supposed to be, but could only really see yellow and blue. “They’re beautiful,” he said, tearing his eyes away and looking at Eddie. “Um, werewolves are mostly colorblind, I guess. But don’t worry, this is great!”

He looked back out at the lights, and the howl that he’d been suppressing finally made itself known. He threw his head back with it, but then clapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” he squeaked. His whole face flushed a bright pink. “It’s a werewolf thing, but I didn’t think I was going to do it!”

“Will-o’-the-wisps,” Eddie said as he dared a glance in their direction. In the past, it took everything he had to resist the urge to follow them. Looking at them now, the compulsion barely registered. He wondered what had changed. “They lure unsuspecting victims to… something, I don’t really know. Maybe it’s different for everyone.” His eyes returned to Kyle as he explained how werewolves perceived color.

“Great,” Eddie replied sarcastically. “Next, you’ll tell me that werewolves have an aversion to water.” It wouldn’t surprise him. For whatever reason, a good number of people in his life didn’t fare well when wet.

Eddie nearly jumped when Kyle howled. As soon as he realized what was happening, he couldn’t suppress the laughter bubbling in his chest. His hand fell from Kyle’s chest as he tried using his fingers to obfuscate his smile. “Don’t—don’t apologize,” he insisted while laughter shook his shoulders. “Actually, can you do it again? I’m kinda digging the whole ‘primal nature’ thing.” 

Kyle hadn’t heard of will-o’-the-wisps, but he was fascinated. He didn’t want to be an unsuspecting victim, but they compelled him to keep moving towards them. The water wasn’t all too fast here, but Kyle couldn’t easily estimate how deep it was. It could be mere inches or several feet, just off the shoreline. He stared down at the water, contemplating.

Eddie’s comment about water pulled his attention. “Oh, no, no water aversion here.” Eddie didn’t need to know that Kyle couldn’t swim. He was embarrassed enough about howling in front of his friend. He swatted at Eddie playfully, but less gentle this time. “Shut up,” he said, pouting. “It happens at stop lights sometimes. I don’t even know why, but I can’t help it.” He swallowed high-pitched keen as the threat of howling again made itself known. Kyle couldn’t stop looking at the lights. They were tempting him to take just one...more...step…

His foot slipped. Unlucky for Kyle, the water was most definitely not a few inches deep. It was much deeper than that, and he was plunging into it. He dropped the birthday gifts by Eddie’s feet as he reached out for something to grab.

Eddie opened his mouth to whine about Kyle’s less-than-gentle swatting, but quickly changed gears when he saw him take another step towards the water’s edge. “Kyle, don’t—” His warning cut-off as he watched his friend lose his footing and nearly succumb to the water below. Eddie fell to his knees in front of Kyle and between the discarded gifts that were now partially covered in mud. His knees dug into the soft earth as he reached forward and tried to pull him to safety. 

Eddie’s eyes widened in horror as Kyle began slipping from his grasp. “No—no, no, no,” he chanted. At the very least, neither of them had an aversion to water. Kyle could swim if he had to, but Eddie didn’t know whether or not something sinister lurked beneath the water’s surface. Frankly, he couldn’t afford to find out.

Eddie did what he could, but Kyle struggled and kicked, trying and failing not to panic. The water was cold as Kyle slipped beneath the surface. He sank for a long moment and lost his sense of direction as he thrashed. The water at the surface was still, only broken by bubbles as Kyle continued to panic.

After a moment that felt like hours, Kyle’s head popped up a few feet away from where he had fallen. He coughed and sputtered, eyes wide. He dipped back under and popped up again a few more feet away. On his best day, Kyle could doggy paddle to keep his head above water. Now, his brain retained no sense of self preservation. He kicked his way back towards Eddie, struggling to stay above water.

Eddie bolted upright when Kyle sunk into the water. A few will-o’-the-wisps flitted away in response to the disturbance. Panic set in as Kyle’s head reemerged; he didn’t look like someone who could swim. “No aversion to water my ass,” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth. He dug his hands into his back pockets and haphazardly tossed his phone and wallet into nearby grass without paying attention to where they landed.  A moment later, he jumped into the water.

Eddie’s legs propelled him forward with forceful kicks. When he heard thrashing beneath the surface, he knew Kyle couldn’t be far. He resurfaced next to him with a gasp. “Hold on, I’ve got you!” he sputtered, positioning himself behind Kyle. Eddie’s arms slipped underneath his friend’s and tightly locked their bodies together. He only needed to get them back to land, but the difficulty of such a task would be determined by what called the waterfalls their home. Eddie internally begged for mercy as carried Kyle through the water with their backs to their destination.

Something grabbed ahold of Kyle from behind, and he didn’t immediately know what it was. He fought against the grip, twisting about in an attempt to break free. Belatedly, he realized it was Eddie that was holding him. Kyle opened his mouth to tell Eddie that he couldn’t swim, but got a mouthful of water instead. He coughed hard, choking on it. 

Kyle bobbed with Eddie, kicking in a feeble attempt to help them get safely to shore. Through his coughs, he gasped for air and hyperventilated. Something primal inside him awakened, but the fear of drowning kept it at bay. He probably should’ve mentioned that he couldn’t swim, but he hadn’t wanted Eddie to feel bad about the choice of venue. Now, it seemed silly, at best, to have not mentioned.

It didn’t matter that Kyle kept the truth to himself, it only mattered that Eddie needed to get them to safety. They kicked in tandem against the water for a while, unbothered by the water’s inhabitants. It seemed like neither of them would lay claim to a watery grave until Kyle’s body went limp in his arms. The weight nearly dragged Eddie under, but he fought tirelessly to keep them on course.

When they reached land, Eddie pulled Kyle in front of him and pressed his feet against the waterlogged riverbank for leverage. He hoisted his friend’s body onto land as best he could before pulling himself out of the water next to him.

Eddie wasted no time in positioning himself above Kyle and gently gripping his jaw. Despite only ever having seen mouth-to-mouth resuscitation performed by actors, he immediately lowered his lips onto Kyle’s.

Kyle was convinced they were sinking. They were sinking and Eddie was going to die and it was his fault. He couldn’t tell if it was the truth or the anxiety, but he was pretty sure his kicks were pulling them down, not out. So he stopped. He stopped fighting, mentally begging Eddie to not do the same. Kyle wasn’t exactly against the idea of death, but Eddie was here with him. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer on his behalf. That,. and he was certainly against a watery death. He held his breath and waited. 

When they were on land, Kyle didn’t dare open his eyes. What if he saw the lights and went back into the water? What if he saw Eddie and died on the spot for being such a lame ass nerd? He had swallowed enough water that his stomach sloshed with it, but he was alive. When he felt something against his lips, his eyes flew open. Was Eddie giving him mouth-to-mouth? Kyle’s hand shot up to the back of Eddie’s head and he threaded his fingers through the medium’s hair. He gave his hair a gentle yank to pull him away.

“Y’know, Carridine,” Kyle rasped, panting. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”

The feeling of fingers in his hair caused Eddie’s to fly open. Frozen in shock, he didn’t pull away until Kyle tugged his head back. “I didn’t—that’s not what—” His cheeks skipped past pink and turned bright red. Essentially, Kyle had just admitted to not minding the idea of kissing him. The thought of Alfie squashed Eddie’s chances of returning the sentiment but, under different circumstances—no, absolutely not. He couldn’t think about that right now.

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were dead, asshole,” he said as he sat upright. “I told you not to follow them, and what did you do? You followed them.” He would’ve shoved Kyle, or at least swatted at him, but he knew yesterday must have left him with plenty of unseen injuries. Eddie wanted to scold him, not send him to the hospital. “Why didn’t you tell me you can’t swim?” 

His expression softened into a frown as he let out a long exhale. “I can’t lose you, okay?” Even if they didn’t talk as much as Eddie would have liked, he cared about Kyle. With Nell’s grief stirring within him, he couldn’t stand the thought of death taking him too. “So, you’re gonna have to be more careful.” Eddie knew he sounded like a hypocrite and he didn’t care.

“Woah, woah,” Kyle said, holding up his hands in a sign to calm down. “Slow down, tiger, I’m joking.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a soft groan. Eddie was red and Kyle started thinking about kissing him for real. His cheeks reddened again and he coughed.

“I didn’t mean to follow them, I—I don’t know what happened. It’s like I couldn’t control my feet anymore.” He looked out at the water and even now, something in his chest wanted him to follow the lights. Kyle stared at the will-o’-the-wisps for a moment too long, but shook his head and looked back at Eddie. “You didn’t ask,” he said, frowning. “You asked if I have an aversion to water and I don’t. I just can’t swim.” The clarification felt stupid now. Rectangles and squares.

Eddie was being sweet and Kyle honestly didn't expect it. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice softening as he averted his gaze. “I—I’m trying to be more careful. About a lot of things. Too many people need me.” He cleared his throat when it felt like it was closing up. “But, hey, that means you have to be careful, too, Carridine.” He fixed Eddie with a serious gaze, his jaw tight. “I’m so fucking tired of bad shit happening to people I care about.”

When Kyle’s gaze drifted to the water, Eddie reached out and guided it back to him. “Eyes on me,” he commanded. It didn’t occur to him that Kyle was already beginning to turn his head away from the will-o’-the-wisps by the time he barked his insistence. Eddie’s anxiety left him too trigger-happy to take a chance. Kyle spun an excuse, to which he immediately rolled his eyes. 

“You and me both,” Eddie said with underlying exhaustion. The amount of people to receive promises of safety from him couldn’t be counted on one hand. One of those people no longer had a pulse. “I’m trying too… kind of.” Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment.

“I’m not mad at you, by the way,” he said softly. “This shit’s hard.” Eddie’s shoulders raised in an agitated shrug. “Life is hard. It shouldn’t be, but it is. And I—I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whenever you feel like following the pretty lights or doing something else equally reckless, let me know and I’ll pull you out of the water all over again. Every time, if I can.”

“Always,” Kyle quipped with a wink. He could still feel the heat in his cheeks as he watched the yellow and blue lights dance across Eddie’s face. Eddie looked just as tired as Kyle felt. “Keep trying,” he commanded softly. “I refuse to lose you, too.”

He was too nice. Eddie was too nice for his own damn good. “That’ll get you hurt, you know,” Kyle chided, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Life is hard. And I’m here for you, too, whenever you need me. Don’t get yourself hurt on my behalf, but… If I could swim, this wouldn’t be an issue.” He slid a hand down his face and chuckled. “I care about you, Carridine. Don’t make me regret that.”

Eddie playfully glared at Kyle. It felt an awful lot like they were flirting, and he hated that he didn’t mind the attention. It seemed harmless, at least. Eddie doubted Kyle harbored any genuine feelings for him, especially considering he wasn’t out of the closet yet. Surely, he only intended to tease him. Friends did that; tease each other.

He grinned softly when Kyle mentioned feeling the same way. “There’s still time to get lessons,” he offered. At this point, Eddie would gladly be the one to teach him if it kept the events of today from repeating in the future. “Cross my heart, I’ll make you glad you took a chance on me.” 

Eddie stood up and collected the gifts from the water’s edge. “We should probably get you out of here before the lights draw you back in. Plus, I’m drenched and you smell like a wet dog.” He stood next to Kyle and offered him his free hand. “There’s still a few hours before the full moon rains on our parade. Wanna go back to your place?”

A grin spread across Kyle’s face, that he couldn’t contain. Every time Eddie looked uncomfortable with flirting, it added years to Kyle’s life. He didn’t have real feelings, this is just what friends did. It was fine. As a friend, Kyle could notice how Eddie’s eyes twinkled in the lights. He could think about how warm Eddie’s lips had felt against his own. It was fine. He swallowed a lump in his throat and chuckled. “You’re gonna teach me how to swim?” he asked, skeptically. “And you’re gonna save me when I drown again?”

Kyle rose to his feet beside Eddie. “What time is it?” he asked, brow furrowing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket—oh, shit. He pulled his phone...out of his pocket… “Do you have rice at your place?” His phone was fucked otherwise, and he’d nearly lost his phone three times this year already. “Otherwise, can we get rice somewhere before we go back to mine?” They would have to hurry. Kyle still had plans for the night before the full moon rose. He should text Nell, but that was not going to happen if his phone was fried.

“Mhm,” Eddie confirmed with a nod. “Just means we get to hang-out more often, which is a ‘win’ in my book.” He liked spending time with Kyle, and it seemed like the feeling was mutual. It occurred to him that he could use more friends who actually liked having him around and didn’t lecture him constantly.

A frown tugged at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. He scanned the surrounding area for his phone, rushing to it when he finally found it. “Uh, I think I do,” he murmured as he checked the time. “But we don’t have as much time as I hoped.” 

“If it’s an emergency, you can use mine.” Eddie looked up from the screen. “Either way, we’re gonna want to book it.” Between the shower he desperately needed, wanting to prolong his time with Kyle, and making sure they parted ways safely, their schedule looked pretty tight.

Eddie wanted to hang out with Kyle? His stomach flipped, but he couldn’t tell if that was the amount of water he’d drank or the butterflies. “Alright, you’re on,” he said, and knocked his shoulder against Eddie’s. This meant more to him than he cared to admit.

The small smile that teased the corners of Kyle’s lips faded at Eddie’s comment about the time. “Uh, it’s not an emergency, but—do you know where Nell Vural lives? I really need to see her before the moon rises.” He glanced up at the sky as it began to  shift from a burnt sienna into a deep purple. They were cutting it way closer than comfortable. “If you could actually take me there, that would be ideal.” Kyle hadn’t been using the wolfsbane exactly as intended and had used the last of it the night before to keep the wolf tranquilized. If he didn’t have it tonight… “Let’s go.”

Eddie immediately retaliated by shoving Kyle with his own shoulder but, instead of immediately breaking contact between them, he continued to lean against him for a few moments. Being out in the water left him exhausted, and it felt good to have help remaining upright. Besides, Eddie never was one to shy away from physical affection. “Bet,” he replied simply.

“Nell?” Eddie questioned, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, I know where she lives.” Kyle would be shifting soon, he didn’t need to be around for that. When it came to full moons, he tried to remind himself that the werewolf would know best, and he shouldn’t take the decision personally. “Yeah, let’s go,” he echoed before leading the way to his car.

[garbage-tozier]

problem - r.t. (part one)

prompt number: three - “now? now you listen to me?”

fandom: it (richie tozier x reader)

rating: e for everyone

warnings: a bit of profanity, and yo mama jokes (it’s richie though, come on)

word count: 2.6k (this is the longest thing i’ve written in a while)

--------------------------

the wind rustled the leaves of the trees outside your bedroom window. you lay up in your bed, listening to them, urging your body to fall asleep.

thump.

you shot up in your bed, instantly turning towards the window, where the sound had come from.

you couldn't see out of it, and the sound didn't come again, so you told yourself it was nothing.

"probably just a bird," you thought, laying back down.

thump.

you ignored the sound this time, rolling over onto your side and pressing your eyelids shut tightly.

thump.

"oh, come on!" you cried, throwing your legs over the side of your bed and standing up. 

you made your way over to your window, pushing it open and trying your best to see into your pitch-black yard.

"y/n!" you heard someone yell. hearing what you assume to be an armful of rocks fall to the ground. startled, you jump back.

suddenly, something clicked in your brain. the throwing of rocks at your window. the familiar voice. the only rat child you knew who would ever be awake at such an obscure hour.

"richie??" you said, squinting. you inched towards your window, and though you couldn't quite make out his face, there was no doubt: that was the silhouette of richie tozier.

"can i come in?" he asked eagerly.

"what the fuck are you doing at my bedroom window at-" you paused, glancing at your clock. "what does that say? one? one thirteen am? why, richard tozier, are you standing in my yard, pelting my window with rocks, at one thirteen am?"

"i was bored," he said simply. you couldn't see his face clearly, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was sporting a shit-eating grin.

"ugh," you rolled your eyes. you had been friends with richie tozier for years now. from him, this kind of stuff wasn't exactly expected, but when it did happen, no one was surprised.

"so can i come in?"

"get your ass up here, you idiot," you pushed up the screen and stuck your hand out into the darkness.

you felt richie's hand hook onto your arm, and the two of you worked together to hoist him through your bedroom window.

"alright, rich," you said, lowering the screen and re-closing the window. "what did you need?"

"what!" richie feigned offense. "can't a guy lovingly visit his best friend at one am without needing something from her?"

"cut the bullshit, tozier." you crossed your arms, leaning on the wall. "what. do. you. need."

richie eyed you before letting out a loud, exaggerated sigh. he collapsed delicately onto your bed. "okay, y/n," he placed the back of his hand to his forehead, resting his other hand upon his heart. "you've caught me."

you sat at your homework desk, flicking on your desk light and watching the boy perform. he was now fake crying into his hands.

"i have no choice but to tell you," he continued. he added a couple of sniffles, even wiping his nose on his arm. "i have..... a problem,"

"many," you corrected, pushing him over so that you could sit down next to him on your bed. "what's up?"

as you observed your friend's face, something looked... different. before, richie was pretending to be troubled. but now, the look on his face was one of genuine nervousness.

he bit his lip. "promise you won't freak out?"

you were starting to get worried. i mean, this was richie. richie "i don't give a shit" tozier. what could be so incredibly wrong that he looked so scared?

"i promise," you said, sticking out the pinkie finger of your right hand. he looped his left pinkie through it.

"alright," he took a deep breath. "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,"

it took everything in you not to start hollering at the boy. here you were, actually worried about him, and it turns out this was all just another one of his stupid fake pick up line jokes.

"fuck you," you said, throwing down his hand. you stood up from your bed and went back to leaning on the wall.

"no, y/n, i'm serious!" you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "my mom's family is coming to our house for a party, and i've been telling her i have a girlfriend."

"which you obviously don't" you filled in for him. he looked slightly offended, but said nothing. you surveyed his face. he looked serious enough- but that was the thing. richie tozier was an incredible actor. he was kind of hard to trust sometimes.

"will you?" he begged. under your judgement, which if you did say yourself was quite good (seeing as you'd been best friends with him since the two of you were in kindergarten), he was for real.

still, you were hesitant to say yes. knowing richie, pretending to be his girlfriend would most likely entail a holding hands, standing with each other at all times, and maybe even... kissing.

it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss richie- oh, how you desperately wanted to kiss richie!

but what if you went a little to hard with it? what if you made richie uncomfortable? what if you were holding hands and your hand started sweating? what if his parents didn't like you? what if-

"y/n?"

oh shit. you'd gotten so caught up in thinking about richie that you'd forgotten he was actually in your room.

"damn, rich, i don't know," you said, pulling yourself together. you pushed yourself off of the wall, now standing directly in front of your friend, staring down at the floor. "i..."

you looked up at him. if he wasn't serious, you were going to murder his ass. that clown bitch wouldn't be the only thing haunting his dreams.

"ok," you said, finally giving in. richie immediately brightened.

"thank you sooooo much," he popped of from his seat on your bed and ran over to give you a hug.

"hey, watch yourself, bigfoot! my parents are still asleep, you can't just go stomping around like that!"

"your mom would be happy to see me," richie smirked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"shut your fucking mouth, tozier," you moved to kick him in the shin, but he dodged you. "you don't want me to break up with you, do you?"

"fiiiiine," he sighed, walking back over to your bed and flopping down. "i won't go into detail about what fun me and your mom had last-"

"richie!"

"okay, okay, i'm sorry," he laughed. the air was still for a while as you moved to sit next to him again.

"so about this party..." you said casually, crossing your ankles. "what day, time, who's gonna be there, things like that,"

"well..." richie stared at the floor, as if he were thinking. "it's this saturday, and it's.... 10am to 2pm? i think? but we don't have to stay the whole time."

"okayyy," you said. "who's coming?"

"my aunt, and her kids. they're around georgie's age, but they're not dead-"

"richie!" you scolded, whacking him on the shoulder. "stop that!"

"sorry, 'm sorry," he rubbed his eye with his fist. "there's three of 'em- my cousins. they're all about a year apart. then my grandma and great grandma are coming, and my uncle, who, if i'm being honest, is kind of a creep, so we'll steer away from him,"

you nodded, logging this information in your head. "you tired, rich?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. he yawned.

"no," he replied. "not-" -another yawn- "-in the slightest,"

"wow! looks like trashmouth tozier is not, in fact, a machine! he lives!"

"how do you know my battery isn't low?" he snapped. he blinked, letting his eyes stay closed for just a fraction of a second longer than usual.

"i can't let you bike home in this state," it was true. he was practically falling asleep! if he got on his bike, he might crash! and richie never wore a helmet (not unless eddie convinced him to). "you wanna stay over?"

the boy sitting on your bed was finally beginning to give in. "okay, whatever," he yawned again. "but what about my parents?"

"we'll have you back home before they wake up," you said confidently, glancing at your alarm clock. the time read 2:17am. "we can get four hours of sleep and be up by six if we go to sleep now," you set the alarm as you spoke.

"okay," richie agreed, which was surprising to say the least. "good night, y/n. and thanks, by the way,"

he stood up from your bed, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket from your closet, where he knew you kept them. this wasn't his first time sleeping over.

he made himself comfortable on your bedroom floor. he curled up into fetal position, and closed his eyes.

you switched off your desk light, then walked back to your bed and got under the covers. "g'night, richie,"

however, just like before richie had come, you weren't able to sleep. after a couple of minutes, you decided to get one last question in with richie.

"hey, rich?" you said softly.

"yeah?" you heard him murmur from his position on your floor.

"would we have to like.... i don't know... kiss and stuff?" you tried to be as casual and possible as you slipped that in there.

"i guess?" he said from the floor. "it would sell it better, but we don't have to do anything,"

"m'kay," you said simply, trying not to start hyperventilating.

that was the last thing you remember happening before you finally drifted off to sleep. richie had absorbed all your energy- and for once, you were thankful.

~

"y/n!" you heard as you felt your body being shaken. "y/n, come on! we slept through the alarm!"

"what?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyelids with your fingers. you glanced up at the clock, and instantly felt a pulse of energy run through you. "oh shit, richie, it's 7:45!"

"i know, we have to go!"

the two of you jumped out of your window,running down the street as fast as you could, praying that both of your parents would be sleeping in.

you reached his house, circling around the back to his the closest window that led into his bedroom. you bent down, letting him climb up on your shoulders so that he was tall enough to reach the window.

"lift me higher!" he yelled, stretching his arms up and grabbing the window ledge. "i don't have enough upper-body strength to get my legs through!"

"i'm trying!" you snapped back, pushing the boy upward.

"i got it, i got it!" richie squealed. he now had one leg through the window, and no longer needed your shoulders to stand on.

you pulled away from under him, watching him climb into his bedroom. everything was going according to-

"richard tozier!" a woman's voice suddenly boomed. you hurriedly ducked down under richie's window, praying she hadn't already seen you.

"h-hi mom..." you heard richie wimper. he always made fun of bill's stutter, but look where he was now.

"where have you been all night?" mrs. tozier shrieked. "i come in here at 1am after hearing the window open, worried sick! i thought you'd been kidnapped! and then i check in the garage, of course, because it hit me- maggie, your son isn't exactly a little angel- and your bike is gone!"

fuck. richie had left his bike at your house. you were just about to run off and get it for him, when mrs. tozier started again.

"and don't think i didn't hear you talking to that little friend of yours, whoever is standing outside my house! who is that down there, anyway? the little kaspbrak child? oh, i'll have a word with his mother, alright,"

without warning, mrs. tozier appeared at the window, staring down at you.

"it's a- richie is this? ugh," in an instant the woman disappeared through the window.

"ow, ow, ow, ma you're hurting me!" you heard richie whine.

you were left alone outside for a good two minutes. you stood there, contemplating whether or not you should walk away.

mrs. tozier didn't know your mother, and richie would never rat you out. as annoying as that boy was, he was a loyal friend. you could get off scott free.

as you thought though, you heard richie's front door open. "you, girl!" richie's mother said, in a slightly softer voice than she'd used with her son. "come here,"

she gestured for you to come over and opened her front door. there was no escaping now.

you hung your head and walked over. the entrance of the tozier home led into a sitting room.

richie was planted on a couch, hunched over and staring at the floor, a blank expression dawning his face.

you moved to sit on a different chair, but richie's mother entered close behind you, taking that seat before you could get to it.

"sit," she motioned towards richie, so you sat next to him. "now i'll make this quick, in case you can get off free with your parents,"

you and richie glanced at each other, confused. "you're my son's girlfriend, yes?"

you pried your eyes away from richie's to look at his mother. "yes ma'am," you answered her, keeping up your and richie's lie.

"alright," mrs. tozier sighed. "i won't ask any further questions. all i want to know is what you were doing last night? and for the live of god, richie, where is your bike?"

"well, you see, ma, y/n and i met up over at the uh..." he stopped. 

the two of you made eye contact and you knew he'd just stopped himself from saying 'kissing bridge'.

"we met up by the park...." he glanced over at you, making sure you were following his story. "and we... fed the ducks,"

"oh, richie that's lovely!" his mother cried, placing a hand on her heart. "now tell me the truth."

like mother like son, you thought. mrs. tozier was like a grown-up, female version of her son, in almost every respect.

"alright. we didn't feed the ducks. we rode our bikes around town, and picked flowers," at this, you elbowed richie in his side, trying not to let his mother see. "ow!"

"it’s okay, richie, just stop lying! i won't get mad!" his mother pleaded.

he met your angry gaze. "i guess maybe i should tell the truth, huh?" he said to you.

"really, tozier?!" you rested your head in your hands in frustration. "now? now you listen to me?"

"alright, y/n, since richie seems to be fixed on lying, why don't you tell me what happened."

"he showed up at my window at one am, said he was bored and we talked for a while. then we fell asleep."

she raised her eyebrow at you explanation as well. "it's true," richie chimed in. "that's all that happened."

she looked doubtful, but she seemed satisfied. "alright," she stood. "you get home now, y/n. and bring richie's bike back when you get the chance,"

you smiled politely, waving goodbye. you winked at richie, before standing up and bolting through the door.

as you ran down the street, all you could do was hope your parents hadn't woken up yet; well, that and that no one had broken into your home. you and richie had left the window open.

you jumped into your room, using richie's bike as a hoist, and climbed into bed. fortunately, you were luckier than richie.

you pretended to be asleep as you heard your mother enter your room. "up and at 'em, y/n," she said.

you allowed your eyes to flutter open, giving your mother a smile.

this was going to be a good day.

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Chapter 3: Winding Me Up Inside

Story: Why Can’t This Be Love

Click to read on Archive

Art of Eddie and Richie by @whatidoisxsecret

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

___

Eddie honked profusely at the car in front of him. Everyone had decided it was idiot day on the road as one of the bridges was down from a car fire. People were cutting him off or making illegal u-turns that almost hit his car. He ended up pulling over to grab a drink at a restaurant. He wasn’t very well going to die tonight if he could calm his nerves with alcohol instead. It was unfortunate that he left his pills at home, knowing they could calm him immediately but a gin and prune juice, his healthy alcoholic beverage of choice, would have to do the trick. 

About a month had gone by since ‘The Arrangement’, something Richie had started calling their pretend dating. Eddie would’ve rather called it ‘The Nightmare’ but Richie wanted a positive outlook on the situation. 

Eddie eyed a grungy bar next to a pizza joint that looked perfect to grab a cheap drink. However, upon further observation, there was a rainbow flag sticking out above the bar’s entrance. He blinked at it, took a step forward, then froze. His body had seized up at the prospect of going in.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there but a booming voice said, “You in or out?” Tossing him from a temporary mind blank.

“Huh?” Eddie focused on the bouncer standing by the entrance, who was ripped and large. He never understood having such intimidating people be the first greeting you encounter before entering a bar or club. Don’t these businesses want people to come in? “Oh...er...no no. Just searching for a place to drink.” 

“Well, this is a bar.” The man eyed Eddie up and down, giving the impression of being humanly x-rayed. “Drinking is the main activity...among other things.” There was some prolonged eye contact between them that dried Eddie’s throat into a Sahara desert.

Eddie nodded shifting forward. He reached for his wallet, which had his ID, but his hand merely hovered over his slack's front pocket. 

“Maybe another time?” The man suggested with a lighter tone. Eddie straightened up, nodded and walked away. 

He just failed at that pretty spectacularly. What would Richie think? Probably that he was a chicken. This had been an extra hard month. With the realization, he may have stronger feelings toward guys than he had ever admitted to himself. He had stopped sleeping, barely ate, and secluded himself more. 

Suddenly, the demise of his relationship with Myra was making more sense. When she used to touch him sensually, his skin crawled. He assumed that was from the years of his mother convincing him the world was a germ-infested blackhole, girls were dirty, and how he could never truly be clean. Except he rarely felt that way when Richie touched him. Or any of his friends. Sure, they had known each other for years, but he knew Myra for a long time too and it didn’t settle into a comfortableness that relationships were meant. 

He tended to resist Myra’s kisses, fake not feeling good to get out of sex, and pushed her away constantly. Their break up had been devastating. At the time he believed it was because the love of his life left him. Now he knew the truth. 

Eddie eventually got a drink at a bar a few blocks away. The drink refreshed and calmed him immediately. It’s funny how certain things relaxed him right away because he’d conditioned himself to feel that way. His mind began thinking about tomorrow, a chilling dread running up his neck. He scratched at the nape even though nothing truly itched. 

He was seeing his friends for a pre-engagement party celebration. Just the seven of them. The thought almost made him break out into sweats. He downed his drink and ordered another. Usually, he would be extremely excited and thrilled to see the losers club, except the next step in the arrangement, was occurring. Eddie had to come out collectively to the group. A fake coming out but that fakeness was becoming authentic with every passing moment. 

He wished there was someone he could talk this out with. There was Mike, but that felt wrong somehow. The one person he wanted to tell was Richie. What would he even say? There was a nightmare scenario he replayed every day that Richie would laugh in his face, which logically he would never do but Eddie’s attempts at controlling his imagination have never come to fruition. 

While he was absently stirring his drink, his phone started ringing. A picture popped up on his screen of Richie lifting a screaming/laughing Eddie from behind. He took an extra second to remember the joyful memory, running a finger over the picture then answered. 

He sighed into the phone, “Hey, Rich.” 

“Where you at, gumdrop?” said Richie with an obvious smile in his voice.

“A bar. The traffic was crap, so I am waiting it out.” 

“What’re you wearing?” He said suggestively.

Eddie frowned, huffing out, “Work clothes, why?” 

Richie clicked his tongue, “Cause you are supposed to be at Beverly and Ben’s celebration extravaganza in,” quick pause where Eddie figured Richie was looking at his phone for the time, “20 minutes.” 

“No, it is tomorrow.” Eddie insisted.

“No, my cutie patootie Eds, it is today.” 

“No,” He said slowly. “It’s on Friday, you turd.” 

A laugh came through the phone, “Today IS Friday.” 

Eddie paused as horror sunk in fast and deep. “Oh shit…”

“Yeah, so see you at the restaurant!” Richie hung up, leaving Eddie to his panic.

He slapped down a $20 on the bar counter, despite the drink being less than half that and bolted out the door. He ran past the bouncer who shouted, “Don’t trip, kid!”

His car turned on with a roar then he zoomed out of the space. The traffic had significantly cleared which worked in his favor as his car swerved around dangerously. His heart pounded with adrenaline. When he pulled up in front of the restaurant, Richie was standing on the curb smoking a cigarette. 

Eddie gave the valet his car keys, not even thinking about how much that would cost him at the end of the night, and hurried over to his friend. 

“The prodigal son has returned!” Richie tossed the second half of his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out for good measure. As Eddie neared Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulders pulling them close together. The smell of smoke was both overwhelming and familiar. As much as Eddie despised the disgusting habit, he was so used to it that he could brush it off. 

Eddie pushed on his chest to free himself a little but not enough to break contact. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot.” 

“Take a minute to breathe, Eds. Where’s your head been at lately?” Richie asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone, except, Eddie knew better. His friend was really asking ‘Where have you been?' or 'Why are you isolating yourself?’. 

Isolation was the only solution for hiding his emotions, which had been many and increasing each day he spent alone with his thoughts. 

Instead of answering the question, Eddie shrugged and smiled lightly. 

Richie reached up and pinched Eddie’s cheek with a “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Stop it, I hate that!” 

He laughed, “You ready to do this?” 

Eddie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, “I can’t do this.” 

“You CAN do this!” said Richie with excitement. “Just be yourself.”

“Fake coming out to my friends is the worst idea we’ve ever had. It is wrong.”

“What do you suggest then?”

Eddie nervously glanced at his feet, “I think we should just out ourselves to Bill like we planned next.”

“You think they are going to believe Bill without any pretense? No, you have to come out and it has to be tonight since it’ll be the only time we are all together before Beverly and Ben’s engagement party. If you steal her thunder in any way, she will murder. Who she’ll murder is unclear but it starts with Ed and ends with die. Hey! That was more clever than I intended.”

Eddie swallowed, “Alright, but Richie…”

He made a tracing motion toward the ground  “There will be a chalk shaped Eddie on the ground with Beverly DNA everywhere. It’s going to work, Eds. I promise.”

“Don’t call me, Eds. Listen, Rich I…”

“Stop trying to come up with excuses! It’s going to be fine.”

“No, Richie! Just shut up a second!” His heart was beating out of his chest, he had to tell Richie what he had been going through or everything could be ruined. He had to give him an out if he wanted. Eddie shrugged off Richie’s arm, so they were facing each other. “I’ve been thinking that I...I…”

“Well, spit it out Eds. Thinking what?” 

“I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE GUYS!”

Richie stood shocked and silent at first, just staring. Those ice-blue eyes hiding secrets and judgments that Eddie desperately wanted to hear aloud. Tears had caught in Eddie’s eyes which he blinked away quickly. “Well! Don’t just stand there, asshole! Say SOMETHING!” He demanded. 

“I...I…” Richie sputtered face turning crimson red. 

“Well, spit it out, Trashmouth.” mocked Eddie.

“I do too.” He gasped out. 

It was Eddie’s turn to stare in silence. “Sorry, I think I went temporarily insane. Repeat that?”

“I like guys, too. I have since college.” Richie sighed with relief. “Maybe longer.”

“What? You have?” This revelation made Eddie take a step back. “I had no idea.”

“Not relevant information to disclose.” Shrugged Richie. 

Eddie gave a confused look then lowered his eyes skeptically, “This isn’t a joke, Richie. I actually believe I am gay.”

“You're the one who shoved a rainbow cake with sprinkles on top of my bisexual pie.” Richie’s eyes twinkled. 

“Wow,” A smile broke out across both their faces, pure joy at the realization that they weren’t alone. They had never been alone. “What were the chances that 2 out of the 7 of us friends would be gay.” 

They stood there, in a rare silence, watching each other with a newfound comradery that didn’t seem possible after 20 years of friendship. Richie grabbed Eddie’s forearm and pulled him in for a hug, which was returned 10 fold. Tears that he forgot to keep holding in fell into the side of Richie’s neck. His emotions were on a rollercoaster with no chance of stopping. He faintly heard Richie say, “Eddie, I…”

He didn’t get to finish what he planned to say because a “Richie! Eddie! W-what’s the hold up?” Interrupted them. They quickly broke their embrace as Bill appeared beside them. He looked calm despite a bit of impatience in his eyes, then saw their faces and concern washed over him immediately. 

Bill put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the weight very comforting. “Everything ok?” He reached in his pocket and took out a travel tissue pack. Eddie gave a watery giggle, taking one and blowing his nose. 

“Yeah, Big Bill,” said Eddie. “Everything’s great.” And he found that his words were true.

After a few more breathes and checking himself in the selfie camera of his phone, Eddie felt ready to face his friends. The three men walked into the restaurant, heading to a back room that Ben reserved for the occasion. 

“Congrats to the couple!” Richie shouted as he bounded over to bear hug and lift Beverly off her feet. She laughed swatting at him, “Let me go you dorkface!” 

“Dorkface!” Exclaimed Richie. “Of all the sass to receive from your dude of honor.” 

Eddie watched the exchange warmly. Ben patted him on the back. “Traffic?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Eddie said embarrassed. “Tons.” 

“There was a car fire and crash on the bridge.” Came the dry, toneless voice of Stanley Uris. “Surprised it wasn’t you Eddie, with all your road rage.”

Eddie gave a pout in Stanley’s direction but walked over to his friend for a handshake and a hug. “Such a kind, warm greeting from you Stan. I miss you, too.” 

“Where’ve you been lately?” He sounded unperturbed, but he wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t a genuine concern.

“Oh ya know,” Eddie trailed off with a shrug. Stanley lifted an eyebrow but didn’t push it, for now at least.

Eddie started to seat himself between Stanley and Ben when Richie grabbed his collar jerking him backward. “Scoot over, Stan the man.” 

Stanley rolled his eyes, “No.” 

“Why?” asked Richie.

“Because I am comfortable here.” 

“You’re being a stinker, Stanley. Move to the seat next to Ben. You like Ben, don’t you?” 

“Of course I…”

Richie looked right at Ben, “Too bad for you, Benny boy, it seems Stanley doesn’t like you anymore.” 

“Beep- beep, Richie,” Beverly warned while drinking a glass of wine and placing a hand on Ben’s arm. 

“I’m just saying it is suspect that the best man doesn’t want to sit next to the groom.” 

“He’s not a groom until the wedding day.” Stanley insisted. “And I am already sitting…” 

“Richie isn’t gonna let it go, Stan. Just move over one.” said Bill with strong finality. None of the losers liked to admit anymore that Bill remained the group’s leader even into adulthood. But when he made a request it was usually followed with little argument. Eddie figured it didn’t matter how independent any of them grew up to be, Bill still held a controlling rope over them. Something Stanley was known to resent.

He moved over a seat as Eddie gave an apologetic look at every one. Getting between Richie and Stanley tended to end in him being yelled at, so he rarely bothered anymore. Besides, he bickered with Richie more than anyone else so Stanley had no room to complain. 

Richie glanced around the room realizing they had a missing loser. “Where’s Mike?” 

“Bathroom,” Responded Beverly, still nursing her drink. “How was work, Eddie?” 

“Fine, I guess.” The last thing he wanted to talk about, except his mother, was his boring job. “An econ student was hired as my intern, which makes me think I’ve finally made it.” 

“Poor bastard is in for a world of ribbing by all your accounting co-workers,” said Richie, bumping Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie laughed, “Oh, I already made a joke at him today. Why do economists exist?” He scanned around the table then opened his mouth to answer. 

Mike’s voice interrupted from the door of the private room, “So accountants have someone to laugh at.”

“Mike!” whined Eddie. “You stole my punch line.”

“Sorry, Eddie.” He took his seat between Beverly and Bill. 

Stanley smirked, “You practiced that joke didn’t you.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned. “How was your trip, Ben?” 

“Not the best,” Ben sighed, he wore a deprecating grin. No matter the story, Ben always had some kind of upturned smile, it was a unique quality. Considering most people told Eddie he had sad eyes, being able to smile at all times would be an excellent trait. “I didn’t leave early enough like I usually do because it was so early in the morning. I left my water bottle in the rental car they got me, then ran from TSA to the gate, was in my seat when I realized the sweater Bev got me for my birthday was back at security.” 

Beverly rubbed his back soothingly, “We can get you new ones of both those things.”

“I know, it’s just a bummer because they were special items before I lost them.” Eddie understood. Ben and he shared the same mentality about their personal items, each thing they owned held a nice memory. He knew that the water bottle was one Ben got from his job after the big promotion, he could ask for another one but it wouldn’t be the same as the moment he received the gift. The feeling of pride and achievement all through a meaningless material item. 

“Well, lucky for you, Ben.” Richie pulled out something from his bag, handing it across the table to Ben. “I had these made for everyone.” Richie continued grabbing water bottles from his bag, passing them around. 

“This is so nice, Rich!” said Beverly. She laughed at the label. Eddie looked down at his seeing ‘#TeamBenverly’. It was great quality, a platted maroon paint covered the bottle with the lettering in a bold white. 

“I still have the keychain you gave us for my bachelor party.” said Bill.

“That’s right!” Mike chimed in. “What does it say again?” 

“Big Bill’s Bitchin’ Bachelor Bash.” Stanley drawled. “Kinda clever.” 

Richie grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, making Eddie almost jump in confusion. He stared at Richie, who was clutching his heart in mock shock, “A compliment? I don’t think I can handle that from you, Stanley Urine.” 

“I take it back,” said Stanley, “You don’t have any cleverness. Only idiocy.” 

“Hmmmm, insults,” Richie leaned in front of Eddie, still holding his shoulder as his face got closer to an unamused Stanley. “They feed my very soul.” 

Eddie placed his hand over Richie’s face and pushed him backward the metal of his glasses digging into Eddie’s hand, “Your soul has a healthy appetite then.” 

“Oof, your words fill me up most, Eds.” 

“Eds is a dumb nickname and you know it.” 

“Alright, alright!” Mike called the attention toward him. “Let’s hear from Ben and Beverly. A decade of being together and now you’re tying the knot. How does it feel?” 

Ben looked to Beverly, who smiled sweetly at him. “Feels perfect,” said Ben simply, but in those two words, he expressed years worth of working toward friendship and partnership that went beyond infatuation. “I’m so happy. And even happier to have my best friends around to celebrate.” 

“This wedding is really about coming together,” started Beverly, “With our friends, the family we’ve chosen, to celebrate love. I think what we have with all of you is rare and...” 

Eddie thought deeply about her phrasing ‘the family we’ve chosen’. He had many issues with his mother, different than Beverly’s father problems but they both came from toxic environments. Kindred spirits in a dark and twisted way. 

With all his thoughts lately, he had pushed down how his mother would react. He may never tell her, if he could help it. Her religious views left no room for tolerance on the subject. 

He shoved thinking about his mother deep in a box in his brain and focused on Beverly, who was still speaking, “...so just thank you for being there for us. Anyway, let’s fucking celebrate!” 

They all cheered, Eddie looking around with a smile on his face. With his ‘chosen family’ he could trust them to love him no matter what. 

As the night wore on with lots of laughs, food, and stories. Ben brought up the story of when he finally got the courage to ask out Beverly, “I was waiting outside of school, sweating profusely, despite wearing 2 sweaters…”

“You always wore so many layers!” said Bill laughing. 

“Well, when you are fat and subconscious, that’s how you hide it.” Ben said, voice lowering a bit in embarrassment. 

“Ben Handsome now shows off his true glory and beauty.” said Richie with a wink. “Just the way I like it.”

“Beep- beep, Richie.” Blushed Ben. “As I was saying, I waited outside and she approached me like in slow motion. I thought I was going to throw up. As I opened my mouth to say something she said,” He motioned for Beverly to continue the story. 

She giggled, “I said, ‘Ben, let’s go to prom together’. His face drained of color and he passed out.” The whole room erupted in laughs. “I..I was knocked to the ground!” Beverly tried to say through gleeful tears, “He fell forward into me.” 

“You were a very pleasant landing.” Ben smiled in mortification. 

“You planning to faint at your wedding too?” said Stanley, “As your best man, I will need to prepare.” 

“No, I’m not. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” said Richie. “I will have a fainting couch ready as a precaution.”

“You’ll probably just jump in front of Beverly and take one for the team,” piped Eddie.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Stanely rounded on Eddie and Richie. A dread bubbled in Eddie’s stomach. “You two having to bring dates is the smartest rule. I should have thought of that for my wedding.” 

Richie threw his napkin at Stanley’s face, “Don’t make me take YOU as my date Stan the man.” 

“You could never get this, Trashmouth.” 

“I can get whoever I want. Right, Eds?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie mumbled. “While we are on the subject, just so no one is surprised, I might bring someone who none of you would expect.” Eddie felt his knee being squeezed from under the table. It took him a moment to realize it was Richie’s hand, he was giving a warning. Most likely telling him to keep the details limited, but Eddie hoped it was a touch for encouragement.

“Please, don’t bring Myra.” said Mike making the group groan collectively. 

“Now, that would be unexpected.” Richie snickered.

“Eddie, you’re not actually thinking…” said Bill seriously. “Beverly, if they get back together I blame you.” 

“Me?!” Beverly opened her mouth to fight but Eddie interrupted. 

“Hello! Back to me, losers. I am not bringing Myra. I am not even interested in women!” The words slipped out quick, and he wished they could be suctioned into his mouth once more. 

They went quiet, as the news hit them. Mike was smiling at Eddie. He felt his bravery trickling into cowardice the longer none of them said anything. 

“S-so does this mean,” began Bill. “That you-you’re g-“

“Gay? Yes, stuttering Bill.” Richie answered seeming to be frustrated by Bill’s condition for the first time in a long time. Then a chair screeched out and Beverly ran around the table, slamming herself into Eddie. 

Her soft hair tickled his neck, his heart was calming down from her sudden show of affection. He placed a hand on the arm she slung over his chest. Richie’s hand hadn’t left his knee either. Everyone else’s reactions were fairly standard, awkward congratulations or they were proud of him, all expected. The surprising reaction was Stanley, perhaps because he didn’t react at all. He was silent for the rest of the evening. 

As they all stood outside saying goodbyes, Stanley seemed to linger a little aways from Eddie. He waited for the rest to leave, Richie was the last to hug him and head to his car. He wandered toward Stanley hesitantly. The taller man was twisting his key in hand repetitively, tapping his foot methodically. 

“So,” Eddie begun lightly, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah,” answered Stanley stiffly. Eddie cocked his head to the side trying to meet his friend’s eyes, then gave up turning to leave. “How do you know?” Came his voice clearly from behind.

Eddie turned around, a few paces away. “Know what, Stan?”

“That you’re into guys.” 

“Because I just do?”

“How long have you known?” 

“Er...that’s more complicated. I mean I’ve been sitting on it for a month but..”

“A month?” interrupted Stanley, he was getting pink in the cheeks. “You’ve known a month and are coming out. That’s not enough time to know.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie was trying to keep his voice calm, he could feel that tingle of rage that surges in him when he feels attacked.

“Have you ever been with a guy?” 

“What does that have to do with knowing whether I am gay? I know that every time I’ve thought of girls it hasn’t been the same as with guys. Or how with Myra...” 

“Ok, yeah! Myra!” He rose his voice like winning some kind of twisted victory. “You were with her for a year and you really didn’t know?”

“Stan, you’re being a jackass.” 

“I am trying to understand why you kept this from us?” 

“From YOU, you mean? Stan, I didn’t keep it from anyone. I was figuring out my shit, then I talked about it with Mike and…”

“You told Mike first?” 

“Um...no…” He caught himself quickly. “I told Richie first then Mike.” 

A hurt flashed over Stanley’s eyes that Eddie hadn’t seen in years. “You told them before me?” 

“Stan...come on. I told the rest of you at the same time. It was just easier to tell them at the time.” 

“I’ve known you as long as Richie has. Much longer than Mike.”

“It’s not about that!” Eddie was at a loss. This was getting nowhere. “I don’t know what to say, Stan. I’m not going to apologize.” 

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Then why are you fighting with me like there is?” 

Stanley remained silent. His arguments lost on his tongue. “I am tired. I will talk to you later.” And he walked away. Eddie stood there, stomach twisting the food inside uncomfortably, eyes watery from the sadness creeping in his head.

_________

Thanks for the patience for the new chapter! Longer one cause I apparently had a lot to get through. I am starting a second job soon, but I will keep working on the next chapter as inspiration hits. Don't forget to subscribe!

Comments/reblogs/likes "feed my very soul", post questions and thoughts! 

And if you want to be on the tag list let me know. 

Taglist: @sam-i-am2468 @slashpalooza @frankeeenstein @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @reddieforlove @appojoos @probablynotacarrot @Twistedbutcute @jawnlawk @decaffeinatedpostmoon @goblinbastards @randomgonzalez @honestly-im-just-sick-of-people @pirates-apologist @asparkleofacrylicquartz @plethoraoffandoms @dangerouspotatox @pan-ini @sarah011 @maximusfracker @callme-eds @vinnosint @02styles94 @justcallme-trashmouth

If your name is crossed out it is cause your tag didn’t work. If you have another tumblr to tag let me know!

[danwhobrowses]

General Discussion: All Elite Wrestling (AEW) Part 2

This is a part 2 of a recent dump of stuff I’m talking about in regards to AEW, if you want to see my critiques and comments in hindsight about AEW Check it out on part 1 -> Here Part 2 is gonna revolve around the future, immediate and long-term, starting with the upcoming All Out PPV

All Out 2020

Criticisms about the Buy In aside, All Out still looks like a heavily stacked card, which is always a positive. I do worry a little that the Tooth and Nail match’s addition will cut into others’ time so hopefully everyone gets a good amount, but if people criticise some matches for being too short remember that fan demand insisted that the same Swole/Baker match be on the paid card rather than having a lot of time to show it for free. And as much as people criticise AEW’s women, the women’s matches are among the top 5 most anticipated matches on the card, probably only behind the tag title and world title match, isn’t that a great thing? Not to mention that the women’s title match encourages AEW/NWA relations, which really would make wrestling better if wrestlers could be more fluid in their appearances. But anyway, All Out is something I look forward to, so let’s break down some predictions? (if you’re wondering why I’m not just doing this on a podcast or something, my voice is not the dulcet flowing river of articulation my writing would imply to be, I like having time and proofing my words, plus if I talk to much my tongue swells and I stutter, stammer and suck at eye contact) So my thoughts for the full card

Predictions

The Buy In

Casino Battle Royale - Eddie Kingston. While I’d be down for Fénix, Pentagon, Archer or even a new or returning face like PAC to win, I think Kingston is the safe bet. The man talks like liquid and his match with Cody brought a lot of eyes to the product. This will continue and start new hostilities, but don’t expect anyone who has faced Moxley before to win, AEW don’t do title rematches so much.

Private Party vs Dark Order (Silver and Reynolds) - this quickly put-together match is going to Private Party, because Silver and Reynolds are enhancement tag teams still, they can win but they won’t win often. Plus the more Silver loses the more bits he’ll have with Brodie on BTE and those are gold.

Main Card

Tooth and Nail - Britt Baker, I expect the cinematic match to have shenanigans but also protect Baker in the midst of her injury recovery. While Swole has been doing the physical lifting of the feud I think having Britt lose on her return could be the wrong choice in the long run.

Dark Order vs The Nightmare Family - Dark Order, Brodie has elevated the tag team to the point where they are a big faction, and they need the big win for this. Cardona, Sky and the Natural Nightmares can take this loss too, but I’d expect QT or Dustin to take the fall for this. Bonus prediction that Tay Conti will indeed join the Dark Order with Anna Jay, leading to them beating down Brandi and Allie at ringside (setting up a women’s tag feud that’d explain why they were kept on other sides of the Deadly Draw bracket)

The Young Bucks vs Jurassic Express - This one I have Jurassic Express, it may be an upset because the Bucks are still reeling from Hangman’s betrayal, this can also lead to the Bucks being more heelish to accompany a Cleaner Kenny Omega. Keep your eye on Jungle Boy, AEW are still hot on him for good reason, this’ll be a huge scalping for Jurassic Express if they pull it off.

Broken Rules - A tough one, but I’m gonna stick with the Multifarious Matt Hardy. I don’t think he wants to end his career just yet and AEW would be foolish to let him go. Plus technically Sami is 2-0 in this feud, so it won’t hurt Sami too much to win in Hardy’s wheelhouse.

Mimosa Mayhem - Another tough one to put down the middle, I am gonna go with Orange Cassidy though. I think Jericho wants to amend the sloppy finish Cassidy’s win had and this’ll make for good comedy to see Jericho (and maybe Hager) flailing around in Mimosa

Women’s Title - I will be happy with either winning, but my heart says Shida. Mainly because I think Britt is the one who should take it from her, their last match was a banger after all. Rosa won’t look weak though, they may even have Shida challenge for the NWA women’s title down the line.

Tag Titles - FTR. That’s it, that’s all you need to know. Hangman’s head is out of the game and Kenny is becoming the Cleaner, it’s time for this schism to start properly, they’ve held it for about a year as well, it’s time.

World Title (Moxley cannot use Paradigm Shift) - It’s easy to say MJF, he is the home breed future and Moxley has had a long run defeating tougher opponents, but I am thinking that Moxley will retain. This is mainly because the odds are so stacked against him, he’ll eke out a win despite MJF’s trickery. The challenger will look fantastic to prove that he will be champion some day, but not today. Instead I think MJF will be thwarted by miscommunication, and as he hinted at during his tag match with Jurassic Express, will split from Wardlow for his ‘fatal error’. Then we’ll get Moxley vs Kingston which can be just as fantastic.

Looking to the Future So ‘looking to the future’ is not gonna all be direct consequences of All Out, some of it is just stuff I’d like to see happen, not all of it has to and my enjoyment isn’t killed from it, but certain things would make AEW better in my opinion. Business Relations So of course it’d be great to have more working relationships with other brands, AEW is already close to OWE and AAA, getting NWA on board would be a good step to establishing good relationships with ROH as well, maybe even NJPW. On the women’s side it’d be nice if they made more solid ties with Cyberfight - which has DDT Pro, TJPW and NOAH, maybe even Stardom, Sendai Girls, EVE and Ice Ribbon. More relationships would offer wrestlers not working Dynamite or Dark to perhaps represent elsewhere. In this representing it’d be great to see more outside titles being shown, it’s free advertising really. Thunder Rosa will for sure be carrying her NWA Women’s title but wouldn’t it be cool if other brand titles could be carried; Kenny carrying his AAA title with the tag titles, Cardona his Internet title, Lucha Bros their HOG and AAA Tag titles, Big Swole her Phoenix of Rise title, Moxley his NJPW US title (though I expect him to lose to KENTA soon), Rosa’s TJPW International Princess title as well and Yuka Sakazaki’s TJPW Princess of Princess Title. It may be me but seeing these titles does add an air of legitimacy to the competitors, showing how successful they are overseas while promoting other promotions. I’d also like to pitch a ‘Locked Down’ mini show or segment where AEW could show what their international talent is doing, Emi Sakura’s ChocoPro could be a light hearted segment, PAC could do some solid promos and like showing the titles, it’d expose the roster as talented. New Signings Someone just has to do good to have people ask for AEW to sign them, but in some cases it would be cool to sign them up. Of the frequent flyers right now AEW would be mad not to sign Ivelisse and Diamante, and I’ve already expressed my hopes that they sign Will Hobbs, Serpentico, Shawn Dean, Brian Pillman Jr, Kilynn King, Tay Conti, Veda Scott, Nicole Savoy/Lil’ Swole and Pineapple Pete, but it’d also be good business to at least call up Renee Paquette/Good/Young and Mauro Ranallo, even if it is for some guest appearances. Signing the likes of Danhausen, Warhorse, ‘Speedball’ Mike Bailey, Millie McKenzie, Laura Di Matteo, Lana Austin, Jamie Hayter, Chris Brookes, Maki Itoh, Miyu Yamashita, Mirio (if he wants to come back into wrestling) and AR Fox. This being said, this should only ease into the Second Show, where we can expose more of the current roster as well. Speaking of Which. (A Few) New Accolades With a bigger division will require more competition. Not all of them need to be titles but something to be fought for. MJF’s Diamond Ring and Cage’s FTW title can help in that matter, but I think a Trios Accolade would be next in line for AEW. This would open the door for more teams to compete; The Elite, Jurassic Express, Best Friends, SCU, Dark Order, Nightmare Family, Death Triangle etc. would still keep it competitive and open the door for more stories of faction warfare. Since this is only my thoughts I would love to see the tag division be intergender too but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that. If we do move to this though PLEASE use whoever designed the world and tag belt, not the TNT belt. Faction Bolstering AEW are looking at the NJPW formula or big factions going into war or tensions with one another, which is good since it does make for lines to be written in the sand. But I think the factions can just be a little bit bigger in some places, and some are easy to add in already. Conti joins Dark Order for 2 women there, have Ivelisse and Diamante join the Inner Circle so we have full LAX (plus Ivelisse tagged with Sammy in LU), Statlander can pair with Best Friends and renew BTE’s skits of her and Orange Cassidy’s palpable sexual tension, I would also enjoy the thought of TH2 joining with Kip and Penelope just to be a faction of talented arseholes. May be the crass side of me, but I also seem to want Brian Pillman Jr to join the Gunn Club simply so we can have an entrance theme that starts ‘Someone call 911, Pillman’s got a Gunn’, Vickie Guerrero could grow her managing of Nyla to an all women ‘Las Guerreras’ faction maybe with Kilynn King, Shaul Guerrero, Abadon or someone else would be a decent move in my books but an exciting faction I can see clearly is a Moxley faction with Darby Allin and Lance Archer. Imagine having Jake the Snake taking care of all that, oh yes is that the good stuff. Future Feuds We’ll end with talking about some feuds I hope to see down the line too, even if they’re not set up already. I’ve already expressed my want for Kingston vs Moxley but another Kingston feud I see in the making is against PAC, Kingston is the man with the plan but PAC will want his Death Triangle buddies back. Speaking of, Moxley could use some bangers with Fenix and Pentagon, both are megastars. While the tag division is looking like it’ll lead to FTR vs Bucks, I think the bigger money is FTR vs Bucks vs Hangman and Kenny first, with Kenny having the Elite ties and Hangman with the FTR ties the storytelling would be ridiculously immense. This thought almost made me pick Hangman and Kenny to win at All Out...almost. I would expect a lot of title defenses from Mr. Brodie Lee, particularly from Cardona but I’d love it if Jungle Boy was the one to win it from him, and for JB to face Sammy Guevara, of the 4 Young Prospects of AEW I don’t think Sammy and JB have gone 1-on-1, could be wrong but Sammy usually went for Darby and JB to MJF, Fénix vs JB would be excellent also. Luchasaurus is also due his hoss match with the Butcher, as well as further conflict with Cage and Archer Also I’d like Shida vs Conti, both are very martial arts-like in their wrestling especially the latter so it would be a good physical match. But yeah, that’s out of my system for now, we’ve talked some good, some bad and some middle, don’t think it matters to anyone but I’ve said my piece Bring on All Out!

[calteahood]

How to Fall in Love {Calum Hood}

Rating: PG 13 (some swearing!)

Word Count: 9k

Author’s Note: Well, here it is! I’ve spent a while creating this and I’ve dealt with quite a bit lately, but it was finally time to post it. I hope you guys enjoy this, and any feedback would mean a lot to me! Enjoy xx

-

It starts with sex.

Sex and stupidity. 

At twenty years old, it's human nature to make stupid mistakes. Except this one would last a lifetime.

Iris read the little pink stick that showed all the signs of positive, even though she knew deep down she was pregnant no matter what the stick said. A period that late wouldn't lie. She was still in community college and working an unpaid internship at a studio closer to downtown LA. Most importantly, she wasn't married nor did she have a stable life. She was in a casual relationship, living in a cheap apartment, taking the bus to work or getting driven by Eddie.

And of course, there was Eddie himself. Iris and Eddie loved each other, that's why they were dating in the first place. But, they weren't in love. No, if they were then they wouldn't be so casual with their relationship. They enjoyed each other's company, worked well as friends in general, and liked loving each other during the nights. They were fine with the labels because they were actually dating, but they knew that someday they would marry other people. Eddie was a good man, graduated from college and even set Iris up with the internship. That's how they met; they both wanted to work in music. Eddie was already working, being 24 years old, almost 25. He was a sweetheart to set up the internship in the first place. Ever since then, they were connected.

Except now, the connection was going to become a lot more real, and neither of them were prepared.

Iris sighed and put the stick into a plastic sandwich bag, shoving it in her purse. She was already late for work. She meant to meet Eddie and her boss, Matt, at 10:30 in the morning, as a band was coming by to start producing their next record. She hadn't been working at the studio long enough to work with them, typically working for solo acts, and at the rate, she was running she would not be able to make a good impression on the band members, or her boss. She messaged Eddie, saying she would be a few minutes late due to an emergency, and got an Uber. Iris was thankful for financial aid; for being able to receive enough for school, rent, bills, groceries, and a bit extra for times like this.

She rushed into the building twenty minutes late, struggling to pull her unbrushed hair into a bun to look at least somewhat presentable. She pressed the elevator button for the seventh floor, preparing in her head what she would say to Eddie. He needed to know right away, and they needed to figure their shit out.

“Eddie, we need to talk— no!” Iris rehearsed. “Hey, I found out something… no, that's stupid. Eddie, I'm pregnant. No, too blunt, fuck—” Ding. Before she knew it, the elevator doors opened and she had to face the music. She would rather not have to face it in front of her boss and four musicians she's never met, but it had to be done and there was no time left.

Iris quickly walked into the studio room, opening the door to Eddie and Matt adjusting the sound, three men on the couches laughing, and the fourth man holding an acoustic guitar behind the glass. All eyes went to her, except for the man in the sound booth.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Matt teased. “Come and sit, we're just getting started. You can help me out over here.” But Eddie was already walking towards Iris, a look of worry on his face.

“Hey, love,” he quietly said, “are you okay? What was the emergency?”

Iris started to dig in her purse, finding the plastic bag with the stick and gripping it tightly, but not pulling it out yet. She turned to Matt. “I'm sorry I'm late, I had a bit of a medical emergency. Do you mind if I talk to Eddie privately, please? It'll only be a couple of minutes, I swear!”

Matt raised an eyebrow. He had a child of his own, and he remembers how only two years ago his wife was nervous and trying to tell him, “Hey, I'm pregnant!” He knew she was about to tell Eddie something that would change his life. He couldn't tell her no, even if she was late to work. He nodded. “Go ahead, but don't take too long!”

“You got it, boss!” She grabbed Eddie's hand with her free one and pulled him out into the hallway.

Instead of saying anything to her boyfriend, she pulled out the stick and placed it in his palm. Fuck it, might as well just put it all out there. “So, this is mine. The stick, I mean.”

Eddie's face was pale, eyes wide. “You're pregnant?” Iris nodded. “With an actual baby?” Eddie asked. Iris nodded once again, this time with a roll of her eyes.

She sighed. “I'm pregnant, Ed. I don't know what happened, if I missed a pill or the condom broke, but my period is late and I doubt the stick is wrong.”

This time, Eddie was the one nodding. “Well… fuck. What do we do?” he asked.

Iris shrugged, only knowing one option for the time being. “Well, first we need to book an appointment for an ultrasound. Figure out for an absolute fact that there's something growing in me, then we decide from there.”

Eddie was already grabbing his phone out, ready to book you an appointment for whatever doctor she needed. “We'll figure this out, love. We will.” He wrapped his free arm around her, the stick still tightly held in his fist, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I hope we do, Ed. I hope we do.”

•••

“So, you're about four weeks along. There are options, love.”

Iris gripped the steering wheel, offering to drive Eddie's car. She needed a distraction after that appointment, and a phone in her hand wasn't going to cut it. Honestly, she didn't know what she wanted to do. She was pro-choice, but she personally wouldn't terminate the pregnancy, so that was out. There was adoption of course, but Iris always wanted to be a mom, she just pictured it being later on in life. Could she really carry a baby for nine months only to give it away?

“I'm not sure…” Iris mumbled, staring at the road as she drove back to her place. “I think… I think we need to talk about us, Ed.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I… I know, love.”

“I have a question, and please answer honestly. You weren't ever planning on marrying me, right?” There it was, out in the open. She already knew his answer. Hell, it was the same as her own.

He shook his head. “No, I wasn't. I thought this was casual—”

“Well so did I,” Iris cut in.

Eddie sighed. “Calm down, love. There's a way to figure this out. If we break up, there are still options. My parent's co-parented me and I turned out fine! I'll always love you, and if we have this baby then I'm going to love it too, but that doesn't mean we have to be married with a white picket fence outside our house.”

Iris huffed, pulling into the parking lot for her building. As she put the car in park and unbuckled she turned to her boyfriend. “So this is it?”

Eddie chuckled, grabbing onto her hand. “With you? Never. I'm going to be a dad! You're going to be stuck with me forever.”

•••

Iris cursed the world for her morning sickness. Well, more so morning and afternoon and night sickness. She started her day with being bent over the toilet, throwing up. She was almost six weeks along now, and she wished time went by faster. Once again, she was rushing to get to work. It was Friday, thank goodness, and Matt was throwing a party to kick off the weekend and celebrate how the recording session with the band had been going.

Iris was nervous to be working with four, intimidating men, but she quickly found out they were nothing to be afraid of. When she found out 5 Seconds of Summer would be working with their studio her palms immediately got sweaty. They were an award-winning band, all tall and strong musicians. How could she not be sweaty? But, they turned out to be giant dorks and Iris was grateful. Plus, with her and Eddie officially on the “just friends” title (who are going to have a baby, no big deal) and her belly not big yet, she thought this would be the perfect time to flirt with the drummer.

Honestly, watching Ashton that day made her forget about the morning sickness from earlier in the day. His biceps straining the sleeves of his tee shirt, forehead covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was a beast, and Iris was infatuated with the handsome man.

Until he walked into the party with a girl on his arm.

“He has a girlfriend?” Iris hissed as Eddie, who only laughed. Iris had a water bottle in her hand, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't think about chucking it at him.

Eddie took a sip from his cup. “I could've told you that! Plus, I'm hurt! Moving on that fast, I see?” Eddie then clutched at his heart as if his feelings were truly hurt.

If Iris had a penny for every time she rolled her eyes at the man, she'd have enough to pay for diapers for a whole month. “As if we weren't checking people out while we were together.”

“True. Aren't you lucky we have this baby to keep us bonded for life?”

This time, Iris actually swatted Eddie's chest. “Don't joke about that! Babies are serious.”

He laughed again. “We have time to prepare, Iris. Chill out.”

She was about to make a comment back, but Calum and Michael walked towards them with a smile on their faces. They pulled the two into a hug. “How're you guys doing tonight?” Michael asked.

“Great,” Eddie said, “and yourselves?”

The two musicians wore smiles, probably buzzed and having a fun time. “We’re good, man. Came over and saw that Iris needed a drink,” Calum replied. He bumped his elbow with hers and offered her his extra red cup as if he made the spare drink just to give to her. When he noticed both hers and Eddie’s eyes widen a bit, he took a step back. “What’s wrong? You don’t drink or somethin’?”

Before the awkward mess of a girl could think of a response, not wanting to even say the word pregnant around that many people, Eddie cut in. “She’s my DD for the night.” He threw an arm around her shoulders as she clutched her water bottle.

Calum’s shoulders fell, but he nodded in understanding despite the disappointment. “Alright, well we’ll leave you guys be.” With that, Calum turned and walked out to the backyard, Michael following behind him. “I thought they broke up? Or stopped hooking up, whatever it was?” Calum blabbered on while Michael took a sip of his drink, his gaze stopping at the pool where his girl was talking to her friends.

“You know,” Michael started, “they could just be close friends? You heard them tell Matt they weren’t dating anymore, had some stuff goin’ on. Doesn’t mean it was a bad breakup.”

“But his arm was—”

“Dude, we hug and hold each other’s girlfriends all the time! It doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with Ashton’s woman. They’re friends, that’s very clear. Just go up and talk to her, I’m sure she’d be interested in talking to you.”

Calum finished what was in his own cup before beginning to drink from the extra one he had made. “You’re right, Mike. I’ll talk to her.”

Michael patted him on the shoulder. “Good, and now if you’ll excuse me...” With that, he walked over to the pool, slinging his arm around his fiancee.

Calum looked down at his full cup, and with an annoyed sigh, he tossed it and his empty one away. His gaze stayed on Iris, watching as she spoke to one of the interns from the floor under hers at work. Calum couldn’t help but watch, really. He had thought Iris was drop dead gorgeous the moment she rushed into the studio just weeks ago. Finding out she was single was the best news he had heard all week. No offense to Eddie, but Calum wanted so desperately to invite Iris over for dinner and a movie or two on the couch before, hopefully, moving towards the bedroom. The party was supposed to be his shot; ask Iris out and show the pretty girl a good time! He just was not expecting to see Iris and Eddie so close, and it stung a bit.

He watched when Eddie finally disappeared from her side and he said fuck it. If he was going to ask her out, might as well do it now. The worst that could happen is she says no. He left the conversation with his roommate and Luke to make his way to Iris, who was grabbing more water from the kitchen. As he approached closer, he saw her bend over to grab a bottle from the bottom of the fridge, eyes almost glued to the curve of her ass. She stood back up, closing the door and turning to face the bassist.

“Fuck!” Iris gasped, hand moving to her chest, feeling her heart race. “You scared me!”

Calum chuckled, but his palms were sweaty due to nerves. I’m going to scare her off before I even have a chance. “Shit, I’m sorry. Just wanted to come and say hi.”

As her breathing settled, she let out a laugh. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be there. But, hi! Shit, I mean, what’s up?” Iris stumbled with her words, feeling her stomach begin to bubble. Her throat burned for a moment, but she tried to ignore the feeling she’d gotten used to over the weeks.

“Well, I just wanted to see if…” Calum cut off his sentence, seeing Iris’s face scrunch up in disgust as one hand held her stomach and the other covered her mouth.

“Fuck, sorry, excuse me!” Iris mumbled through her fingers before pushing past him and fast walking to the closest open restroom. She kicked the door closed, trying as fast as possible to kneel over the toilet. She used one hand to brace herself over the toilet seat and the other to hold her hair back.

She faintly heard the sound of the door opening. Then she felt warm hands wrap around her hair. She would have been scared shitless if it wasn’t for the faint voice telling her, “Woah woah, you’re okay.” As awkward as it was that Calum Hood, the man she didn’t know well, came to her rescue, she did not push him away as she continued throwing up.

Twenty minutes later she was swishing around mouth wash that she found in the cabinets and Calum was making sure the toilet seat was clean. Iris leaned down and spat out the mouth wash. “Thank you, Calum,” she whispered, her body still shaking from how sick she felt just minutes ago.

Calum shook his head. “Don’t mention it. As long as you’re feeling better.” He moved to the sink in order to wash his hands and Iris made room for him.

Finally looking up to see him, she groaned. He was handsome. Really handsome. But she was also really, definitely pregnant and she couldn’t get through talking to him without getting sick. She needed to come to terms with the fact that the party scene, chatting with beautiful men and having hookups could no longer be her world. “I am… I should probably get going.” She pulled out her phone, opening her Uber app.

Calum cocked an eyebrow, drying his hands off on his pants and turning to her. “I thought you were Eddie’s driver?” His head was spinning instantly. Was he lied to because Eddie didn’t want anyone talking to her? Or, did Eddie make that up because Iris was uncomfortable next to the bassist? Before he could say anything else, Iris spoke up, gaze still on her phone.

“He’s just got shit runnin’ out of his mouth. I don’t even have a car.”

Calum’s head snapped up from her phone to her face. “What?”

She looked at him, sighing. “He just didn’t want me drinking, that’s all.”

“Are you sick? Or—”

Iris confirmed her Uber, which said it would be there in ten minutes. “No,” she said. “I just… look, can I trust you?” Her question took him by surprise, but he nodded. “I’m serious, if Matt finds out I might lose my internship.” Again, he nodded. “I… so, you know Matt and I broke up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly.

“Well, we weren’t really in love, but we have this problem and… and he’s just being a protective friend.” Iris held her belly, fearing that telling someone would make her feel sick again. The only ones who knew were her parents and Eddie’s. Was it weird to tell Calum? Then again, he did help hold her hair back as she was throwing up. He’s obviously a good guy. “I’m… pregnant.”

His eyes widened. He coughed a bit, stammering, “Wow, that’s um… a lot.”

And Iris looked at his bulging eyes, and she giggled. What a boy, she thought. She smirked, “Yeah, it’s kinda a lot. Still want to chat me up after hearing that?”

If his eyes weren’t already open wide at her first statement, they’d grow in a heartbeat. “How’d you know?”

She laughed. “You wouldn’t just hold my hair back if you don’t care about me to an extent.”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Fair point. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize.”

“No no no,” she rushed to say, “you’re fine! I’m not showing or anything, you didn’t know. It’s okay. Plus, you came in here to help even though I was puking my guts out. I think I’m not ready to hook up or have any dates, I mean obviously the baby didn’t like me talking to someone,” she teased, and they both chuckled. “But,” she continued, “I appreciate the kindness, and just so you know, if I was able to drink I would’ve taken that extra cup from you.”

Calum smirked, feeling like maybe he was getting somewhere. A sudden burst of confidence ran through the man. “Well, will you take my number instead?” Iris gave him a look, but a smile was on her lips. “Not so I can try to get at you,” he confirmed was a laugh. “Just in case you need a friend again.”

Iris’s phone buzzed in her pocket, signaling to her that her Uber was here. She pulled out her phone, handing it over to Calum so he could type in his number. He sent himself a message, ensuring the text went through, and he gave her phone back.

“I'll text you, Calum. Thank you again for helping me out tonight.” And with that, she left the restroom.

Calum and Iris began to talk a lot more, making conversation during recording sessions and texting frequently. Calum would send pictures of his dog, and in return, he’d get “baby bump” photos, even though Iris was hardly able to show yet. The grew close, and Calum was thankful. He met her, thinking she was a hot young girl who would be fun to hang out with and even more fun to have sex with. But, the universe has a funny way of showing him what’s more important because after that night at the party she wasn’t just a girl he wanted to hook up with. She was a smart, strong, beautiful woman who had the world on her shoulders. She was so much more than what he thought she would be, and Calum was proud to call her a friend.

That’s what Iris needed, too. A friend. She was expecting to end the party on Ashton’s arm, but instead, she got Calum’s hands holding her hair back and his number in her phone. She was happy to have him as a close friend, especially with how crazy life can turn out to be. She wasn’t expecting him to be her rock, but sometimes people don’t get what they want.

•••

When falling in love, there is heartbreak and pain. It's a given. Though, typically it's those who are in a relationship that feel the pain. Instead, it was Calum and Iris.

He wasn't expecting to be the first person she'd call in a moment like that. He'd be lying if he said she'd be his first phone call. He had to push his feelings aside and just be a friend, a supportive one during her pregnancy. With his crush on her now faded away, he would easily call Ashton, Luke, or Michael. If his sister wasn't in a different country, he'd call her too.

But Iris didn't have many other friends. She went to school and worked, and then when the semester ended she worked and slept. She stopped going out, and no one messaged her to invite her to places anymore. She only had Eddie, Matt, and the boys in the band. That is, until she didn't.

He got the call at two in the morning. The cell phone woke Duke up first, and he let out a few small barks. After a few rings, Calum finally picked up his phone, and seeing that the caller ID said 'Iris Miller's he answered quickly. He was expecting her excited voice, begging him to pick her up for some late night In N Out, even though she claimed she didn't like the place. Maybe she needed someone to go with her to an appointment the next day due to Eddie canceling on her. Her twelve-week appointment was coming up, and she was excited that she was finally going to be ready to share her pregnancy news with everybody. Maybe, just maybe, she called him because she was so excited and needed to share her excitement.

What Calum wasn't expecting when he answered was Iris hyperventilating, struggling to get the words out. “Eddie's dead.”

And he froze. What was happening? What was going on?

He finally managed to get out a couple words, hearing Iris's heartbreak on the other line. “Iris, what's going on? Breathe, in and out, in and out, and tell me what happened.”

Her hands were shaking as she sat on the hospital floor, her back against the hallway wall. She stuttered her words, her mind unable to wrap about what had happened only an hour ago. “He— he went out— I don't know if it was a date or hanging out with friends, I don't know! And he walked into the gas station by his apartment, Cal, fuck— he was so close to home and…” Iris inhaled deeply, feeling like she was going to throw up.

As soon as she began to speak, though, Calum sprang out of bed. He pulled on sweats and a hoodie, slipping his feet into Vans and lacing them up as fast as he could while the held the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. He couldn't process her first sentence, “Eddie's dead.” All he knew is that Iris was panicking; she needed a friend, and Calum assured her that he could be that friend for her.

Eddie's parents and step-parents were down the hall, crying, speaking to doctors, making phone calls of their own, and mourning the loss of their only son. His sisters were on their way from their own homes, one living an hour away and the other living in LA, closer to the beach. But Iris had no one as she curled herself up on the floor. She called her parents, but they were a three-hour drive away and were fast asleep, unable to answer their phones.

She took deep breaths once again, trying to calm her breathing while her shaking hands only got more unsteady. “He walked into the gas station, Cal, and there were only two people; the man at the register and another man, holding a gun, Cal. He walked into a robbery, Cal, a fucking robbery! And he should have tried to back out slowly, but he grabbed his phone instead! He called the police and all they heard when they picked up was a fucking gunshot! He was dead by the time I got here, I— I didn't even get to say goodbye, Cal! He's gone and I have his baby and he's fucking gone.”

Calum slipped into his car, leaving Duke to stay at home with his roommate. The number of times she said his name, it's as if she was trying to stay grounding, remind herself that he's there with her.

“Iris, hey,” he said softly, starting his car. “Tell me where you are and I'll be there, okay? Just breathe for me, and I'm on my way.”

She nodded to herself. He's there, he's coming to help. “Okay, yeah. I’m at the hospital, I'll send you the address if you need it. I'll tell you where I'm at when you get here. Just… don't hang up, please,” Iris begged, her voice so low, so quiet. Calum had never heard her so defeated before within the few months they'd been friends.

True to his word, he stayed on the line until he got there, helping her keep her breathing steady. When he finally made it to the hospital he jogged inside and tried his best to get to the floor she was on as swiftly as possible.

Calum found her against the wall, two people that looked just like the man who passed at the other end of the hall. They looked at each other and Calum immediately sat down next to her, pulling her into his arms. Together they sobbed, reality hitting Calum like a train. Eddie, who'd been a friend of his since recording began, was gone too soon. But what hurt more was that he left behind a child, and Calum was at a loss on how to pick up the pieces.

•••

Iris's pregnancy was supposed to be a wonderful time where her and Eddie prepared to bring a baby into the world and give them a sea of opportunities. Instead, she was alone. She didn't have a pregnancy glow and didn't post pictures of her sonogram photos to let the world know she was expecting. She wasn't loving pregnancy like she was supposed to; no, she wasn't loving anything at all.

Eddie’s death made her feel like she was in purgatory. Due to being pregnant, she had to keep on going for the baby's sake. Though, she was just going through the motions. She felt like a part of her was missing, which to an extent was true. The baby was part him, and the baby was now fatherless.

Her heart was conflicted. She wasn't in love with Eddie, but he was a good and sweet man who was gone too soon. Gone before he could meet his own child. It was unfair, and it made Iris feel numb. She got to the point where she wouldn't want to think of the baby. She was supposed to find out the gender of the baby over the upcoming week, but she made no appointments and showed no interest within the baby. She was no longer living, she was merely existing.

News of her pregnancy spread after the funeral, and she was thankful it was never brought up during the service. Calum told the boys and the people at the studio that Iris was expecting, knowing all too well that she would make no move to speak of it. Michael was too upset by the recent events to crack a joke or two about the pregnancy considering Calum's former crush. Ashton was silent more often than not. They took time away from the studio. But Calum tried to visit Iris, considering they would not be seeing each other at work. It was weird; Calum didn't see them as too close, and then all of a sudden she relied on him and he vowed to be her crutch. He loved it, really, but he was worried about what was to come as the pregnancy furthered. He worried about her health and the baby's health, because Iris wasn’t taking care of herself after the passing. He also worried because she was going through her pregnancy without the father, and the baby would have to suffer that within a few months. He never wanted that to happen, not to Iris or her child.

Calum watched as Iris hid herself from the world. He knew for damn sure she wasn't taking care of herself. Her mother was worried about her, and she all but begged her to come back home and live with them during their latest phone conversation. But Iris clung onto Calum tighter. He didn't know why he was the one she attached herself to after the accident, but he would never turn her away. He was just worried.

Eventually, the guys would be going on a small promotional tour, and he feared leaving her in California. The boys understood, to a fault. They knew Calum wouldn't love her like a boyfriend would, and desperately hoped he wouldn't revisit his crush for her considering the fact that she was carrying a baby and a lot of emotional baggage, two things the boys did not want Calum to take on. Though, they also became her friends throughout the recording process, and then even more as she spent time with Calum. They knew that Iris somewhat attached herself to him long before she lost Eddie. Ashton figured she hadn't had someone around to be a friend for a while, and when Calum presented himself as a good option at the party, she slowly but surely hung on to the man.

Calum was stressed, thinking that while he was gone maybe she wouldn't take care of herself, or her baby. He felt like he already had to force her to watch over her body and the new life growing inside it half the time. He honestly could not recall the last time she even mentioned the word, “baby.”

Finally, it was time for her 20-week appointment; an appointment she wasn't even planning on attending. She cried in the shower, thinking about how today was supposed to be the day they would find out if they were having a bouncing baby boy or a gorgeous little girl. Only now, there was no they, only Iris was left. Or so, she thought, until she opened the door to leave her place and catch the bus to the appointment. There stood Calum, his face covered with a hat and sunglasses, and a light jacket she hadn't seen before thrown over his shirt. He was covering himself, trying to go unnoticed if he was going to be seen with a pregnant woman. That wouldn't be good to see all over Twitter later on.

“Cal… what are you doing here?” Iris questioned.

He shot her a soft smile. “I know you didn't want to go today, thought I might as well go with, be your moral support.” He offered his arm out to her, and she slowly took it, the other hand closing and locking her door before moving to rest on her little belly. Well, little for now. The baby was growing more and more each day, she didn't think of her middle area as small anymore.

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but he knew this was a big deal for her. It was his goal to get her out of her rut, and hopefully seeing the baby would help that. Eddie may be gone, but he left her the greatest gift he could, and she wouldn't have to do anything alone as long as Calum could help.

They made it to the appointment, having enough time to stop by Starbucks and get a drink considering Calum drove. Iris hated having to plan her schedule by bus routes, and he knew that. They waited for ten minutes before getting called back. Calum was in awe as he watched Iris lift up her shirt so her doctor could smooth the jelly onto her stomach. It was the first time he'd seen her belly close up, and it hit him. She's going to have a baby in her arms in twenty weeks, and their dynamic would change. It frightened Calum, but he knew that's when she'd need him most.

“So,” the doctor began, “are we here for just a check-up or did you want to find out the gender too?” She smiled at Iris and Calum.

Iris bit her lip. “Umm… I don't know.” She looked to Calum, who was standing by the corner. He nodded, wanting her to figure out. Pleading with her to humanize this baby.

She thought for a second, before saying, “Just a check-up, but could you write it down on a little card and give it to him?” Iris motioned to the man who accompanied her. He looked confused, but sighed and let her continue on anyway.

The doctor nodded and continued the appointment. The doctor pointed out the little one's fingers and toes, took measurements to record the growth, and ran a couple tests to ensure the organs were fine. She told Iris to eat a bit more, making sure the baby gets big and healthy, but other than that everything checked out.

At the end of the appointment, the doctor wrote down the gender on a slip of paper, folding it and handing it over to Calum, without saying a word. The doctor was aware of how off Iris had been lately, so what she wanted she will get. She deserved it after all she lost. He slipped the paper into his pocket, vowing to himself to check it later when he's alone. When they got back to the car, Cal offered to buy them lunch, and Iris didn't oppose.

“Hey Cal?” He turned to her, viewing her from behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah?”

She looked down at her hands on her belly before gazing back at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. Something he rarely saw. “Thank you for taking me today. And thank you for taking the paper. I'm not ready to find out the gender… yet. But knowing that you'll know gives me comfort.” A blush rose to her cheeks.

He chuckled, placing a hand on her thigh and rubbing a bit. “Whatever you need me to do to make you comfortable, I'll do it. No worries.”

And for the first time in eight weeks, she didn't worry. She ate a good portion for lunch, took her vitamins like she was supposed to, and ended the night cuddled next to Calum and Duke on the couch at his place. It eased her mind knowing that Calum would do whatever it took to make her happy, especially considering the father of the baby wasn't here anymore. Iris and the baby would be without Eddie, but maybe they wouldn't be alone.

•••

“You okay, Cal?” Luke's voice snapped Calum out of his trance, blinking a few times before turning away from the window to look at his curly best friend.

He nodded. “Yeah, why are you asking?”

“You seem a bit off, that's all.”

Calum knew he was acting weird. They left for their promotional tour that morning and he didn't know when he would be back in California. It could've been a couple weeks, or it could've been at least a month. “Just… worried, really.”

Luke nodded, understanding. “Worried about Iris?”

“Yeah,” Calum confirmed. “I want her to take care of herself. She seems to do better when I'm there, and I don't want anything to happen to the baby.”

“You know…” Luke debated on what he was going to say. “I know you love her, we all do, and we want her to be okay, but it's not your baby. Some things she has to do on her own.”

Calum turned his body to his friend, now fully facing the tall man. “What do you mean by that?”

Luke huffed but tried to hide it. “You aren't the baby's father… when that baby is born you don't need to—”

“Let me stop you there,” interrupted Calum, “I'm not trying to be the baby's dad. I'm trying to be Iris's friend because in case you didn't remember, the only close friend she had before me fuckin’ died and now she's left alone to raise her first kid. If I can help Iris out with her needs than I will, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of the band. They can be to separate things, ya know? And that's what friends do, they help. For fucks sake, all I want is for that little girl to be okay, doesn't mean I'm trying to be her dad.” With a grunt, he turned back to face the window, watching the clouds pass by.

Luke was trying to think of a way to respond, and possibly apologize for his poor choice of words, when he stopped in his tracks. “Wait, did you say it's a girl?”

Calum quickly turned to Luke, his eyes widening. No one was supposed to know, not yet. New until the birth. Jesus, even Iris didn't know, and she's the one carrying the kid.

He stumbled on his words before saying, “Fuck— just forget about it, alright? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go use the restroom and worry in peace.” With that, he stood and squeezed between Luke and the seat in front of them before walking to the airplane's bathroom.

Michael slowly turned around, looking at Luke between the chairs. “Smooth, Lucas,” he teased.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it was either going to be me or Ashton who said it, and I know from my own personal shit that Ashton is way more blunt than me. That could've been a lot worse.”

“If you say so, Hemmings. Anyway, considering we know it's a girl now, what should I get Iris for her baby shower?”

•••

Iris survived the few weeks without Calum, befriending the girlfriends of his bandmates and trying to get closer to the ladies she worked with. Matt offered her a position at the studio, knowing she could use the job during the time being. Though she wasn't qualified yet to work with the equipment by herself yet, she'd do just fine as an assistant to Matt.

She made an effort to put herself out there, knowing she couldn't rely on Calum being her only close friend when he was constantly touring. That meant she had to grow closer to the ladies at the studio, and befriending the girlfriends was a plus. Matt was helpful, and he had a family of his own, so he and his wife helped Iris pick out the crib and other products she needed.

She even wanted to have a gender reveal and a baby shower. She thought about inviting her family down to LA and having a celebration. She finally felt happy to become a mother, even if Eddie was gone. The only issue with celebrating was that Iris was trying to put in as many hours as possible with her new position as an assistant before going on maternity leave, ensuring she'd have enough money to support her and her baby before she went back on the job months later. This meant she worked until she was a bit past seven months. She had plans of setting up some sort of baby shower now that she was on maternity leave, but she needed to rest for a second.

She was at Calum's house, almost eight months pregnant when she felt the craving. She wanted something cheap, fast food would do. Duke was resting on her lap, having grown protective of the mom-to-be and the little one in her belly. “Cal,” she called out. Moments later he stuck his head into the living room; he had been in the bedroom putting away clothes.

“What's up?” he questioned.

She jutted her bottom lip out, ready to pout to get her way. “Can I borrow your car? I'm hungry.” It wasn't uncommon that she'd borrow the car for fifteen minutes, driving it to the nearby store or fast food places, bringing back enough food for both of them. Sometimes Calum would take her, and sometimes he'd go by himself to get her the meal she was craving, but right now he was busy with chores and wanted to finish cleaning up around the place.

He smiled and nodded, motioning to the coffee table. “My keys are in the bowl right there. What're you gonna get?”

She shrugged, pushing herself up off the couch and grabbing his keys. “I think maybe Taco Bell. It's such bad food but it's what this baby needs right now.”

Calum laughed at this, shaking his head at the woman. “Alright, well get a twelve pack of tacos and hurry back, I'm hungry too! Be safe!” With that, he went back to his chores.

Iris hopped into his car, adjusting the seat to fit her round tummy. She took off, heading towards the Taco Bell that was no more than seven minutes away. She thought about how soon she'd be having her baby, and she worried that she wasn't ready. She'd done a couple classes, set up an almost finished nursery in her guest room, and bought enough neutral toned onesies for the kid (and a few dinosaur ones, an adorable fluffy pink tutu, and a couple overalls that look like they would fit dolls). Maybe it was time she found out the gender. Invite over the co-workers, the bandmates, their girls, and her parents. Have a small gender reveal and baby shower all in one. Or maybe, she'd just ask Calum. He was the only one who knew, and he'd tell her in a heartbeat. He was good about doing what she asked; if she needed anything from him, he was there, and she didn't know why. She didn't know what was so special about her that made him stick around, especially considering her hectic life. But no matter all the times he could have left, he didn't. And it only drew her in more. She was thankful that he tried hitting on her all those months ago, and part of her wishes that they did get to be flirty and hook up that night. Then, the morning after they could have talked for hours about their lives before planning another date. Then another, and another. He gave her a love that Eddie didn't, despite the fact that Eddie was actually her boyfriend. It felt different with Calum.

Though, Iris had to remember what Ashton told her the last time they had a get-together. “Cal can't become a dad yet.” When the baby comes, Iris knew she would have to distance herself. The boys were right, the baby would not be his problem or responsibility. It was purely hers. She knew that the boys were not trying to be harsh. They were her friends, they loved her and she loved them. Calum isn't dating Iris, and he had told the boys time and time again that he was not interested in dating her. The boys thought that Calum would need to put himself first, then the band next, and if he was taking care of that baby then what would happen to the band? Iris wouldn't want to get in the way. But for now, she was enjoying her lazy days with him, hanging out in his living room and coming together with his — now their — friends for movie and pizza nights.

Iris was making a left turn, getting close to the plaza area with the small food joints, when she heard a honk. It pulled her out of her thoughts, instantly crowding her mind with a new fear. The second slowed down, almost freezing, as she looked to her right to see a car entering the intersection, running the red light that was above them.

It was 5pm when he got the call. Her emergency contacts were made aware of what happened, but she begged the paramedics to also call Cal.

Iris was hit in the intersection, spinning out and damaging Calum's car beyond repair. When the ambulance arrived they immediately decided to rush her to the emergency room, noticing her belly and they knew of the damage that could have been done to the baby. She was awake but in pain. Both mentally and physically, worrying about the ache in her midsection, afraid that this one little accident could have taken the life of her child.

Calum was rushing more than he had when Eddie passed. He had to run to Ashton's house to get a ride to the hospital, Ash offering to take him. He thought of the possibility of losing Iris, and he honestly wanted to cry. She had become a staple in his life over the time they'd known each other, and he didn't want to lose her yet. It hit his heart in a way no loss had ever had before, and he quickly became well aware that he had to face those feelings as soon as he knew she was okay.

When the boys made it to the hospital he saw the commotion of wheeling Iris to some sort of surgery room, and Calum panicked. He rushed over, and she noticed him, telling the paramedics this was the man she called.

He looked at her body, which had been hastily dressed in a hospital gown, and feared the worst. The baby.

“Cal, they're doing a C section,” Iris told him as he tried to keep up with the wheels of the bed she was being pushed on. Her voice was smaller than ever, breathy and trembling.

“What's wrong? Is everything okay? Are you—” He wanted to fucking scream.

She shook her head, tears falling onto her cheeks. “I don't know, I don't know what's going to happen,” she cried. He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Cal, if anything does happen, if I lose them, I just—”

“Her.”

Iris gave him a confused look.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Ashton watched from the end of the hallway. “It's a girl, Iris. You're going to have a beautiful baby girl and she's going to make it. She's going to be strong, just like her momma, okay? She's going to make it.”

The tears feel more. “I trust you, Cal.” Those were the last words she could get out before being rushed into a different room, a nurse keeping Calum out. He wanted to punch a wall, he was so anxious. He felt a hand grasping shoulder, turning to see Ashton. Without a word Ashton pulled him into a hug, holding him tight and securely. The doctors would protect Iris and that little girl, and Ashton would protect his friend.

•••

Four hours later, Iris was holding a tiny girl in her arms. Her parents, who came as fast as they could, met the baby along with Eddie’s two sets of parents, and they took turns going in the room to see her as Calum waited. Iris had a couple broken bones, and bruises littered her body, but the baby was okay. Born about a month early, but she was alive and, for the most part, healthy.

The boys and their girlfriends had all joined Calum, waiting until they were given the clear to see her.

“I get it now,” Michael had told him during the wait, none of them at the time knowing if Iris or the baby would be alright. “It's easy to tell you to not get attached when she's fine. But now we don't know if they'll be okay, and it hurts.”

Luke reached out to hold onto Calum's arm. “I'm sorry for saying you shouldn't prioritize her. We all are.”

“The way you were there for her today… I know you love her, Cal. We shouldn't get in the way of that,” added Ashton.

Calum sighed, looking up from his shaking hands. “I tried so hard to not grow feelings for her, to just be a friend, because that's what she needed. But today just showed that I don't know what I would do if I lost her, or that baby. I don't know how to do this whole ‘love’ thing, especially not with a kid, and it scares the living fuck out of me, but…”

“You love her, and that baby. And that's okay. Sometimes life hits you when you least expect it. But we're going to support you, and we're going to love that little baby too, even when things get rough,” Luke told him, the rest of the group agreeing.

Eventually, everybody had to leave, considering visiting hours had ended. Iris's mom told Calum he could stay, and after hours of waiting, all the parents left the room, allowing Calum to go and see her.

He opened the door slowly, and a tired Iris greeted him with a smile on her lips. “Hey,” she whispered.

He smiled back, his attention turning to the baby in the clear crib next to her bed. “How is she?” Calum asked, his voice soft despite his worry.

She hummed, thanking God for the baby beside her. “She's beautiful, Cal. Here, come see.” She set up, scooting over on the hospital bed to allow him to sit beside her. She gently scooped up the little baby into her arms, the girl naturally clinging to her mother.

She was tiny, so very small. Her chart read she was 5 pounds and 1 ounce. The beanie on top of her head looked huge on her, and the blanket she was wrapped in practically swallowed her. But she was safe, healthy and here.

Calum reached a finger out to caress her rosy pink cheek, her skin still bits of pink and purple. Eventually, her skin would turn into a tan, matching her mother's and Eddie's. Her eyes were big and brown, but she was too tired to open her eyes and show Calum. Iris knew the baby would inherit her brown eyes, which she inherited from her dad, but a bit of her hoped she'd get Eddie's blue color, which always stood out against warm skin. But, she did have his nose and a dimple on her cheek, and Iris was okay with her being a beautiful mix of both her parents instead of being a carbon copy of her late father.

“She's gorgeous,” he mumbled. She let out a little whine every now and then, but she did cry, even when she was placed into Calum's large arms. “I'm so happy she's okay,” he admitted to Iris, relief taking over.

“She's my little miracle baby. I couldn't be more thankful.”

Calum turned to her. “I'm happy you're okay too. I don't know what I would've done if I lost you.”

She blushed, avoiding eye contact. “Thank you, Cal. For everything. I know it's been a long few months.”

“It's been my pleasure.” He held the little girl to his chest, keeping her warm. “Have you decided on a name yet?” He stroked her cheek again, loving the little coos she let out.

Iris watched Calum hold her girl, her heart pounding in her chest. She never pictured herself becoming a mother so young, and she couldn't believe she spent the first half of her pregnancy so mad at the world, because she fell in love so easily with the tiny child her best friend was holding. There was no warning for how deeply she fell for her baby, and she knew no love would be greater. And then, there was Calum. His love was much more complex. Though, he was there showing her how to fall in love with him every step of the way. She learned from him that falling in love could happen through helping one another out, and being a friend before all else.

She shrugged and looked down at her face. “Rose, I think.”

“Why Rose?” Calum asked out of curiosity.

“Because, her cheeks are so rosy, and it'll remind me that despite all the shit that happened, I got a healthy, beautiful, blushing baby out of it.”

Calum chuckled. “It's beautiful. Cheesy, but beautiful.”

She lightly swatted his arm, giggling brightly. “Well, roses were also Eddie's favorite flower, but I thought that would be even cheesier.”

He shook his head. “Not cheesy at all, I'm just teasing you. Any thoughts on a middle name?”

She shrugged. “I'm not sure. I was thinking… maybe you could pick it?”

Calum was shocked but honored nonetheless. “Me? You sure?” She nodded. “I think… Anahera. It means ‘angel’ in Māori. I remember my mom always called my sister that when we were little. Plus, this little one is an angel, and she’s got an amazing guardian angel watching over her.”

Iris smiled wide. “I love it, Calum. It's perfect.”

“So is she,” he whispered. Iris cuddled into his arm, watching the man she loved hold Rosie Anahera.

Falling in love was not something she was looking for at the beginning of the year. Now, come months later, she was head over heels for the man who tried hitting on her at a party, mother to the most beautiful little girl, and had her best friend as a guardian angel to watch over the mother-daughter duo. The two sat together in mutual understanding that hey, maybe they did love each other. One thing was certain, and that was that they each fell in love with Rosie, and they were ready to show her a love like no other.

So maybe falling in love for Iris began with a little slip-up, resulting in a journey of a pregnancy, but it ended with her and Calum holding what would become their little girl. And she couldn't be happier.

-

Taglist: @flannelpunkcalum @gigglyirwin-main @gigglyirwin @astrosashton @softforcal @singt0mecalum @youngblood199456 @gothliath @bitterbethany @cunnillucas @justacrush @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @heartachecth @glitterprincelu @hereforlukescruff @irwinkitten @converse-luke @c-sainthood

[monicawoe]

12, 16, 21, 25

for the fanfic end of the year asks meme (thanks @slytherkins !)

12. favorite character to write about this year: It’s a tie between Eddie Brock/Venom and Sam Winchester. Venom fics have been incredibly fun to write and I’ve really been enjoying writing more humorous fics which is something I used to struggle with. But with Supernatural in its last season I also had a serious resurgence of need to write all the Sam fics!

21. most memorable comment/review:  “M A X I M U M T O A S T BABYBOI NO.”…which totally makes sense in context. Venom had some difficulties operating the toaster.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read: Definitely The Holy Grail Bird by @denugis  Not just because she wrote this as a gift fic to me, but because it’s easily one of my favorite fics of all times. This is such an insightful look into Sam and addresses the Winchester’s Chuck Problem so cleverly, but more than that it brought me to tears in the best kind of way, the kind of tears that happen when somebody just gets it so spot on and so beautifully that your heart leaps and aches all at the same time.  If you are a Sam Winchester fan, do yourself a favor and read this immediately if you haven’t yet, and if you’ve already read it, then go read it again

16 fic(s) you completed this year (*saving this one for last since it’s a long response!) I completed 17 fics this year, of which 16 were posted–mainly Supernatural, Venom and MCU. This was such an awesome year for collaborations, big-bangs and fic exchanges. I had the opportunity to work with some truly stellar artists who are all total sweethearts, so thanks again to @sketchydean, @sdeeys, @vebirascanvasand of course @quickreaver for bringing my fics to life so beautifully. Thanks also to everybody whose prompts I filled for various events, and big thanks to my amazing betas for saving me from my own bad writing habits

Links, fic summaries, and gorgeous art banners below the cut!

Supernatural:

Lakeside Fishing - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (Sam/Patrick(S5ep7), 4k words)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.   After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Thirteen Taps of The Ivory Beak - Death is a transient thing. The bird knows this, because she herself is both alive and not. Her creator made her this way, not by choice but because of who he is. (a companion piece to de_nugis’ The Holy Grail Bird, 900 words)

Whosoever Holds - Just when Sam Winchester needs it most, Mjölnir returns to him. But is he really worthy? (2k, gen Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers; MCU/SPN crossover)

The Devil You Knew - Brady, not Azazel, had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped. (1k; an alternate version of Sam’s confrontation with Brady in 5x20)

Wednesday - It’s Wednesday. It’s always Wednesday, he thinks, as he stands up and leaves the motel room, not sparing a glance at the other bed. (2k, Mystery Spot boyKing!Sam AU)

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Venom:

Costume Party - Eddie and Venom are invited to a costume party at the museum. While there, they find a mad scientist in the dinosaur wing who is up to no good. (Symbrock, 5k words)

Reckoning Tartare with a Side of Tater Tots - Eddie Brock is writing a story about Will Graham, a man accused of horrific serial murders. But Eddie’s got a feeling Will is innocent, and somebody else is to blame. When Hannibal Lecter invites Eddie to dinner, Venom is surprised by the menu. (2k words; Venom | Hannibal crossover)

The End Times Are Here (But So Are We) - Eddie Brock crashes his motorcycle near Anathema Device’s Jasmine Cottage. She was expecting him, of course. Agnes Nutter’s prophecy had foretold his coming, just in time for the End of Days. (2k words; Venom | Good Omens crossover)

Asunder - (bigbang featuring art by @sdeeys and @vebirascanvas !) Eddie and Venom have grown accustomed to their new life together. They patrol every night, keeping San Francisco just a little safer, and keeping Venom fed. But one night, they’re captured, and separated. Eddie wakes up to find himself imprisoned in a glass cell and, for the first time in six months, completely alone.  (Symbrock, PG-13, 12k words; written for the @symbrockbigbang)

Midnight Snack - Eight hours is way too long to wait until breakfast. Venom makes snacks while Eddie is sleeping. Unfortunately the toaster gives them some issues. (3k words)

They Say It’s Your Birthday - Venom asks Dan to help throw a surprise birthday party for Eddie. (3k words | written for the chocolate box gift exchange)

Marvel/Captain America

Interstitial Light - After Thanos wiped half of life off the planet, the remaining Avengers find a way to reach out to those they lost, using a combination of Stark-Tech, magic and their own memories. Steve makes contact with Bucky, but they spent too many decades apart when Steve was on ice. But there was somebody else who knew Bucky during that time—who trained with him, who knew both the Winter Soldier and James Barnes: Natasha. | 6k, Natasha, Bucky

Stumble and Fall Into You   -   Three months ago, Steve’s world shattered. SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, people he trusted turned out to be enemies, and Bucky, who he thought he’d lost in 1944, had been alive this whole time. Steve tries to get back to some kind of normalcy, but Bucky is always on his mind, and lately he’s been seeing him everywhere. | 5k, Steve/Bucky

—

The 17th fic I completed this year is my Sam Winchester Big Bang fic, which will be posting early next year. I’ve gotten paired with yet another wonderful artist (I think it’s still supposed to be a secret, but it won’t be for long) and am very excited about this collaboration too!

Might as well make this my end of year stats post as well while I’m at it.

Words so far: 247,305 as of end of November, I’ll probably come in close to 280k by end of year. About a third of these words were posted as fics, the rest were prior drafts and a handful of short stories.

Thematically this was a very cathartic and iddy year for me in fic. Venom fandom gave me the opportunity to tackle things in a totally different way which has been incredibly freeing and fun to write, and returning to Supernatural fic had me writing out ideas I’d had on the backburner for years, like with Wednesday and my aforementioned SWBB. Nearly every Sam Winchester fic I write is about autonomy (loss of or reclaiming of) in one way or another but I’d say the two iddiest ones by far from this year were His Soul to Keep and Last Drop. 

I’ve got four WIPs heading into 2020, so here’s to another year of writing!

[tibbygetsrekt]

        Had another one of those crack fic moments! All the f/o’s under one roof would be absolute madness but for a single fic? It’s... survivable. Bon Apetit!

“We’re going to Area 51 boys!’

    Their announcement was met with absolute silence, daylight streaming through the door they’d just burst through. It was as if they’d thrown a grenade into the room and no one was sure if it was live or not.

“Wait… where?’ Frank asked, when no one else wanted to ask the obvious.

“Area. Fifty. One.’ They enunciated each word, still standing in the door as if expecting all of them to get up and get going immediately.

    Silence again. Hannibal staring at them with a politely curious expression but internally he was doing quick math. This level of manic commitment had to be at least three pots of coffee. Czernobog, who had no such reservations, took a long slow drag of his cigarette before swiping his hand across the checkerboard with a sigh and grabbed his hammer.

“What?! No!’ Hannibal snapped at him, refusing to move, fingers tightening on his book before turning his attention back to the figure in the doorway. “Tiberius Rex, sit down.’

“No! Hannibal listen-’

“I will not.’

    Their jaw set, attempting to stare him down before realizing the futility of that and instead looked towards Heavy.

“Bring Sasha, and call the boys!’

“I do not think Ms. Pauling would approve-’

“Too hell with that uptight cunt!’ Sweeney barked, laughing as he darted out of the room.

“That’s the spirit!’ Sending an air five his way, that he swiped at as his long legs took the stairs three at a time, they turned to Dutch. “You coming? I got a plan.’

    They did not have a plan. They were just going to wing it, and hope for the best.

“Tiberius…’ Hannibal slowly stood from the couch, the book placed in his seat. “Why don’t you sit, and we can hear this plan of yours. Frank is a military man, as is Heavy, after a fashion-’

“We can talk on the way, it’s a… twelve-hour drive?’ Waving off the request, they turned their head to the kitchen. “Eddie! EDDIE! Come upstairs, we’re going to go rescue aliens!’

“I thought this wasn’t happening until September or something…’ Frank muttered as he went back to cleaning his guns.

“That’s the beauty of it, that’s months away. They’re only just trying to fortify the base, it’ll be like the Spanish Inquisition!’

“What’s that?’ Sweeney asked, hopping down the last four steps to land with a bang on the floorboards. His shirt was gone, blue streaks curving down from his shoulders, and four slashed across his face. “Where’s my spear?’

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!’

    They laughed, as he looked briefly confused before shrugging it off and going to hunt down his preferred weapon when not using his fists. Laughter was still bubbling out of them when Eddie finally came out of the basement looking disgruntled.

“They’re not wrong, Cannibal.’ Frank shrugged when the rich red-hued eyes landed on him. “Everyone on social media is screaming September, they’re expecting something probably in November. Just think of it as an early birthday present for them.’

“.... I love you.’ Tiberius whispered, even as Eddie tried to figure out what was going on by the conversation currently circling the room.

“Wait, where are we going, darling?’

“Area 51. It’s where they keep all the alien tech,’ when he looked less than enthusiastic, Tiberius sucked air through their teeth before putting on a serious expression. “It’s also where they… did experiments.’

    That was all Eddie needed, his hand lifting to skim over the right side of his face. Hannibal looked like a mix of proud and aghast, stepping around everyone else to take hold of their arm.

“You need to stop this, it was funny but you’re going to get people killed.’ He paused, realizing his stance and his teeth grit together before pushing the frustration away. “A lot of people, very publicly.’

    Hand motioning towards Eddie’s back as he left for the kitchen, and one of Hannibal’s knives.

“It’s the publicly thing that’s bothering you, isn’t it?’ They asked, not bothering trying to pull loose. “We can’t wear masks, Hannibal. That would obscure our vision.’

“Your vision is obviously already obscured.’

“That’s rude, you know I can see just fine without my glasses.’

    When he let go of their arm, they didn’t rub the area despite how tight his grip had been. Instead, they trailed the direction Sweeney had gone, surprised to find Dutch at their heels.

“So… there are aliens at this military facility?’

“Yes. Supposedly. Probably.’ They finally admitted, peeking in a room and finding it empty.  “But isn’t the idea thrilling?’

“I guess it is.’ He was thinking of the money that could be made selling what they found, or even alliances made off world that could be very lucrative. “But we’re driving?’

“Well… I mean I was going to, but I don’t think that we’d all fit in my Ford Focus.’ Frowning as they finally admitted the problem out loud. “Just getting Heavy and Sweeney into Odysseus is a struggle. And I don’t think you guys would be comfortable sitting on each other’s laps…’

    Cut off by running smack into Sweeney’s chest, they caught their balance, beaming up at him.

“So wait, aliens? Alright.’

    Almost as if he were still trying to convince himself. To be honest, it sounded like a laugh, and that’s all he needed for a reason. Sweeney was more self-destructive than Tiberius who was grinning up at him.

“If you’re going, then you will be bringing bottles of water.’

    Tiberius’ eyes rolled. That meant Hannibal wasn’t going, not that they were all that upset at the idea. It was his choice whether or not he was going to, and they were going to respect that. To be fair if any alien in the place was telepathic it might be better if Hannibal didn’t go or they might be more terrified of the rescue party.

“And you, drink now.’

    A glass of water entered their vision, and they took it out of habit. Hannibal said drink, eat, they usually did. He was more aware of the last time Tiberius had then they were. But even as the rim of the glass met their lips, they paused, pulling it away to stare at the water suspiciously. Actually, given his current stance on-

“Ow!’

    Glass falling to the floor, they grabbed their arm, turning a betrayed expression to Hannibal who didn’t look the least bit chagrined. But they had a high tolerance, it was their saving grace, Tiberius thought to themself even as they felt their head going fuzzy.

“Rude! Go eat yourself.’ They muttered, unable to swipe at him as they felt their body listing to the side.

    Sweeney caught them, scowling at Hannibal as he bent to lift them. Arms hanging loosely, head lolled back, he ground his teeth as Hannibal gave the unconscious burden a quick look over before going back into the living room. The Irishman was hot on his heels, frustration making his voice rough.

“Why in the name of Bran did you do that?!’

“When was the last time you saw them sleep?’ Hannibal countered cooly.

    He didn’t have an answer for that. That wasn’t really his category. He knew anger, and he knew drinking, and… Hannibal was staring at him as he slowly lowered himself back onto the couch, patting the cushion next to him. Czernobog let out a sigh through his nose as he let the hammer arc down to rest on the floor, plopping back into his chair and setting up the game again.

“So we’re not going?!” Eddie sounded outraged, and Hannibal leveled a cautious look at him.

“To Area 51, where the aliens are?’

“… Yes?’

“Edward, there is no Area 51 for us to go to. They were having… a hysteric episode.’

“Ah… those can be nasty.’

    The tension was slow to leave the broad shoulders, but it did, even as his fingers rolled the knife hilt against his palm. Moving towards Sweeney, he ignored the way the taller man’s arms shifted, trying to subtly move Tiberius out of reach.

“What did you give them?’

“A mild sedative is all.’ Hannibal picked up his book, leaning back on the couch. “They’ll wake in a few hours and most likely apologize for their overly energetic outburst earlier.’

“They do that a lot.” Eddie hummed, a small smile playing across his lips before turning back the way he’d come into the event. “Tell them that they need to come down later on, I’ve a new outfit I want to size on them.’

    Still looking disgruntled about the whole thing, Sweeney kicked at the coffee table to move it before half falling onto the couch. The only reaction from Tiberius was a sleepy little grunt, which Sweeney felt a flash of guilt over. Heels slamming down on the coffee table, taking a smidge of pleasure at the scowl that flashed across Hannibal’s face.

“So how long has it been since they slept then?’

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ve been around far longer than the rest of you.’ He was smug about that, considering Tiberius’ subconscious aversion to commitments.

“So you just magically know when she’s been up too long?’

    Hannibal leveled a look at the irate Irishman, and then cast an only slightly softer look down at the unconscious form in his arms.

“Not magically no, but you get to know a person. They need rest.’ Attention turning back to his book, dismissing the rest of the room, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “If you can manage to stop howling.’

“Wait, so now we’re not going?’ Dutch complained, falling into a chair with a huff of irritation.

“No. Tiberius would not hunt aliens.’ Czernobog answered, already lighting another cigarette even though Hannibal glared at him as he did so. A low grating chuckle rumbled out of his chest. “They would hunt monsters, do hunt monsters.’

    A pointed look at Dutch had the man flushing, mouth opening to retort only to have his mouth snap shut when Hannibal gave a sharp hiss. Of course he wasn’t the only one that Czernobog looked at, and he didn’t exclude himself. But he was comfortable with being dark, a nicotine stained finger moving a black checker piece, as Heavy sat down across from him to study the board before moving one of the white ones.

“She’s got a type.’ Frank said mockingly when it was clear Dutch was fuming. “But at least she doesn’t try to change us, or try to make us feel bad about the things we do. So, I’m alright with it.’

“I don’t require changing.” Dutch snapped, arms crossing over his chest as he slumped in the chair, ankles stacking.

    No one argued with him, mostly because it was clear he was spoiling for a fight, secondarily because too much fighting meant waking the unconscious mess that was cuddling closer to Sweeney’s chest, smearing blue paint on their face. Slowly the room quieted again, as if Tiberius hadn’t kicked the door in not twenty minutes ago and set the lot of them on edge one way or another.

“Maybe we should offer a trip? They might like going woods walking?’ Sweeney muttered, chin resting on their curls. “How long until the heat drops off?’

“Not til after their birthday, so maybe as a gift for Mabon. It may be cooler in September.’

“Yeah, that sounds about right.’ He paused when Tiberius made a noise, not a word by any means, but it was something. When they settled again, Sweeney smirked. “How much did you give them?’

“Enough to drop a small horse, they metabolize too quickly otherwise.’

“…. A houseful of monsters indeed.’

[eene-fangirl]

May’s Visit (An Ed, Edd n Eddy/Wallace and Gromit Crossover)

Note: This is another crossover of Ed, Edd n Eddy and Wallace and Gromit the Curse of the Were-Rabbit. This is based on the scene where Lady Tottington visits Wallace when the moon appears. 

From upstairs, Ed answered the door. “May! This is a surprise! How may I help you?” Edd and Eddy heard Ed greet excitedly from upstairs.

“May? What is she doin’ here?” Eddy grabbed at his hair in frustration. They didn’t have time for distraction. They’d already had enough today.

Edd grasped his bunny ears, anxiously. “She can’t see me!”

“Duh!”

“Wait, maybe she is only here for Ed!” Edd suggested.

“If she was here for Ed then she would’a gone to his place!” Eddy reminded him. Clearly, Edd’s bunny brain affected Edd’s Einstien super intelligence. 

Edd’s eyes dipped guiltily to the floor. Perhaps that was the wrong tone of voice to speak to him. “Oh, you’re right.”

Just then, Ed opened the door to the basement, immediately alerting the two Eds.

“May wants to talk to us all,” Ed said to them, frowning. Obviously, the news didn’t sound good. 

“But how do I conceal these bunny ears?” Eddy grasped the furry ears in a panic. 

Looking around the basement, Eddy again whacked himself upside the head. Clearly, they weren’t all Einsteins. 

“Stuff ‘em inside your hat!” Eddy suggested already going to work. Edd briefly struggled but eventually let Eddy take care of him.

“What do you think, Ed?” Eddy asked holding a finger to his mouth.

Edd couldn’t see how funny his hat was from his friends’ perspective. With his large furry rabbit ears stuffed inside his hat, it looked like a beehive. 

Ed snapped his finger and stuffed a winter hat over Edd’s head. “If May asks just tell her you were cold!”

Anything was better than the rabbit ears. Collecting himself, Edd went to greet May. Even though the front door was left open, May didn’t come inside, remaining outside. She only briefly stared at Edd’s winter hat but clearly, that was not her worries. Edd’s smile immediately vanished when he noticed the pain lurking in May’s eyes. 

“Hello, May! Happy Birthday!” Edd beamed trying to make the girl smile, to no avail. “Oh dear, has the town changed their mind on giving you permission to let you use the mansion grounds for your party?”

May shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I’m still having my party and the vegetable competition at the Peach Creek mansion, but... you guys sorta let me down,” May’s voice cracked, unable to look the three boys in the eyes.

The Eds looked at one another, an obvious knowing.

Ed touched May’s shoulder. “I suppose we have, bunny.”

May looked into Ed’s eyes. “Did you lie that you had the beast locked up?”

“Uh... well, no, we didn’t lie, if you would say, we may have fibbed... but uh...” Ed struggled to find an answer. He even looked at Edd who was very swimming in his own shame. 

When they were at the emergency town meeting at the church only a couple of days ago, Ed would not have it when the mayor proclaimed that he’d have to cancel all evening activities, including May’s plans for her birthday, just for safety precautions. After Ed announced that he and his friends would catch the were-rabbit, that was the moment Ed and May shared their first kiss. 

Tears crept into May’s eyes. “The mayor stopped by as we were decorating today, along with the entire town, and he said that the beast made another attack last night!” May stared at Eddy. “Eddy, your brother is going to kill the were-rabbit!”

Edd’s entire face paled. Immediately, Eddy placed his hand on Edd’s back for support. “What?”

“He showed up! And the mayor asked him...”

“And he said yes?!” Eddy asked in disbelief. He still kept a close watch on Edd who was horrible pale in his silence. How could he forget about his brother? Yes, his brother was there when he and Ed witnessed their dear friend transform into the beast, but he thought his brother was unconscious. Just showed what he knew!

Tears dripped from May’s eyes. “No, he asked me! I’m sorry! I didn’t have much of a choice! I’ve never had this opportunity and I...”

Suddenly, the winter hat started rising on Edd’s head. Grasping it, Edd just had time to look into the sky to witness the full moon appearing from behind the clouds. 

Eddy snapped the winter hat below his chin but he knew it wouldn’t do much in the end. Noticing, Ed closed the door only a bit as May kept on talking. She was so distracted that she didn’t even notice Edd’s hand turn into a pair of furry rabbit paws!

“Oh, dear!” Edd’s voice panicked.

“Come on, hurry!” Eddy whispered in desperation. Could they run into the kitchen?

“... The decision was so difficult, Ed,” she looked up at the panic-stricken young man who could barely look her in the eyes. “I liked you, Ed. I thought you would never lie to me!”

Now, Edd’s feet ripped right through his favorite shoes, huge and furry rabbit feet!

“Eddy!”

“Ed, get rid of her!” Eddy whispered in a loud voice over to Ed.

“Oh, well bye then!” Ed was hardly paying attention, just closing the door in May’s face. Then May reached out stopping the door. 

“Wait, Ed! I’m not finished! I have more to tell you! And I have a question for Double Dee!” She was trying to turn her neck to look around the door. Luckily, she didn't notice the strange whimpers and whispers coming from Edd and Eddy. There was no way they could run into the kitchen without being seen.

“I-I’m unable to talk now, May!” Edd struggled to speak as his teeth turned into the large buckteeth of the were-rabbit. It hurt. But he didn’t want to alert anyone.

Sweat poured off Ed’s face. He knew that he was going to regret this but he had to get rid of May. “We could really use some time to ourselves, May! BYE!” And he shoved the door right in her face. “Thanks for coming!” he called through the cracks of the door.

The young woman stared aghast at what just happened. Was that it? Maybe Ed wasn’t who she thought he was. Once again, her sisters were. What was she? Stupid? Oh, this was turning out to be the worst birthday ever! 

Just then May was alerted by a smash from inside Edd’s house. And the Eds were shouting things she couldn’t make out. It sounded like they were in trouble.

Turning back to the house, suddenly Edd’s face smashed against the window. He spat a raspberry at her. Right when that happened Ed and Eddy pulled him away and closed the drapes. 

Shocked, May broke down into tears. She ran, sobbing down the streets of the neighborhood.

Stepping out from the shadows, Bro prepared his gun, sneering a horrid smile at Edd’s house.

Inside, Edd was in midst of a panic attack, howling in pain. It was happening. His voice was going to leave. His mind was going to erase into the muddled mind of the rabbit and there was nothing he could do. But maybe he could fight it, as Eddy told him.

Ed and Eddy took cover by the doorway, watching in pure horror. No, he didn’t want his own friends to fear him!

“You two have to help me!” He dived at Eddy, pinning him against the door. “Please, Eddy! Hide me!”

What if this was his final night alive? Would he ever get the chance to tell Eddy the feelings that he’d longed for so long? And he had a feeling that Eddy did, too.

“Eddy, I l-”

That was when his voice cut off. He fell to the floor, the transformation now taking over, the hair growing all over his body, until he was enlarging, stretching out from his clothes. 

That was when Ed and Eddy took both ends of the carpet and heaved him through the kitchen to the back door.

But it was too late.

Edd was now the were-rabbit.

And someone was stomping their boot against the front door.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 9: big waves and muddy waters

Tuesday, October 9th, 1990

“Alright, New Guy, Mark heard that the Off Ramp needs a band for the 22nd. We doing this or what?”

God, Stone, way to be an asshole about it, but I’m excited enough by the idea that I’m not even going to give him shit. I just hope Eddie says yes. I mean, he’s technically still here “auditioning” for a few more days, but let’s face it, he’s amazing, we fucking need him. Thankfully, Eddie’s not fazed.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he bobs his head, looking at Stone with laser focus and worrying his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. But just like that, his face clouds over and he’s looking down again with his forehead all screwed up. “That is, if you guys decide… I mean…”

“No, you're in, for sure,” I cut him off, and he shoots me a grateful grin.

“Alright,” he says eagerly. “So then, we’ve got like four songs, no name, and two weeks. I like those odds.”

Stone nods approvingly and launches into a logistical monologue, planning out the next two weeks of our lives down to the minute. The fact that Eddie won Stone over this fast is pretty mind-blowing, even if Stone’s still got kind of a shitty attitude about the guy. We spent today messing around with the song Eddie called “Once,” making it a little less funky, a little heavier to match what he’d written for it. And he’d already come up with lyrics for “E Ballad” before he flew out here, these insanely powerful lyrics, and started calling it “Black.” I’ve got a few melody ideas rattling around that I’m going to bounce off them tomorrow. It’s already been a crazy productive day or two and we’ve still got like a week left before he goes home for a few days to tie up loose ends. I gotta be honest, I’ve never been more pumped about a project. Stone and I seem to have shelved a lot of our shit from the Love Bone drama, and Eddie’s just like this incredible injection of creative energy. It’s hard not to get too excited, but in the back of my mind, there’s still this voice telling me to slow down, hang back, wait for the shoe to drop. That’s how it’s always worked for me so far, anyway.

Over Stone’s voice, I catch a snippet of Lucy and Cora’s conversation, even though they abandoned our table and are now over at the bar. It’s like my ears are trained to pick up Lucy’s voice now over anything else, like I went too long without talking to her and my senses are letting me know about it. They’re each drinking a beer and Cora’s got her back to me so I can see Lucy watching her face intently. It was something about the exasperation with which Lucy just said “what obligation?” that made me look up. I didn’t hear the rest of it, but I can hazard a guess, especially given the patient but strained look on Lucy’s face while she nods and listens to the answer, whatever it is. I don’t know how that fucker Alex managed to screw up tonight but I’ve lived down the hall from them long enough to know this kind of shit is the tip of the iceberg. I can’t for the life of me figure out why Cora puts up with him. She’s such a little spitfire. I’ll be honest, I sort of hated her when I first met her -- maybe hate’s a strong word, it’s not like when I first met Stone. That’s not too far off the mark, though. She’s like a female Stone, always with a smartass comment for everything, always has to be the smartest one in the room. But she’s grown on me a lot in the last few months. You have to be some kind of badass or other to pick up and move across the country and do the kind of work she does, with the kind of energy she has for it. And she’s so protective of Lucy it’s scary, which is what really won me over. So what’s someone like that doing worrying about “obligation” to a useless motherfucker like Alex who treats her like she doesn’t matter?

There’s a break in their conversation as Cora finishes the last of her drink. I catch Lucy’s eye and I’m immediately rewarded with that look. That one that says, “wait until we’re alone.”

Fuck yes. Forget the rest of this shit, let’s get this thing rolling, let’s get home!

Seriously. I’ve been with her for almost five months now and she’s still full of surprises. I let the shy thing fool me at first, but I get her now, or at least I think I do. And it’s not like the shyness is an act -- it’s genuine. She really is an awkward mess around people she doesn’t know very well (except Eddie, who’s even shyer, and she’s already sort of taken him under her wing, which makes her even more awesome). And no matter how comfortable she gets around me, I can still make her blush at the drop of a hat, which is completely fuckin’ adorable considering that the girl’s a total freak. Under that shy exterior, under all that sweetness and light… the sex is intense. And she’s got all these tattoos, which totally disrupt that whole good girl vibe she has going, especially since you don’t even know most of them are there until she takes her clothes off. Seven, to be exact. I’ve traced them all with my fingers, studied them up close, sketched them endlessly, admired the artistry, but mostly I get distracted admiring the canvas…

Fuck, I need to get her alone. 

But I gotta get Eddie back up to the apartment first, I still haven't given him a key and I don’t have my spare. I put some cash on the table to pay for Lucy and me as the guys are divvying up the bill, and manage to slip away as Stone and Mike argue about the math.

“Hey, you two ready to go?” I ask the girls, hoping my voice sounds pretty level. Lucy’s toned down the look a little bit, but not nearly enough to be inconspicuous (bless her tipsy cute ass), and Cora gets the hint right away.

“Let me visit the little chemist’s room and then yeah,” Cora stifles a grin and ducks down the hallway to the bathroom. I grab my girlfriend by the hand and start tugging her outside.

“What about the rest of our stray pets?” Lucy laughs, pretending to drag her heels.

I give her a gentle pull and she loses her balance, running into my chest, which makes it easier for me to say softly in her ear, “you think I give a fuck?”

There’s the look again. She lets me lead her outside onto the sidewalk. Once we’re alone outside, she primly tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and gives me the world’s most innocent smile as I pull her in closer.

“That’s better,” I whisper, brushing the softness of her cheek with the back of my hand. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Mm hmm,” she nods, sliding her hands into my back pockets and sinking into me, taking my lower lip in her teeth and making me come after it.

***

I get back from the bathroom and find the group milling about near the door of the cafe. Well, most of the group -- Stone and Mike are talking shop, Eddie’s standing off to the side studying his sneakers, and Jeff and Lucy are… outside on the sidewalk, glued together at the mouth, of course. God, they’re fucking adorable. Normally their cuteness makes me happy, but the way my night’s going, it’s getting under my skin. Not like that’s not their fault, though, so I’m kind of glad they’re outside. I’m already glazing over listening to the two guitar nerds, so if we’re all just standing around aimlessly, I’d rather get to know the new guy better. We’ve really only talked for a few minutes so far about my stupid button, and in record time I’d made an embarrassing ass of myself by oversharing my problems. The poor thing. He handled it well, though.

“You look lost,” I tease him, but I instantly regret my word choice, because he really does.

“Nah, I’m okay, just waiting for Jeff,” he says to the floor with a bashful smile, hands shoved in his pockets. It’s an odd smile, the way it dawns sort of slowly, but those outsized cheekbones make for massive dimples that give him away even if he’s barely smiling at all.

“I think we’re going to have to crash that party, bud,” I laugh, glancing at our friends.

“Ahhh, uh-uh,” Eddie rumbles, shaking his head emphatically, smiling a little bigger but still looking down. He’s the funniest thing. Shoulders hunched over in his too-big jacket, head ducked down in his backwards baseball cap, like he's incognito and doesn't want anyone to notice him, let alone talk to him. How is a frontman so damn shy? I listened to his tape with Lucy and the guys when it arrived over the summer, and like everyone else, I was dumbstruck by this huge, powerful, intense voice. I don’t know what I expected him to be like, but it’s safe to say I figured he’d be more intense in person as well. And, I don’t know, taller or something? Not like I’m one to talk. Before I can think of anything else to say to him, Stone walks up behind me and interrupts my thoughts with a hand on my back.

“Hey, Red, I’m heading out. You guys gonna get home okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” I lean back against him and bump him in the chest with my shoulder blade. “I think we can handle six blocks without a chaperone.”

“Fine, be that way,” he says in my ear. I can't see his face from here but I can hear that eye roll a mile away. “Come get your shit out of my car?”

As he nudges me off his chest and I turn to face him, he brushes my hair back over my shoulder, then seems to change his mind, taking one lock back to the front again. He twirls it, gently tugs on it a couple times, allows his fingers slide through the ends as he lets it go. He’s been like this all night. Hovering, fussing, studying. I wish he wouldn’t. I feel like I’m under a microscope.

“Don't tell me what to do,” I retort, although truthfully I'm not in the mood to spar tonight, so I follow him obediently instead of launching my usual attacks. I’m too tired for that, and anyway, I still feel guilty as hell for interrupting the guys in the middle of their practice, even though Stone swore up and down that he didn't mind.

“That's not how this works, okay?”

I keep turning those words over in my head as we trail unnoticed past Jeff and Lucy and down the street to his car. Not how this works. The way he looked at me when he said it, like he was trying to pin me to the wall with his eyes to make sure I heard him. I’m not sure what brought that on, other than feeling sorry for his dumbass friend for getting herself into such a ridiculous situation. And it’s not that I’m not grateful that he dropped everything to help me. Of course I am, overwhelmingly so. It’s just that the whole thing was so fucking embarrassing that I’m not going to give him the opportunity to bring it up ever again.

“Your bag and your, uh… deer huntin’ finery,” he drawls the last two words in that stupid Southern accent he thinks he knows how to do as he holds out the awful orange bridesmaid dress, making me yank it out of his grip.

“Much obliged,” I grumble, not really in the mood.

“Hey, I...” he says, not quite in his normal voice but no longer in the ridiculous accent, and he reaches out and gently catches my arm in his hand before I can pull it all the way back. He frowns as he massages my elbow for a second, like he’s trying to buy time as he figures out what he’s supposed to say to his pitiful disaster of a friend. All he comes up with is, “hey, call me tomorrow, okay?”

I don’t know, maybe it’s not pity in his eyes...maybe it’s just concern, almost the same way he was looking at me back at the terminal. I know he’s asking me to tell him how it goes tonight. I wish he wouldn’t do that. It’s making my stomach do a backflip as I realize I can’t ignore the reality of going home for much longer.

I reach up with my free hand and hold his cheek, then lean in and give him an exaggerated reflection of the intense expression on his face. His laughter comes out in an exasperated huff, followed by another eye roll.

“Yeah. I will, Stone.”

I say I'll call him, but what would I really tell him? That when I get home, the evidence will confirm that my own boyfriend doesn’t give enough of a shit about me to remember when I’m flying back into town? That it was just a stupid fantasy to think he’d ever be the kind of guy who picks his partner up at the airport? That he may as well not even have noticed I was gone? That this doesn’t even surprise me anymore because the fault lines have been getting wider and wider since we moved to Seattle, and I’m afraid we don’t have anything in common anymore? That I think all of these things all the time and feel horrible about them, but I can’t ever bring myself to break up with him, even for something like what he did tonight, because as thoughtless as he can be sometimes, he still moved across the fucking country to be with me, to support my stupid dream? No one wants to hear that sob story. I’m not going to lay that on poor Stone. He did me a favor. I owe him one already. Best not make things worse.

“You’d better, Red,” he says, fidgeting with my hair one more time and starting to relax back into his usual smartass demeanor as we go back to the entrance of Cyclops, where Eddie and Mike have now joined Jeff and Lucy on the sidewalk. The lovebirds have finally acknowledged everyone else’s presence and Jeff looks like he’s trying and failing not to look at us like we’re the world’s biggest buzzkill. “You fuckers ready to go or what?”

“Not as ready as you fuckers,” Stone snickers before shouting in pain as Mike punches him in the arm.

We wave goodbye to Stone and Mike, and Jeff and Lucy set off down the sidewalk towards home, leaving Eddie and me to follow them. He gives me that small smile again. Well, not really me, it’s more like he’s smiling at his shoes again, but there’s no one else around so I assume it’s meant for me.

“So, uhm, can I follow you home, or what?” he mumbles through tight lips, his smile widening until he’s grinning kind of maniacally at the ground. Christ, he has the world's biggest dimples.

“Holy shit you were right, it's totally a pickup line,” I laugh, never having heard someone ask it of me before he did tonight, twice.

“Sure sounds like it,” he chuckles. “I mean, I think I know where I'm going, but I’ve only been there once and it was light out, so…”

“Ohh, you're staying with Jeff?” He nods. “Haha, yeah, come on. It's just a straight shot this way.”

We start walking after our friends, who are almost a block ahead of us now.

“So you live down the hall, right?”

“From Jeff? Yeah.”

“Cool,” he nods again, “neighbors.”

Definitely a man of few words. We walk in silence for a short while before I can think of something else to ask him that doesn't feel like I’m intruding on his meditative focus on the sidewalk. “So it sounds like it's going well, huh? Your audition, I mean. If you guys are already planning a show.”

“I think it's going fucking fantastically, yeah,” he says, finally looking up at me. His absurdly blue eyes are electrified all of a sudden. Oh. So there’s that intensity I heard on the tape. “In fact, I don't even really wanna stay at the apartment, I kind of just want to sleep at the studio again, you know? Not break the momentum?” He chews his lower lip and nods to himself.

“Yeah, it’s too bad you have to go back to San Diego so soon, what’s taking you back?”

“Oh, just work, promised I’d do a shift, and I could use the money for the move.”

“Where’s that?”

“Oh, uh, gas station. Graveyard shift.”

There’s that crazy grin again, and even though it’s still angled down at our feet, I feel myself returning it. It’s pretty infectious. “Night owl, huh?”

“Ahh,” he rumbles again, “just not much of a sleeper, really. You?”

“Same. Well, on the insomnia part. Definitely not a night owl though. I’m pretty much solar powered, except for lately.”

“Why, what’s happened lately?” He glances back up at me with a deep crease between his eyebrows and his fingers torturing his little soul patch.

Shit, Cora, he doesn’t want to hear more about your problems, why did you do that? He’s just being polite again, the poor thing. “Oh, uh, I’ve just been waking up a lot earlier than dawn the last couple months, so I guess the solar hypothesis is out the window.”

“Maybe, uhm, you’re just wired to be on a different time zone, ya know, it’s always sunrise somewhere,” he offers helpfully, his eyebrows tugging up in the middle, almost at a ninety-degree angle, his mouth curling into a tiny smile. It’s a total wiseass expression, challenging, which I didn’t expect from someone so shy, but it’s also warm and encouraging somehow.

“Great,” I laugh, “just drop me on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and I’ll be all set.” Honestly, that would solve most of my shit anyway.

“Yeah okay, but you know I'm gonna have to follow you there too,” he chuckles before scowling downward again and stammering. “I mean, for the ocean part, uh, not like, for… not like I’d --”

“You looking to run away too?” I ask him carefully, trying to help him out of the hole he’s digging without laughing. “You just got here.”

“Nah,” he finally finds some actual words, “just, I really love surfing, so that’s pretty much my ideal right there.”

“Surfing? Oh, then we definitely have to run away, there’s not a lot of that in Seattle, bud.”

“Mmm,” he nods, looking thoughtful. “You ever tried it?”

“Nope. Even less of it in Appalachia, I’m afraid. And it always seemed like a pretty dude-heavy pastime.”

“Hey, now we gotta go!” he grins at me with that fierce light in his eyes again. “Somewhere way out in the Pacific, somewhere really warm. That’s where the big waves are. The Polynesians, man, they figured it all out in the first place, that’s where it started, and it used to be more egalitarian. See, the missionaries, they didn’t know what to make of all these naked people running around with surfboards, especially the women, so it kinda became a man’s game for too long after that. Which is bullshit. Anybody can surf. I’d teach you.”

Holy shit, there were more words in that one thought than he’s said all night. This guy really fucking loves surfing.

“Yeah, but like, not naked, though, right?” I tease him back.

“Sure, sure,” he shakes his head, “although if our island is somewhere warm then at least we don’t need wetsuits.”

“See, maybe you won’t…”

He shoots me a sideways grin with a cocked eyebrow.

“I get cold when it’s 75 degrees out,” I explain, “not to mention that being solar-powered is a pretty cruel feature when you’re this pale.” I hold out my hand and rotate it so he can witness my pallor and the ungodly number of freckles covering my skin.

“Yeah, true,” he nods again, thinking it over some more. “Well, we can build a hut, that’ll help keep you from roasting. Or I can put a hammock under some trees.” He gestures with his hand in front of where we’re walking, like he’s scoping out the perfect spot up ahead, and for a second it feels like I’m really somewhere in the South Pacific and not walking down 1st in the middle of the night.

“Well, the hammock idea beats the shit out of sitting in the sun long enough that my freckles finally run together into one continuous tan…”

“There’s a plan,” he grins. “So, okay, I’ll be out there surfing, you’ll be in the hammock. Whatcha doing in there?”

“Reading,” I say without skipping a beat. “Just reading and listening to the waves.”

“That sounds pretty perfect too. You can do that in Seattle, though… why the island?”

I think for a minute, trying to put this feeling into words. It’s an odd thing to be sharing with someone I just met, but then again, this whole conversation has been kind of odd, so fuck it. “Something about the idea of getting away from people. It’s like a reflex. Whenever things get too crazy or shit hits the fan, I just want to be in the least populated place I can find for a while. Somewhere off the grid, or at the very least, somewhere no one knows me, until things start to make sense again.” I look over at him and he’s watching me closely, nodding like he has some idea what I mean, so I go on, “like, uh, how does the Muddy Waters song go, ‘behind the sun’? That’s where I want to be. That’s home.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me and gives me the strangest expression, half smile, half scowl, and scratches the back of his neck. “Muddy Waters, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, suddenly wary, “what about him?”

“Didn’t take you for the Chicago blues type, is all. That’s awesome.”

“Well, same to you, Surfer Dude,” I tease him.

“Hey,” he holds up his hands, “I’m from Chicago, I’ve got seniority in this discussion.”

“You’re from Chicago?” Now I’m scowling at him. What the hell? I thought he was from California?

He opens his mouth to answer me, but we’ve just rounded the corner to the building and Jeff shouts out, “hey Eddie, we thought we lost you!”

“They did their level best to, anyway,” I mutter to Eddie out of the corner of my mouth, and he laughs as we close the distance. The closer I get to the building, the faster I want to run away. The light’s on in my living room. I don’t know where the fuck Alex was, but at least now I know where he is. That island in the Pacific sounds better with every step. Is it crazy that I want to grab this Eddie guy by the shirt and ask him to come find one with me right now? Yes. Yes, that’s crazy. Stop it, get a grip.

We’re mostly silent as we head up the stairs, until Lucy pauses in her hallway on the third floor and peers at me with concerned but not totally sober eyes. “Cora, you good?”

Am I that obvious? I love you more than life, Luce, but I don’t need another mother hen, I just need to get home and rip this band-aid off, please stop reminding me. “Yeah, yeah, totally. I’ll call you.” I hope my voice sounds convincing, but her expression doesn’t reassure me. Eddie’s watching everything quietly, which seems to be his default mode, and Jeff’s only got eyes for Lucy, although she’s still frowning at me.

“Yeah,” she says, idly lacing her fingers in Jeff’s as he tries to get her attention.

“Okay, so let me just get Ed set up upstairs, and then I’ll come down in a bit?” Jeff asks her quietly, looking at her like leaving her a flight of stairs behind is the absolute last thing he’d like to do.

“No, man, uh, I remember where it is, if you just toss me your key, it’s cool,” Eddie stammers, shaking his head.

“I think I can herd him to the right door, Jeff,” I manage a small smile in Eddie’s direction and then glance back to Jeff, who’s looking at both of us with his face awash in gratitude as he tosses Eddie his keys. He barely even mutters a “goodnight, guys!” before ducking down the hallway after Lucy.

Eddie and I don’t say anything else as we continue up the stairs. I don’t know how much the guys told him about what happened, or how much he put together, and I’m afraid that opening my mouth at all will lead to more of my bullshit problems pouring out, and this poor new kid doesn’t need any more of that tonight. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind the silence, which only strengthens his application for deserted island companion.

“Right, so uhm, this is me,” I say numbly in front of my own door, “and Jeff’s that one down there. You all set?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he nods, but now he’s giving me the same narrowed-eye look everyone else has had all night long. Oh, please, not you too. “Uhm, you need anything? Just, uh, let me know, okay? ...neighbors, right?” He chews his bottom lip as he squints at me.

“Right.” I try one more time for a smile but I think it’s more like a grimace as I wave at him, swallow hard, and go inside, almost afraid to keep my eyes open while I walk in my own door.

But I do, and I see Alex, stretched out on our couch, eyes closed, a mostly empty beer bottle on the rug and his beat-up copy of The End of Eternity folded open on his chest. He’s asleep. Or he was, until just a second ago, and now he’s staring at me like I’m Banquo’s ghost as I close the door behind me. I don’t even know what to say, but he spares me the necessity of having to come up with something.

“Babe! What are you doing here?” he yelps. He jumps up, oblivious to the fact that he’s just kicked the dregs of his beer over as he bounds over to me, rubbing his mouth aggressively with one hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oh look. I found some words.

“No, you’re -- you’re early, you came home early?” He stammers, the blood draining out of his face, taking me by the shoulders. “Wha -- is everything okay?”

“Early??”

“Yeah,” his voice breaks, coming out almost in a squeak, “your flight was tomorrow night, right? 6:15?”

“That was tonight, Alex,” I say slowly, fighting as hard as I can to keep my voice level. So he really did forget.

“No, no, hold on, I fucking swear, it was tomorrow…” he lets go of me and bounds to the kitchen table in two big steps, rifling through a small pile of receipts and mail until he pulls out a Post-It. “See, right here, United, arrives 6:15, October… ninth… FUCK!”

He rushes back over to me and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my god, Cora... babe... I’m so fucking sorry, I’m the biggest fucking idiot, I fucked it up, I’m so…”

I let him hold me, but it feels like my brain is two gears too low and struggling to put it all in place. He wrote it down right, but he still forgot? How does a person even do that? How little do I matter to you? Fuck, it’s somehow worse to get confirmation of the fears I’d been running from all night long than to keep pretending there was some other explanation.

“Hey, it was an honest mistake,” I say flatly as I mentally try to smooth out the bumps, make it all fit, make it all okay.

He pulls back far enough to get a look at my face. “You’re not mad? Wait a minute, how did you get back? Where’ve you been?” He glances at the clock on the wall. “Were you at SeaTac all this time?”

Where’ve I been? Did he really just ask me that?

“No, Stone picked me up when I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank him then.” Alex’s eyes narrowed just a tiny bit at the name, but he seems to have decided against his usual jealous bullshit, which is a good move right now.

“Yeah. Well, he said he didn’t mind.”

“That’s awfully good of him.” He rubs my back with one hand and kisses my forehead. I’m so not in the mood for this.

“Yeah. Look, I’m going to bed, it’s been a long day.”

I slip out of his grasp and give him a weak excuse for a smile, hoping it’s enough to end the conversation. He’s still looking like he’s seen a ghost, so he doesn’t fight me on it, and I duck down the hallway to our bedroom. “Night babe,” he calls tentatively down the hallway, and I hear a shaky sigh.

Jesus, he really knows he fucked up. The look on his face. I should probably go easier on him, but it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I just don’t have the fortitude right now to try to make him feel better about his mistake. I brush my teeth, get ready for bed, feeling totally numb and hoping for both our sakes that he stays out there in the living room until I can fall asleep. I just can’t take anymore tonight.

Under the covers, eyes closed, I try to drift away from it all. The fear that something terrible had happened to Alex, who, for all his faults, is the only man who’s ever actually loved me. The realization that nothing had happened, and that even the only man who’s ever actually loved me doesn’t even love me enough to think about me when I’m not around. The scrutiny from Stone, from Lucy, which feels like an extra weight to carry on top of it all. The look on Alex’s face that almost makes me feel sorry for him even though all I want to do is scream at him. All of it. I close my eyes and sink a little deeper, breathe a little slower, letting the warmth of the covers become the warmth of an island sun, the rhythm of my breath become the distant crashing of waves.

[lifeonashelf]

CLAPTON, ERIC

Before we get started, I should probably mention that it might be helpful to regard this piece as sort of a “to be continued…” affair. A handful of entries from now, the subject on my docket will be Cream, whose work is such a vital part of Eric Clapton’s canon than any appraisal of them will unavoidably qualify as a supplemental appraisal of him. I’m sure I will have some nice things to say about Cream since I think they were a pretty excellent band (although time will tell… as you’ve surely gleaned by now, these essays often encompass topics that have absolutely nothing to do with the artists I profess to be evaluating; I can’t predict where my mind will be when I get around to writing about Cream, so it’s entirely possible I’ll end up writing about Mork & Mindy or something instead). However, for our purposes here, I think it will serve us better if I focus exclusively on Clapton’s work as a solo artist. Which is likely to engender a far different climate than the forthcoming Cream-slash-Mork-slash-Mindy piece since I think 85% of the music Eric Clapton made after Cream disbanded is dreadfully fucking lackluster.

When I was learning to play guitar as a teenager, there were several monthly magazines devoted to that pursuit, all of which I perused religiously. (For the benefit of any millennials reading this: “magazines” were similar to books, except they were shorter and usually had more pictures in them—and “books” were similar to the missives your hyper-dramatic friends constantly post on Facebook, except they took a little bit longer to read, were written with proper grammar, and the stories in them weren’t all a bunch of histrionic bullshit—also, “grammar” refers to the coherent presentation of words that aren’t abbreviated or misspelled).

Much like any periodical dedicated to a singular subject, magazines like Guitar World regularly featured articles which graded the luminaries in their particular field—in GW’s case, these usually took the form of arbitrary ranking reports on “The 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time!”. I assume modern publications still rely on similarly banal and undemanding space-fillers: “The 10 Most Lethal Armor-Piercing Shells!” in Guns & Ammo, perhaps, or “The 4 Hottest Members Of  5 Seconds Of Summer!” in NAMBLA Monthly (for the benefit of any tweens reading this: if you ever encounter anyone who subscribes to this magazine, get out of their van immediately).

Of course, discerning readers must surely recognize the flaws inherent in any classification system which surveys qualifications that are subject to myriad personal tastes and biases—in other words, lists like those are completely goddamn meaningless (after all, designating any member of 5SOS as the hottest is utter lunacy; who could possibly make a firm decision between such dreamy candidates with any degree of certainty?). In the post-internet world, such items would qualify as your basic gratuitous clickbait. Yet at the time, I scrutinized those rankings with great interest, and I even took an undue amount of pride in finding some of my favorite guitarists logged at prominent positions on the docket—whenever Soundgarden’s Kim Thayil cracked the Top-20, I figured maybe the editors who put that particular list together actually knew their shit.

The cast of musicians who regularly occupied the apex slots in these polls never changed all that much—it seems to be universally agreed among everyone who reads magazines like Guitar World that the greatest player of all time is either Eddie Van Halen or Jimi Hendrix, which is a verdict I don’t have a strong argument against. Jimmy Page was usually ranked around #3 or so, and I never had any problem with that either because he’s Jimmy fucking Page. The rest of the Top-10 was a bit more fluid, with different architects wandering in and out of contention based on what was happening in their contemporary careers when the list was published. A few guitarists were ubiquitous placeholders who merely shifted numbers from year to year, like Steve Vai and Joe Satriani, who seemed to always be classed in the Top-10 despite neither of them ever recording a single piece of music I would listen to on purpose.

Another omnipresent figure on these rosters was Eric Clapton, who was perpetually enumerated in the uppermost echelons of the guitar-god hierarchy, sometimes even slotted way up in the Top-5. A recent poll on ranker.com with 500-thousand tallied voters escalated the matter by rating Clapton as the THIRD greatest axe-wielder of all time, just below Jimi and Jimmy. And despite my cognizance that these standings are fundamentally inconsequential, the net result of Slowhand’s recurrent designation as one the most prodigious craftsmen in the history of his art-form is that for my entire life I have been systematically instructed to distinguish Eric Clapton as one of the greatest musicians of all time. Which is an assertion that rings as patently incorrect when you actually listen to his music.

There’s nothing incendiary about Clapton’s guitar playing, nothing particularly inimitable about his style. He didn’t develop a new musical language for his instrument to sing with—Jimi Hendrix, Eddie Van Halen, and Jimmy Page all did that, but not Slowhand. The two main things Eric Clapton did exceptionally well were splicing a strain of safe white-boy blues into a strain of nonthreatening AOR rock and building the bulk of his career on serviceable renditions of songs written by other people. Whether this particular musical aesthetic appeals to you is irrelevant; no matter how much you like his version of “I Shot the Sheriff”, a modest benchmark like that is not indicative of genius, it is merely indicative of a seasoned session musician plying his trade. Make no mistake, Clapton is a very good guitar player, and I get the sense he’s a nice enough dude. Nevertheless, while the ability to knock out solid cover tunes might curry plenty of favor on Tequila Tuesday at the local dive bar, that skillset alone does not signify any form of virtuosity.

Timepieces—the 7x Platinum-selling 1982 greatest hits album most likely to represent Eric Clapton in the collections of casual fans—features ten songs culled from his 1970’s harvest, the most acclaimed era of his solo career. Of those ten tracks, Clapton is only credited as a songwriter on three cuts, and only one amidst that trio names him as the sole songwriter. This seems to reveal that out of all the most enduring tunes he released during his most enduring era, this musician alleged to be among the greatest of all time was only able to piece together one outstanding song when left to his own devices. Sure, “Cocaine” and “Layla” are fairly strong by any standards (although, Clapton didn’t write the former and merely co-wrote the latter), but the rest of Timepieces is notably unremarkable as far as best-of showcases go—unless the one major thing your life has been missing is the opportunity to hear Eric Clapton tackle the novelty number “Willie and the Hand Jive” like he was submitting it for the opening credits of a sitcom.

Then there’s the knotty matter of “Wonderful Tonight”, the only song on Timepieces credited singularly to Clapton—and, arguably, the only one of his solo period creations that has prevailed in a comprehensive cultural sense. You won’t meet too many wedding DJ’s who don’t have “Wonderful Tonight” in their arsenal, and I’m positive plenty of couples have selected the track to accompany their first dance at the reception. The tune has been widely appropriated as a naked avowal of love and devotion—and, hey, why not? Is there any woman in the world who doesn’t appreciate being told she’s wonderful?

However, sometimes songs get borrowed for things that don’t necessarily match up with their essence. Consider Green Day’s “Time of Your Life”, which will probably be played over every high school graduation slideshow in the civilized world for the next several decades because of its lyrics about turning points and forks stuck in the road—this, despite the fact that the proper title of the song is “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” and the refrain “I hope you had the time of your life” was actually penned as a derisive fuck-you aimed at an ex-girlfriend who jilted Billie Joe Armstrong. In some cases, the intended meaning of a tune doesn’t really matter; once it becomes transcendently popular, it means whatever the people who made it transcendently popular want it to mean. And before you know it, teenagers are dancing to a song about a bitter break-up at their senior proms without any apperception of irony.

This is why I’ve always been fascinated by the quixotic ideals that have been ascribed to “Wonderful Tonight”. Though the swooning masses have evidently chosen to accept that song as a chronicle of the profound romance nurtured by two lovers throughout a night on the town, to me the lyrics tell a far different story.

My sad tale is about a woman fretting woefully as she dolls herself up to attend a party with her carping husband, nervously asking him, “do I look alright?” She’s well aware that to this imperious man, her physical attractiveness is her primary asset; he regards her as a prop, an arm-candy accessory that buttresses his inflated sense of prestige. When the couple arrives at the gala, the caddish groom basks in the attention of the numerous leering men who crane their necks to look at his trophy (“everyone turns to see this beautiful lady that’s walking around with me”). Each swiveling head substantiates his ego, confirms that he is a superior alpha-male because he has managed to ensnare such a stunning female specimen—“I feel wonderful tonight,” he tells her, and this declaration might as well be a cackle of triumph.

His supremacy established, he then proceeds to get absolutely shit-faced. The song doesn’t specify whether his recreation of choice is alcoholic or narcotic or both, only that by the time he’s finished indulging in his spree of hedonistic rapture he’s “got an aching head.” The brevity of the account doesn’t allow a verse which elaborates on his conduct at the festivity, but we can reasonably assume this sort of character becomes a boorish lout when he’s intoxicated—just imagine the undignified behaviors a man like that adopts under the influence while his unfortunate wife helplessly watches on, mortified; perhaps Clapton is being kind by sparing us that part of the saga.

When the bender is over, he is too wasted to drive, so the onus of shuttling him home falls upon his submissive mate. And she is further demeaned when she has to then assist him as he staggers to bed. There, just before slipping into black-out unconsciousness, he slurs to her, “you were wonderful tonight.” A backhanded compliment, surely, reminding her of her place, letting her know that shutting up and looking pretty while he has all the fun is precisely what’s expected of her. “You were wonderful tonight,” he gabbles again, twisting the knife, reiterating that the evening is now over and she will once again curl up on her side of the mattress neglected and unsatisfied and cry herself to sleep while his insensate carcass snores and farts beside her.

[Okay, I made all that shit up. But now that I read the lyrics again, they don’t necessarily contradict my facetious analysis, so the above interpretation might actually be right on the money. Besides, if twelfth graders can slow-dance with their sweethearts to the soundtrack of a disintegrated relationship, then I can make “Wonderful Tonight” be about a doomed and loveless marriage if I want to.]

The other most obvious benchmark in Clapton’s solo catalog is his MTV Unplugged release, which shifted over 26-million copies and still holds the distinction of being the best-selling live album of all time. (For the benefit of any millennials reading this: “Unplugged” was a program that MTV produced during the prehistoric age of their existence, back when they had to lower themselves to airing rubbish like music videos and concerts because there weren’t enough quality reality shows being made about teenagers who have babies and get plastic surgery to fill their broadcast schedule). The network’s marketing strategy for the Unplugged series was actually quite ingenious: in addition to airing hour-long presentations of sets like Clapton’s in prime time, select songs from these shows were earmarked as “singles” and those individual performances were slotted into heavy rotation among the other hit videos of the era, a model which allowed MTV to essentially promote their own albums as frequently as they wanted. Since the channel’s driving ethos at the time was to pummel their audience with constant spins of even the most mediocre clips until viewers decided those songs must be cool because MTV played them all the time, plenty of latently unexceptional offerings like Clapton’s Unplugged were given a ready platform to become smash hits (lest we forget: this approach was so insidiously effective that even Mr. Big and Wilson Phillips achieved Platinum sales figures in 1992).

Hell, even I bought the fucking CD (I never bought those Mr. Big or Wilson Phillips records, though). I’ve listened to Unplugged a couple times while shaping this write-up, and I still have yet to locate a shred (pun possibly intended) of persuasive evidence that Eric Clapton is one of the greatest guitar players of all time anywhere on this disc. The revue has a couple of high-points—the version of “Tears in Heaven” here is indubitably definitive and “Layla” fares surprisingly well in a slower, stripped down form—but as a whole the album is an unadulterated slog, laden with an abundance of instantly-forgettable renditions of unessential blues tunes that are reduced to benign dentist-office white noise by the neutered arrangements which were integral to the Unplugged format. What these moments actually demonstrate—rather than Clapton’s mastery—is that a style of song-craft which was initially channeled straight from wounded souls into ragtag instruments doesn’t translate very convincingly to a fleet of $5,000 guitars; in a fundamental sense, Unplugged’s glossy and pristine studio-audience presentation, every chord perfectly EQ’d and in-tune, strips away whatever raw immediacy cuts like Son House’s “Walkin’ Blues” may have possessed in their primal form. I’m not earnestly criticizing Eric Clapton for his professionalism, but since the thrilling quintessence of live music is the anything-can-happen spontaneity of the stage, it’s difficult to get overly invested in the meticulously premediated and pokerfaced routine captured for this specific document.

The album does indeed embody Clapton’s mien—capable musicianship and a batch of songs unlikely to offend anyone’s sensibilities—but the guitarists who truly belong in the realm of the immortals are those whose work sounds like an existential search for deeper sonic truths. The notes they strike broadcast more than chords, they transmit fever and fire, each one eddying uncontainable passion from their hearts to their fingertips. This is why procedural players like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai have never been engaging: their main artistic drive has always seemed to be showcasing how many arpeggios they can execute, and the soulless military precision of that execution doesn’t convey any sincere affection for their craft—listening to Satch and Vai et al do their thing is kind of like watching a squad of soldiers marching in lock-step; you get the sense the last thing on those lads’ minds is how pleasant it is to be getting some fresh air. And my reaction to Unplugged is similar: Slowhand’s rigid delivery of tried-and-true fret phrases he can undoubtedly strum in his sleep by now doesn’t rouse much in the way of excitement; since Clapton doesn’t sound like he’s overly interested in challenging himself, he doesn’t challenge me either.    

Ironically, at this very moment, my heart is seized by the precise melancholy sensations that are metaphorically denoted as “the blues.” I won’t go into a whole thing about it, but I assure you I am sad as fuck right now. Yet, even though I always seek out music I can relate to in times of pathos, somehow hearing Eric Clapton chirrup about drinking “Malted Milk” isn’t doing a whole lot to make me feel better—hearing Greg Puciato shriek his way through The Dillinger Escape Plan’s tempestuous masterpiece “Farewell, Mona Lisa” might do the trick, but not this shiny and innocuous enactment that would sound equally at home on a Jack Johnson record as it does on Unplugged. And this is usefully underscoring why Clapton’s work is so profoundly dull to me: despite being an artist who has devoted most of his catalog to the blues, a genre whose lyrical dominion deals exclusively in heart-borne emotions, his music doesn’t make me feel a goddamn thing. When I get low like this, I know from experience that I can release some of those negative energies by weeping, or wailing, or screaming my fucking head off. But try as I might, I can’t think of a single occasion when the balm my soul cried out for was twelve tasteful bars in the key of E with some gentle, susurrated crooning on top.

So you 26-million consumers can keep your guitar-hero, and his bubbly acoustic blues, and his songs about rakish men who disgrace their wives at parties. I don’t give a shit if Slowhand is ranked 16 spots higher in Guitar World—fucking give me Kim Thayil any day.

 August 4, 2018