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tessisawriter · 4 years

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Tell Him (Andrei Svechnikov ft. Braden Holtby)

Request: Imagine being [Holtby’s] sister and dating Andrei Svechnikov but [Holtby] doesn’t know

A/N: Text messages are in bold. The original request was for Y/N to be Ovechkin’s sister, but since he is on my “Players I Don’t Write For” list, I switched it to Braden Holtby.

Warnings: Two swear words, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

It was hard enough being the Capitals’ star goalie Braden Holtby’s little sister, but try that while secretly dating superstar winger and member of the rival Hurricanes Andrei Svechnikov. That’s hard on steroids.

Things would’ve been a lot easier if you had fessed up to Braden already. But alas, you were sitting in primo seats in the PNC Arena in Raleigh three days after Christmas, watching your boyfriend’s team shell your brother, who of course had to be in net tonight, with quality shots. Braden wasn’t playing all that well, and you were on the edge of your seat, anxiously watching the action.

“Five minutes left.” Your sister-in-law, Brandi, was sitting next to you, and from the look of her shoulders, the tension was obvious.

“I can’t tell him tonight. He’s going to be so pissed!”

“I hate to say I told you so, Y/N, but: I told you so.”

As you turned to glare at her, the goal horn blared and everyone got up out of their seats to celebrate. You whipped your head back around in the direction of the Capitals’ net and saw Andrei in the middle of a group hug with his teammates. He was pointing at you and grinning widely. Braden took his helmet off and stared at the scene playing out in front of him.

“Looks like you don’t have a choice, honey.” Brandi patted you on the shoulder.

“I told him not to fucking do that, and what does he do? He does it!” you groused as you watched Andrei high five his teammates.

“He clearly agrees with me.” You didn’t answer Brandi because she was right.

You met Andrei eight months ago while his and your brother’s teams were playing against each other in the first round of the playoffs, but you didn’t start dating until you started school at Duke. While you weren’t that far away from your brother and Virginia, you were homesick, and you got Andrei’s number when you met him in the spring, so you ended up calling him during your second week at school and asking him to hang out.

It was nice hanging out with Andrei. While he didn’t live in Durham, he was only 30 minutes away in Raleigh, so he knew the area well enough, and he helped you settle in to life in North Carolina while you helped him improve his English (he was from Russia, and while he spent some time in the States before joining the Hurricanes, his English still needed some work). Within a few weeks, you were dating.

It scared and amazed you at the same time how fast you fell for Andrei. He was spontaneous and knew exactly how to cheer you up, making corny jokes that sucked so badly they were funny. Andrei was tired of hiding your relationship, and while you wanted nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops, you were afraid of disappointing Braden.

Braden was both your older brother and a father figure of sorts, since he was 12 years older than you. You moved to the States for high school and lived with him, his wife, Brandi, and your niece and nephew in Virginia. You loved your big brother and always confided in him about your problems, so it felt weird keeping such a big secret from him, but you did because you didn’t know how he would react. While Braden never explicitly told you to not date a hockey player, Andrei was a star player on one of the Capitals’ biggest rivals. And he just killed any chances of Braden’s team winning the game tonight.

Tonight was the worst possible night to drop the bomb on him, but Andrei just made it impossible to stall any longer.

You sat with your head in your hands for the remainder of the game, even when Panik cut the deficit from 6-3 to 6-4, because the game was effectively over. Besides, you had to figure out the best way to break the news to your brother about your relationship with Andrei, and fast.

***************

You were quaking in your boots as you stood in front of the Capitals’ dressing room, waiting for your brother to come out.

“Whatever happens, Y/N, I’ll be there,” Brandi reassured you. “He’s going to be mad at first, but he’ll forgive you. He loves his baby sister.” She ruffled your hair.

“I’m glad you figured it out: I would’ve gone insane if you hadn’t known, either.”

“I was a teenage girl once too, you know.”

You smiled at her. Brandi figured it out on Christmas Eve when Braden asked you and Brandi to accompany him to Raleigh for the second half of the back-to-back, and you initially said no. When Braden asked you why not, you made up a lame excuse about being tired from a long semester, and while he bought it, Brandi didn’t and pulled you aside after Braden went to bed. Telling her about your secret relationship lifted some of the weight off of your shoulders.

“And you made a smart choice wearing his jersey,” Brandi added.

You looked down at the three white stars and navy letters on the front of your red jersey before glancing at the white number 70 on your sleeve. Little did she know that you weren’t wearing an ordinary black t-shirt under your jersey, but instead Andrei’s shirsey that he gave you earlier this afternoon as a belated Christmas present. You might’ve told Braden and Brandi that you were taking an Uber back to campus to see some of your friends when in reality, you went to Andrei’s apartment. At least it wasn’t a complete lie: you took an Uber.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, and you jumped, not knowing who it was until you turned around and found your victorious boyfriend smiling at you.

“Hi, babe.” He peppered your cheeks with kisses.

“Andrei!” you whined, but you liked having his undivided attention.

Your moment of bliss was interrupted when you heard someone clear their throat. Still in Andrei’s arms, you turned to find your brother scowling at you, arms crossed against his chest. “Bray, I can explain—”

“Explain what? That you’ve been clearly been dating him and sneaking around behind my back to do it?” Braden rarely raised his voice, but the raw hurt in his tone made you wish he did. “I thought we had a better relationship than that.”

“Braden—”

“Brandi, I’m booking us another night at the hotel and I’ll make arrangements for us to fly out tomorrow. I don’t want to see her until we go to the airport.”

You started to cry. “I’m so sorry, Bray, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“I can’t deal with this right now. Let’s go, Brandi.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall and away from you while you sobbed into Andrei’s chest.

***************

It was a silent drive back to Andrei’s apartment. Since you had nowhere else to go for the night, he insisted you stay with him.

Andrei parked the car in his space and as soon as you got out of the car, your phone chimed with a text.

“Is it him?” Andrei asked.

You shook your head as you looked at the screen. “It’s Brandi.”

Her text read: Are you staying with Andrei?

You shot a quick Yes back before walking into the building, Andrei following you.

While you were in the elevator, three grey dots appeared on the screen. You and Andrei watched as they disappeared and a text popped up in its place: I’m sorry about Braden. He just needs the night to calm down/process.

You swallowed before typing back: I get it and the elevator doors opened on Andrei’s floor.

The grey dots appeared again when you were settled on top of the bed, Andrei’s arms wrapped around you, and the next text read: We have a private plane leaving at 2PM from Raleigh. Be at the airport at noon.

Followed quickly by another one: And bring Andrei with you.

You looked at your boyfriend. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I’ve got to face him at some point, and besides, we should tell him together. Properly, I mean.”

You smiled for the first time since you saw Braden outside the locker room. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Andrei gently kissed you on the lips before pulling away and saying, “You should answer her.”

“Oh, right.” You typed out the text and sent it—We’ll be there—before realizing something. “Shit. My carry-on is with the Caps’ bags!”

You hurriedly texted Brandi, and she quickly replied: Don’t worry; I have it. You’re good with the clothes you have on, right?

You cringed. “This is not good.”

Andrei leaned over to read the text. “What do you mean…? Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I’m wearing your shirsey!”

“You can borrow one of my other shirts.”

“Do you own any non-Hurricanes related clothing?”

“Of course I do!” Andrei huffed.

“Wait, let me rephrase that: do you have any shirts not related to hockey in general?”

This time, Andrei paused. “I do…somewhere.”

“It’s all right, we’ll worry about it in the morning. I just really want to go to sleep.”

Andrei got up off the bed and went over to his drawers while you texted Brandi to say good night. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a Hurricanes t-shirt for you to wear and tossed them to you. You smiled and went into the bathroom to change.

When you came back out, Andrei was already tucked into bed, and he was shirtless.

“Come here, babe.” He held out his arms to you, and you collapsed in the bed next to him. “I’m really behind on laundry, so I don’t have another clean shirt. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe.” A moment of silence passed before you continued: “You were right, you know. I should’ve told him earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I get where you were coming from.” He kissed your cheek and you snuggled further into his arms. Before you could fall asleep, though, he added: “A private plane, though? Really?”

You chuckled. “Leading your team to a Stanley Cup has its perks. Not that he uses them often; leave that to Ovi.”

You could feel the vibrations of Andrei’s laughter as he pulled you even closer to him than before.

***************

You were so tense on the drive to the airport, not even Andrei’s bad jokes could make you smile.

Brandi texted you earlier that morning, telling you Braden was still in a bad mood but that she expected him to forgive you. You weren’t so sure he would. He had never acted like this before, and you were scared you ruined your relationship with your brother.

Your stomach churned as you and Andrei walked up to the terminal entrance.

“Are you okay?” Concern was written all over his face.

“No. But there’s no turning back now,” you said and grabbed Andrei’s hand as you walked through the doors.

Brandi and your brother were waiting on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Bray,” you said, trying to sound as casual as you could. “I—”

“How long?” Braden cut you off.

You gulped. “Almost five months.”

“Five months.” The last part came out like a whisper, so he cleared his throat before continuing. “Wow, okay. Look, I’m sorry about last night. I should never have left you in the arena like that. But I was really upset, and I still am.”

There was a terrible silence before Andrei blurted out: “I’m the one who insisted we keep it from you. Don’t blame her; it’s all on me.”

Braden regarded him for a moment. “I know for a fact that’s not true, but I like that you’re defending my sister. If you don’t mind, though, can I talk to her alone for a moment?”

“Sure, I’ll just—”

“You don’t need to leave, we’ll talk over there.” Braden pointed at the big windows, and you followed him.

“Y/N, I want you to know that I’m not mad about you dating Andrei. I mean, it upset me at first, but it’s because so many changes have happened: you went off to college, and now you have a boyfriend…but I’m over it now. You have to live your life.” He cleared his throat. “There is one thing, though: I’m hurt that you felt you couldn’t tell me. Why did you feel that way?”

You felt a tear fall down your cheek. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“Andrei plays for one of your biggest rivals.”

Braden scoffed. “I couldn’t care less about that. I care about the way he treats you, and from what I’ve seen so far, he’s good to you. I think he might even love you.”

You blushed. “I think I might love him, too.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you, Y/N.” Braden wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tight. You held on as if he were going to disappear.

“I love you too, Bray.”

You pulled away from the hug, only to find Andrei and Brandi standing right behind you.

“Are you guys good?” Brandi asked.

“We’re good.” You smiled.

“Thank God, I don’t ever want to see you two fight again.” She came over and hugged you.

“As for you, Andrei,” Braden turned his attention to your boyfriend. “Just because I live in Virginia doesn’t mean I won’t come down here and kick your ass if you hurt my sister.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting her.”

“Good. Now I know you’re an adult,” he shifted his attention back to you, “but promise me you’ll stay in the dorms on weeknights and not take your focus off your studies. You’ve worked so hard to get here, and you’re going to graduate from college.”

“Yes, Dad,” you joked.

“Okay, I think we’ve covered everything. I’ll give you two a moment.” Braden grabbed Brandi’s hand and walked over to the ticketing counter.

“I’m so glad it went well,” you said.

“I knew it would: he’s just protective of you.”

You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Anytime. When do you come back?”

“Nine days.”

“Ugh, it feels so far away,” he whined, and you laughed.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You leaned in and kissed him.

“Ahem! No PDA around me!” Braden shouted, and you and Andrei pulled away from each other laughing.

“Call me when you land?”

“I will. See you soon.” You kissed Andrei on the cheek before joining Braden and Brandi at the ticketing counter to go back home.

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halo-jpeg · 3 years

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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 5

Weak, cold, autumn light seeped in through drawn curtains, accompanied by the sporadic brrrrrringing of an alarm. The sound split the morning silence, tearing Eddie from his sleep, echoing through the entirety of the house more effectively than it was meant to. Eddie let out a groan, trying to reach out a hand and silence the mechanic screaming but just not being able to reach it- frustration sparked inside of his stomach for just a quick moment, and then someone else's hand came down onto the machine, cutting it off mid-ring.

"You set your alarm late," It was Stan, and, not really a surprise, he was already entirely prepared for the day, "Hurry and get up. I'll go make sure Bill is awake. Water is boiled on the stove and I made eggs, too." Stanley was dressed in a pair of bluejeans, as well as a knitted blue sweater he'd loved and worn for the last three years. His hair was styled into it's chaotic, curly perfection, swept gently to one side- he was smiling, a morning person, bright and ready for the day even though it was hardly 7:00 am. Eddie envied that constant 'ready-to-go' attitude Stan faced each new day with, when he- Eddie- had to will himself out of bed every time he opened his eyes.

"Thanks," He mumbled as Stan left the room, sitting up with a sigh and scrubbing his hands over his face to shake the sleep away. Eddie's jaws stretched wide in a yawn, and then he forced himself to abandon the comfortable warmth of his bed and crawl from under the covers. The air around him had a biting chill, the remaining after-effect of the rain that had been coming every now and again since Saturday, sending goosebumps breaking out over Eddie's skin as he made his way to his drawers, pulling open the topmost one to dig out a shirt. Settling on something simple enough, he pulled out a dark grey long-sleeved tee reading 'Back Pages' in bold white lettering and then 'Used Books and More' right underneath, in smaller print- Back Pages had been an- obviously- used bookstore from back in Derry, one of the only places his mother was actually moderately okay with him visiting. Along with the shirt Eddie pulled out brown pants and some miscellaneous belt, throwing the outfit together and running a comb quickly through his hair to tame the unruly bedhead.

"E-Eddie?" Bill's voice came from outside his door, probably in the kitchen, still thick with sleep, "Do you wuh-want tea? Coffee?" Eddie continued around his room, stumbling through the semi-darkness, shouting back his reply,

"Do you know where my chamomile is? Do we have honey?" Eddie grabbed his phone, head tilted towards the door as he waited for Bill's reply- at last, he heard something akin to an 'okay', but more of a grumble than that. With one last glance in the mirror and a silent 'you can do this, Eddie' that was meant to pep him up, he jammed his phone into his pocket and swiped his backpack from where it had been set by the vanity. Grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door right open, Eddie stepped out and hurried across the hall to the kitchen. "My tea?" He asked right away, his gaze darting between Stan, and then Bill, both seated at the small dining table in the far corner- a tall, open window sat behind them- the sky outside was dull and grey with the promise of yet more rain.

"Yeah," Stan nodded, motioning towards the counter right to Eddie's left, "It's poured and ready. Come eat, and hurry- I don't want to be late."

"We won't be late, Stan, w-we've got over an hour." Bill patted Stan's back as he reassured him, partially amused by the constant anxiety and worrying Stan never seemed to stop with- though, of course, that anxiety was pointed towards more realistic things, when Eddie's own anxiety was, in his opinion, stupid and trivial and downright annoying. Eddie poured honey into his chamomile tea, sliding the rest of the scrambled eggs onto a plate, and then took a seat at the table. "Wuh-what classes do you guys have? I have English all d-day. Lit-literature and then luh-languages."

"Biology first, and then Mathematics." Eddie's eyes brightened at Stan's words.

"I have math second, too! Thank fuck- I suck at that stuff," Just as Eddie was about to continue, saying something regarding Stan and Bill's natural ability to do almost anything right, his phone beeped in his pocket and he remembered that he hadn't turned it on a single time since last night. He was quick to pull it from it's place, looking at his newest message- his brows screwed together, and he caught the skin of his cheek between his teeth, racking his brain to see if he recognized the unknown number that had texted him.

"What's wrong with you? Are the eggs bad?" Stan tilted his head, leaning in his chair to try and glance over Eddie's shoulder to catch sight of the screen of his Nokia. Eddie held it just out of sight.

"Do either of you know this number?" Rapidly, Eddie read it out, and it didn't ring any bells in either other boys brain. Bill shrugged, Stan lost interest- they both returned to their breakfast as Eddie read over the message once more. All it said was,

What ur schedule look like, penne?

It didn't make any sense. Eddie texted back and then put the phone down on the table to dig into his own food.

Who is this?

The eggs were great, as usual- Stan was one hell of a cook even though he'd only ever learned from his own personal trial and error. A light conversation was picked up again, the first topic being that of the rain. Eddie barked out a few complaints about the grey weather, how he was afraid to catch a cold and wished he had a thicker jacket and maybe rain boots, or a car, actually, yes that would be ideal. Bill said he liked the rain, Stan said he was indifferent but was enjoying the weather for what it was. Through bites of food and sips of early-morning tea, the three finished up their eggs and tossed the dishes into the sink, ready to go any minute now. Before Eddie could slip into his shoes his phone beeped again and he was quick to swipe it up and look at the response.

Come on conchiglie! U rlly dont rmmber me?

Eddie scoffed, his brows knitting together once more. Through his sleep-haze he couldn't think of a single person he knew that he didn't already have in his contacts- at least, no one that would care about his schedule. He had a few aunts and uncles that he hardly saw but they wouldn't be messaging him now of all times, he didn't think. And what the fuck was 'conchiglie'? Eddie was clueless- Big Bill, one shoe on and the other in his hands, pulled up at Eddie's side in a silent request to be shown what was so odd. Without complaint other than a sigh, Eddie shifted the phone over, and Bill scanned the texts before letting out a bark of laughter and sharing an amused glance with Stan that seemed to communicate everything.

"Oh?" Stan said with a cheeky grin, realization donning itself on his face, pressing in on Eddie's other side to read the messages for himself, "He finally texted?"

"What?" Eddie tried to ask, but he was ignored as Bill said,

"What's with the pasta names?" Eddie was way more confused now. Again, he repeated his 'what?' and again he was ignored, "Penne? Conchiglie? I don't g-get it. What an i-idiot." Oh- just like that it clicked together and Eddie's jaw dropped open. Penne, conchiglie- pasta... spaghetti... Eddie Spaghettie- Eds- Eddie- Richie.

"No, no no no no- Which one of you gave him my fucking number? What the hell?" Eddie jammed his phone into his pocket, rounding on Bill and taking in the expression on his face- it was amused, sure, but Eddie could already read the tiniest lines of innocence forming in his features. The way Bill's gaze flickered for a tenth of a second towards Stan told Eddie everything that he needed to know. "Stanley Uris what did you do?" Eddie spun to Stan, hands on his hips, glowering upwards at the much, much taller boy. Despite forcing every ounce of intimidation into his words as he could, Stan was grinning from ear to ear, sinister and ultimately unthreatened- his eyes were bright as stars and gleaming with mischief. "You know I hate that guy! He's- He's- He's so annoying! He's loud and he's rude and he's- I can't believe you!"

"Edward," Stan said in an even, polished tone, redirecting his gaze to slip on his shoes, "One of these days in the near future you'll be thanking me for getting you out in the world," Bill let out a snicker, and Eddie jammed his elbow into his ribs, silencing him effectively, "You need friends who aren't just me and Bill. Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike- they're nice people, and you need to get out of that shell of yours."

"Oh, you're on to talk!" Eddie crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them just after to put on his shoes in a huff, "You're ten billion times more shy than I am, Stanley. I'm just fine with only you two as my friends, I don't need other people- I mean, I went 19 years of my life with no one but you two! I survived Henry fucking Bowers with just you guys to keep me safe! I don't need other people in my life." Now, Bill was cutting in and the tension in the hallway to the front door spiked upwards. Eddie realized now that the entire topic of conversation was about to change for the worse- shit, he'd let his mouth run, and now he was going to be pitied. Eddie hated pity. It made him ill.

"E-Eds, you cu-can't go your entire life with o-only me and Stan. I mean," Bill chuckled, his eyebrows slanted sympathetically, "I know we're g-great and all, but your muh-mother has kept you from having healthy social t-ties for your whole life. It's healthy to have more than o-one or two friends." The mention of his mother sent a tidal wave of homesickness propelling right over Eddie's head- a bitter, frightening, nasty homesickness- and suddenly he felt like curling up underneath his covers and crying his eyes out, but he wouldn't. He balled his hands into fists, gritted his teeth together, and turned to the door. His bag was slung over his shoulder.

"Let's go." Eddie kept his head low and pulled the door open, pushing out into the hallway and going straight for the elevator without another word. Bill didn't want to let the topic drop just yet, but a nudge and a shake of the head from Stan was enough to get him to do just that- the shake of Stan's head said let him have this one, Big Bill. It's his first day of school. Give him a break. And so, the conversation was over, to hopefully be picked up again at a later date.

-----

Richie, earbuds in, King of Rock 'N' Roll playing at full volume, burst in a flurry from his music classroom and made a beeline for the stairwell at the end of the hall. Like some agile snake or cat, he dodged and weaved between other students as they poured from their own respective classes, determined to break out into the sunlight and share his contentedness with his friends.

"Tozier! Don't run in the halls!" Some teacher scolded him, but as Prefab Sprout continued jabbing away at his eardrums he didn't hear it- and he didn't really care to hear it either- he was too busy riding the high that the schools new set of drums had given him. Ever since Richie grew so involved with the rock genre and everything alike, he had wanted to learn to play the drums but had never been given the chance until today. Now, Mr. Carr had basically had to chase Richie from the class with a broom like he was some sort of radical street rat. With his big, goofy grin Richie sent himself flying down the stairs, taking them three at a time and not even wincing at the way his knees protested with every heavy landing. The doors to the outside were within his sights as soon as he touched down onto the first floor. Still pushing past other students, not even bothering with any courteous 'pardon me's' he was at them in an instant. In time with the thudding of the music, he shoved the doors open and went, quite literally, dancing and spinning out into the warming sunlight, which had just begun to peek through the clouds. From across the large expanse of concrete just outside the doors sat an emptying bike rack, and leaning against it he spotted more than the usual quantity of familiar faces.

"Top 'o tha afternoon to ye, Haystack, sor! An' Mr. O'Hanlon, awful good!" As Richie pulled out his earbuds, music so loud it was still audible even as they dropped to hand at his side, he took a dramatic double-take and let out a loud gasp, "Well, if it isn't so!" Now, Richie was the Southern Bell rather than the Irish Cop, and he was taking Bill's hands in his and fluttering his lashes through his thick-framed glasses, "Sir Bill, and your noble companions! What have I done to be graced with your presences, my fair gentlemen?"

"You know you'll ruin your eardrums listening to your music that loud, right? You can't fix Tinnitus- and if you go deaf you'll have hearing aids for the rest of your life." Eddie gripped the straps of his backpack, his eyes flickering down to Richie'e earbuds, which were dangling dangerously close to the dirty ground- much too close for comfort. Eddie almost shuddered.

"Aw, thanks for the concern Spaghetward!" Richie let go of Bill, moving for Eddie instead, and slung his arm enthusiastically over the shorter boys shoulders. In return, as if it were instinct, Eddie let out a sound like the croak of a frog and ducked away with a grimace.

"Don't call me that, jackass!" Out of the entire group, the only one who was observant enough to note the faint red tint on Eddie's face was Mike, and he wasn't going to call the poor boy out on it.

"I see you're all getting along swell, huh?" Richie's dark gaze shifted from Ben and Mike to Bill and Stan, and then, lastly, to Eddie, where they lingered for just a second longer.

"Stan and Eddie were in math with me," Ben says with his small, kind smile, "Stan is some sort of super-genius or something- Eddie, too. I don't get it." Without missing a beat, Eddie let out an exasperated sound, shaking his head furiously.

"No, no no, don't lob me in with Stanley. He's the super-genius, I just nod my head and act like I know what he's talking about." Stan was quick to decline.

"Oh, don't say that. You're getting it."

"Hey, Bev's in working at the cafe today- are you guys interested in stopping by with me, Rich and Ben?" The next one to speak was Mike, and his offer was met with a cacophony of different replies; Ben seemed content with the idea, his smile going wider at the thought; Bill was quick to agree, and Stan was much the same, though Eddie didn't see to thrilled. He let out a sound as if he was going to speak, but then he clamped his jaw shut, mouth a straight line, and bit his tongue. Richie himself was positively ecstatic. His already bubbly mood was only amplified by this suggestion, and his grin was so bright it could blind.

"Oh, you have to come! The sun is out for once, you can't go curl up in whatever cave you're renting. Whaddaya say?" Swinging his backpack off his shoulders, Richie pulled his walkman free and clicked the 'pause' button, then proceeded to, unceremoniously, jam both it and the earbuds in his bag once more.

"I'm down," Bill said, glancing at Stan, who nodded, and then at Eddie, who shrugged curtly and stared intently at the ground below his feet.

"Great!" Zipping his bag back up and throwing it onto his shoulders, Richie moved to lead the way, and before the group knew it they were off, headed for the campus' outskirts and following their trusty guide, Richie Tozier, towards Portland Authentic. The stroll was quaint, amiable- Stan hung near the back with Mike and Bill, pointing out the different types of birds they spotted on the walk. Richie had thought every bird here in Portland was just some old rock pigeon, but now he knew that there were actually mourning doves as well. Ben was at Richie's side, hands in his pockets, his neck craned so that his face was upturned towards the sunlight. Eddie was, though reluctant, to Richie's other side, desperately trying to tune out the bird talk behind him. His annoyance was evident, but there was also a subtle fondness in his soft, brown eyes that showed how much he cared for Stan and his passions.

"Does he talk about pigeons a lot? You seem peeved." Eddie almost jumped right out of his skin at Richie's sudden words, having been totally spaced out in his desperate attempts to disassociate. Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and scratched at the back of his neck.

"Oh, uh," Eddie's gaze darted over his shoulder towards Stan, and then to Richie, and then back at his shoes, his worn black Converse sneakers, "Yeah. He loves them, but... I don't know why. They kinda-" Eddie cut himself off with a shrug, his hand dropping to his side once more, "Kinda gross, don't you think? With their weird feathers and their gross feet? All of their, like, diseases and shit?" Richie's cheeks had begun to hurt from the stretch of his smile. Something today was just making him giddy. His chest was tight with unadulterated glee, and it felt like something was pushing around in his stomach, like butterflies. Eddie was so impossibly earnest. The affection in his gaze directed at Stanley was heartwarming, the exact same kind of best-friend love that Richie had with Bev, Ben and Mike. Despite Eddie being disgusted by birds he was clearly still glad that Stan had something to be so passionate about- cute.

"I dunno," Richie said, a tilt to his head, "I think birds are kind of cool. Especially magpies? Oh, God," Richie took a few steps ahead, and then spun on his heel to walk backwards, facing Eddie and talking animatedly with his hands, "If I had the chance I would have a pet magpie. They're so pretty- their feathers look all blue in the sunlight and stuff, and they get so fluffed out when they're pissed." Eddie looked dumbfounded, his brows furrowed, his jaw dropped- disgusted, that was the word for the expression he wore.

"Are you fucking kidding me? A magpie? Those stupid, nasty black birds with the white chest? Jesus, what's wrong with you?" Running a hand over his face, Eddie let out a huff- Richie's smile grew, somehow, if that was even possible, at the distress his words seemed to have caused in the smaller boy. Seeing him all worked up like this made that weird feeling in Richie's chest grow tenfold. Brushing that thought away, still walking backwards, he let Eddie continue. "They don't know how to shut up. Every Spring, ever Autumn- they would be screaming away at the crack of dawn. I could never catch a wink of sleep. My mommy used to fire at them with my dads old BB gun, but she never hit any of them."

"And thank fuck for that!" Richie scoffed, playful, "Those poor things don't deserve to be shot." Eddie countered with a quick 'yes they do', and then the bickering continued. Their back-and-forth, the lighthearted, heated-on-Eddie's-end banter felt perfectly natural. Richie would say some quip, some little thing about magpies that he found nice or cute or interesting, and then Eddie would come right back at him with why that was false. Richie probably should have been listening to these comebacks, but he found himself getting, more often than not, distracted by little things like the cinnamon-dusting of freckles across the bridge of Eddie's nose or the way his chocolate-toned hair was swept so tidily to one side, not a single hair out of place. Sooner or later, Portland Authentic had come into view, the glass windows showing through to the bustling interior. The after-school rush had just hit, and boy was Richie glad he had the day off today. As he pushed the door open, the bird conversation cut short, he noted exactly how busy it was. The line was huge, nearly reaching the entrance, and almost every single seat was taken except for one four-person table in the back corner.

"I'll get the table." Stan's tone was serious, his gaze determined, "Get me a-"

"B-Black coffee, yeah," Bill was smiling, waving Stan off with one hand. At once, with a final nod of affirmation, Stan sped away to secure the seats. Though Richie didn't say anything, he thought to himself how the hell can someone like black coffee? because there were so many other options, sweet drinks, savory, peppermint or rich chocolate- drinking straight black coffee as a regular was basically a sin in his eyes. Slow and steady, the line progressed, Bev behind the counter working with two other people named Britney and Mason. Richie wasn't too fond of them and honestly pitied poor Bev having to deal with them all alone. It had been a good two or three weeks since she's been stuck in a shift without Ben or Richie at her side. Finally the group of five arrived at the till and Beverly's face brightened like a Christmas tree.

"Rich! Ben! Mike, Bill, Eddie- Great to see you guys, my God, today has been absolute hell-" She seemed to notice she was getting sidetracked, and shook her head, frazzled, getting back into her working head space. "Sorry. What can I get you guys?"

"An affogato for me, my dear, and- Hey, Eds, do you like ice cream? Whatever- Get a second one for him, too. He needs to branch out a little." Eddie gaped, seconds from a retort as Richie ordered for him, but then Richie stepped aside and shot him a glance that was unusually sincere. "Hey, don't worry. It's another low-caffeine one, and it's more vanilla ice cream than anything else. You'll love it, I swear."

"Yeah, fine," Eddie set his jaw tight.

"One bl-black coffee and an amer-amer-am-" Bill bit his tongue, screwing his eyes shut, and then, with a sigh, forced out the words, "americano. Jesus." Bev gave him a calm smile, a silent 'it's alright, dude' and turned to Ben and Mike who ordered a coffee with two creams and two sugars and a lemonade. Richie offered to pay, abusing his employees discount, and then the group all turned to the table in the corner where Stan was still seated with a book in his hand. As the group approached he placed the small origami crane he used as a bookmark between the pages of The Shining and tucked the novel away- the front cover had been battered and frayed, a sign of having been read and reread for years and years. Clearly, the book was cherished.

"Great choice, Stanny," Richie complimented with a nod towards Stan's backpack, where the book had been hidden away, "You a fan of horror?" Stanley was quick to shake his head, hugging himself gently and running his hands along his upper arms.

"I hate it. Bill is making me read it. It's torture." Bill let out a barking laugh as he took his seat, having pulled up an extra chair from another table. Two people would have to squish into the corners since this spot was only meant to seat four- no one seemed to mind.

"So you're the horror fanatic, then. Glad to see we have something in common! What's your favourite movie?" Taking his own seat on Stan's other side, Richie held his head up with his hand, elbow planted on the tabletop, his curiosity officially piqued. Ben and Mike weren't fond of the gore-packed stuff Richie enjoyed, so Bev was the only one who ever went to the theater with him; the idea of having another friend to catch some films with was just swell.

"That's tough to suh-say," Bill tapped his finger against the table, glancing sidelong at Eddie, "We went to see H-Halloween a few years back. I luh-liked that one a lot, but now wh-whenever I see it I think of when your m-mom found out-"

"Shut up, Bill," Eddie cut him off with a harsh glare, and then forced his expression to soften, covering up his snappiness with a red face and a sarcastic, "D-Don't remind me." It was clear he was embarrassed- Richie would have pressed, since he couldn't keep his trashmouth shut sometimes (all the time), but Beverly saved the day by hurrying over with a tray balanced precariously on one hand. Atop that tray sat the array of beverages that the group of six had ordered. With Beverly's fantastic memory, she began to hand out cup after cup to exactly who had requested them; Ben got his double-double, Mike his lemonade, Bill his americano, Stan his black coffee (Beverly knew it was for him even though he hadn't been at the till- not many people ordered coffee black and she remembered him from that first night.). Richie and Eddie were given their double order of affogato, an Italian coffee-based dessert consisting of a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a shot of espresso on the side.

"Thanks, Bevvie," Richie bid her adieu with a two-fingered salute and then turned all of his attention towards Eddie, "Alright," he began, "Eds,"

"-Don't call me that-"

"-you're about to taste the best thing you've ever had in your life. Follow my lead," Richie plucked up the small one-ounce shot glass of espresso, and, reluctantly, Eddie did the same. In tandem, they poured the coffee over the ice cream, then grabbed their spoons. Eddie was the first to take a scoop, shooting Richie a glance that he couldn't decipher before taking the bite. For the quickest second his eyes seemed to light up, and then he swallowed down the obvious delight and simply shrugged his shoulders.

"It's alright, I guess," He grumbled, and then proceeded to devour the next bite of the treat. Richie grinned wide, taking a scoop of his own and lifting it into the air, accepting his victory.

"I would like to propose a toast!" He called, and all eyes turned to him, "To Stuttering Bill, Stan the Man, and Eddie Spaghetti- Welcome to the Losers Club!" With a cheer from nearly all- Eddie settling for a small smile- the group burst into friendly chatter. Richie's toast held some sort of unseen monumental weight- everyone felt it- even Beverly, who was behind the counter and working away, had paused to raise her water bottle with bright eyes. Though everyone felt it- it, being that feeling of rightness- no one said a word. It wasn't necessary. Richie, Ben, Beverly and Mike had been a quartet for a few years now, as thick as thieves- they had called themselves the 'Losers Club' and, until Eddie, Stan and Bill arrived, the four of them had been the only members. No one could be certain what had changed, but, just like that, all seven knew that they were a singular unit. It was no longer Richie, Ben, Beverly and Mike. Now, it was Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike, Eddie, Bill and Stan. The Losers Club with a capital L and a capital C.

In a fleeting moment, Eddie caught Bill's gaze, and held it. The redhead was wearing his leadership smile, that easy-breezy full-face grin that so easily gained him respect. Once the two's eyes clicked, that smile shifted into something else, something softer, something that Bill reserved for Eddie. It was a brotherly smile- After all, Bill was the brother Eddie had never had. Bill was the rock, the island in the middle of the ocean, the one thing that never failed to keep Eddie sane, the solace in the storm that had been his mother, and was now the unfamiliar territory of Portland. In that smile was an unspoken promise, as well as something else. The promise was These people will keep you safe. The 'something else' was Bill's pride- his pride in Eddie. I'm proud of you, Eds, the smile said. You're doing great. For the first time in his life, Eddie was fearless. His own smile said Thank you.

#reddie #reddie fanfiction #richie tozier #edde kaspbrak #stan uris #stanley uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #the losers club #it #it movie #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #it 2019

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years

Text

Unpack My Heart With Words - Updated

New chapter of my Hamlet/Theatre Reddie AU.

It’s on AO3 HERE or I’ve posted it under the cut.

preview:

‘Are you kidding me – YOU’RE my Hamlet? She’s sent me YOU? I swear to God – Right. Well. Get inside – no, not THAT door, the door where – just follow me’.

Richie waits for a beat, watching Eddie march away with his scarf trailing behind him, gauzy fabric reaching out to Richie with invisible arms. Eventually, Richie’s feet co-operate with the signals screaming in his brain to go! go! go!, and he follows Eddie, who had disappeared through a small side-door marked ‘private’. Richie takes a deep breath, before he pushes the door open and steps inside, breaching the dark underbelly of the RSC.

@violetreddie @constantreaderfool @xandertheundead

‘Are you kidding me – YOU’RE my Hamlet? She’s sent me YOU? I swear to God – Right. Well. Get inside – no, not THAT door, the door where – just follow me’.

Richie follows Eddie through a series of corridors, winding this way and that, past small dressing rooms, large open spaces with chairs strewn haphazardly around. People pass them, nodding at Eddie and staring at Richie with blank, expressionless looks. Richie keeps his gaze trained to the shocking white of Eddie’s sneakers, a stark contrast against the deep, velvety black of the rest of his outfit. Eddie is talking on the phone, the tinny voice of the other person filtering out into the air, but not loud enough that Richie can hear what they’re saying. He tries not to listen to what Eddie is saying, feeling invasive, but he can’t persuade his ears to disengage.

“No, I had no idea you’d cast him … I suppose he was always very good when we were at RADA together … I told you that! You knew I went to RADA with him … Well you know now … Yes, he’s that Richie … I have no idea … I have to go, thank you again for this simply marvellous surprise”

Eddie eventually pushes his way through a set of large double doors, and Richie follows him through into a large classroom. One of the walls is mirrored, and there are nine other people staring over at him. He instantly recognises one of them.

Watching Eddie march over to the desk, and start typing furiously, Richie makes a beeline for where Stan is standing.

“Stanley the Manley!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, it’s you”

Richie smacks Stan’s arm lightly.

“That’s hardly an appropriate greeting for your best friend now, is it”

“Richie, I haven’t seen you since we graduated”

“Semantics, semantics” Richie dismisses, with a wave of his hand.

It was true. He hasn’t seen Stan since he graduated fourteen years ago. Even then, Richie had grown more and more distant from everyone after Eddie had left. He put his head down, poured his heart and soul into everything he did, graduated, and never looked back. His RADA years were simultaneously the best and worst years of his life thus far, and it exhausted Richie to think about them. It had, however, meant that he’d lost touch with Stan. Stan had tried, send him texts and emails and even rang him once a month for two years, but that, like all things, eventually stopped. Seeing Stan now, stood in front of him, with fine lines around his eyes and flecks of grey mottling his ashy blonde hair, tugged painfully at Richie’s heart.

“I’m sorry, you know”

“I know you are, Rich. I get it, I was just collateral damage” Stan dead-panned, the monotone voice contrasted happily with the smile in his eyes.

Before Richie could reply, he was interrupted by the clapping of hands.

“So now that the lead has so kindly deigned us all with his presence, we can begin. You should have got the email with the cast list, so perhaps some of you are familiar with each other. My name is Edward Kaspbrak and I’m directing this production, as you all well know. You can call me Eddie, though. We’ll start by reading through act one scenes four and five, the first interaction between Hamlet and the ghost of Old King Hamlet, so those of you who aren’t needed can excuse yourselves to one of the other rehearsal rooms to read through act one scene one to three together. Hamlet, Horatio and Marcellus, over here” Eddie instructed, pointing to a door which presumably lead to another rehearsal space, before beckoning to Richie, Stan and an attractive, blonde-haired man steps forward, presumably this production’s Marcellus.

Everyone else filters out of the room in near total silence, leaving Richie, Stan and the man playing Marcellus staring dumbly at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Hang on, who’s playing the ghost?” Richie called out, causing Eddie’s head to snap up from where it was buried in an old beaten up copy of Hamlet, his hands leafing impatiently through the yellowing pages.

“Pardon?”

“The Ghost, who is playing him?”

Eddie blinks.

“It hasn’t been cast yet”

“How the hell are we supposed to block this, then? Am I supposed to talk to the air? Act as if the air is talking to me? C’mon, Eddie, that’s a bit ridiculous” Richie asks, gesticulating wildly.

“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice talking to yourself”

As soon as he says it, Eddie’s face shifts, the perfectly schooled apathy replaced by something that looks almost pained, something that almost resembles regret, before its chased away, and the apathy returns.

“Can we at least call one of the others in and have them read it for now?” Richie tries, trying to ensure that his voice doesn’t betray his frustration and start to waver.

“I’ll read it, I suppose, if you’re going to make such a fuss about it”

With that, Eddie throws the book onto a nearby chair, where it lands closed with a slapping sound. Richie sends a sideways glance at Stan, who is staring at both of them with wide, amused eyes.

Marcellus is standing on the other side of the room, looking equal parts confused and terrified.

Watching Eddie unwind his scarf and set it neatly on the nearest table, Richie is thrown backwards in time, as the Eddie standing before him, dressed in black dress pants and a black shirt, morphs into the Eddie he had seen for the first time in rehearsal room 3. His Lear.

They start reading through Act I Scene IV, which goes fairly well. Eddie only shouts at Richie once, when he gets a line wrong.

“Ministers of grace and Angels –“

“Wrong!”

“Pardon?”

“It’s ‘Angels and Ministers of Grace –“

“Oh for fucks sake” Richie mutters under his breath.

Surprisingly, he’s not frustrated at Eddie. In all fairness, he did get the line wrong. What surprises him is the embarrassment that claws at his stomach. He’s embarrassed. He’s standing in front of the love of his life – the boy that twisted him up and turned his whole life upside down nearly fifteen years ago – and he’s getting lines wrong, and he’s embarrassed.

“Try it again” comes Eddie’s reply, and Richie looks up at him tentatively, expecting to be met with glares and scorn, but Eddie’s face is blank. He’s just looking at Richie, prompting him, willing him to continue. No malice, but no soothing smile, either. Richie tries to remember what Eddie looked like when he smiled, when he was tucked under Richie’s armpit when they were watching movies in Richie’s shitty old flat.

Richie tried again, and got it right.

They finish act one scene four, and move straight onto act one scene five. The ghost speaks to Hamlet in this scene, which means Eddie will be speaking to Richie, pleading with him to ‘remember me!’.

Richie never forgot him.

“Where wilt thou lead me? Speak; I’ll go no further” Richie starts.

“Mark me”

“I will”

“My hour is almost come, when I to sulphurous and tormenting flames, must render up myself”

As they progress through the scene, Richie is stunned to realise that Eddie is awful. His delivery is wooden, his voice is monotone, emotionless, as if he doesn’t care, as if he’d rather be anywhere else, totally apathetic to Richie’s need for a good performance to respond to, to bounce off of.

“Adieu, Adieu Hamlet, Remember – –“

“Have you forgotten how to do it, Eds?” Richie interrupts, and it spills out of his mouth with more venom than he’d intended.

“We didn’t all have the luxury of finishing our acting degrees, Richard” Eddie snaps, the apathy on his face gone entirely.

He looks hurt, the same expression he’d been wearing when he’d told Richie he loved him for the very last time at the dining table, before he’d walked out of the door, and out of Richie’s life, nearly fifteen years ago.

Richie doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. They finish reading through the scene. Eddie’s performance doesn’t improve, if anything, it gets worse. Every ‘Swear it!’ delivered with indifference. Tiny verbal bullets that sting every time they hit Richie’s ears. Richie can’t help but recall Eddie’s Lear, powerful and commanding, a harsh juxtaposition to this damp squib of an old King Hamlet.

Almost immediately after Richie had uttered the last line of the scene, Eddie marches over to the door that the other cast members had left through, and disappears. He returns seconds later, accompanied by the rest of the cast.

“We’ll start looking over act one scene two, now. We’ll go back to act one when the whole cast is here, which will be sometime next week. I want to think about staging for scene two, and how we’ll have Claudius and Gertrude situated in relation to Hamlet, I think I’d like you, Ben, over here, and Bill if you can – –“

“Don’t you think we should all introduce ourselves?” Richie interrupts, for a second time.

Eddie just stares at him, eyebrow raised. A challenge. Continue, if you dare.

“I just think we should get to know each other, you know, so we all know where we’ve come from, who we are, what our backgrounds are. I’ll start, so, uh, sup, my dudes, the name’s Richie, and I’ve just come off tour with – –“

“I hardly think that’s relevant” Eddie scoffs, “If you want to spend the precious time we have together making friends, by all means, be my guest, but you’ll be doing it outside of my rehearsal space”

“I just thought it might help improve the chemistry between our characters”

“Do you really think a friendly atmosphere is appropriate for the play in question, Richard?”

“… I mean, I just –“

Richie meets Eddie’s eyes.

“I guess not”

The rest of the rehearsal goes okay. Richie tries not to let it sting too much when Eddie places his hands on Ben’s stomach, above his diaphragm, to help him project his voice, and when he laughs at Mike twirling around the stage In the first mock-up of his Ophelia costume. Richie tries his best to draw Eddie out of his shell, to draw Eddie back to him, repeating jokes that he knows Eddie would have laughed at – did laugh at in the past– but he doesn’t. Their interactions remain cold, clinical and professional.

At the end of the day, the main cast are knackered, but they decide to go to the pub to decompress and get to know each other a bit better. The only members of the cast that make their excuses are the actors playing Polonius, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Shrugging on his coat, Ben shouts out an invitation to Eddie to join them.

“Hey, Eddie! We’re all going to the pub. D’ya fancy it?”

“Uh…”, Eddie replies, eyes flicking over each of the people stood in front of him, before his gaze lands on Richie. Their eyes meet, and do not waver.

“No thanks” Eddie delivers straight to Richie, words that bore straight into the pit of Richie’s stomach. Eddie looks away from Richie, and his tone shifts to something light hearted, the voice Richie had grown to love all those years ago. “I’ve got a lot of preparation to do for tomorrow, we’ve still got a lot to do before we can move onto scene three. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

With that, Eddie leaves the door with a small wave.

“Ah, yes, now we can get to know each other ‘outside of the rehearsal space’. I mean, what the hell was that all about?” Mike asks, holding onto Stan’s shoulder as he tries to escape the folds of fabric keeping him hostage.

“I know” Stan replies, simply, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Don’t!” Richie shouts before he can stop himself.

Everyone looks at him expectantly.

“Uh… I just need to get my coat” Richie mumbles, before slinking into the back cupboard. He smacks his forehead against the wall with a thump, closes his eyes, and breathes.

They decide to go to the pub with the garden with the outdoor heaters, at Richie’s insistence, so that he might indulge his nicotine habit. He’s been gasping for a cigarette all day, but he hadn’t dared ask Eddie if he could slip out for a few minutes.

They squish onto a small picnic table together, and Bill ends up sat comfortably on Ben’s lap, an attempt at navigating the lack of space. Ben’s hands loop comfortably around Bill’s waist, and Richie sends a quirked eyebrow his way, receiving a confused but genuine smile in response.

Richie offers to buy the first round, ‘lead buys first’, and pulls Bill off of Ben’s lap to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

“Is something going on there, Billiam?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Rich” Bill replies, leaning on the bar and tapping his fingers rhythmically on the polished wood.

“Between you and our dear King. Bit of method acting, if you will?” Richie replies, waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m still lost”

“Oh my sweet summer child. Are you, our beloved Queen Gertrude, boning the usurper in chief, King Claudius?”

“You mean – am I fucking Ben?” Bill laughs.

“Yes!”

“I’m pretty sure Beverly would stab me with her knitting needles if I even tried it, mate”

“Ah, you got a lady friend then?”

“Nope. Ben does. Bev is the costume designer for this production. She’s been with Ben for years and this is the first production they’ve worked on together since they got together years ago. It’s super sweet and also super gross because I’ve walked in one them … doing things … what feels like so times and we’ve only been rehearsing for a day!”

Richie threw his head back and laughed, a proper belly laugh that shook his entire body and soul. Bill laughed too, a high-pitched croaky laugh that just made Richie laugh even more. Wiping some stray tears from his eyes, Richie was sure he saw a familiar figure disappear into the toilet, a figure wearing all black and a gauzy scarf.

“I thought Eddie wasn’t coming with us?”

“Huh? He’s not?” Bill replied, confused.

“I swear I just saw him disappear into the toilet” Richie said, still staring at the toilet door, lest he miss the person he was sure was Eddie reappear in the main bar area.

“I need a piss anyway so I’ll go check!”

Bill disappeared into the bathroom, and by the time he’d returned Richie was in the middle of ordering.

“Hey mate, can I get four pints of Somersby and two Punk IPA’s please? – – oh, any luck?”

“Nah, It wasn’t Eddie”

Richie hummed, not entirely convinced.

As they waited for their drinks, Bill started pressuring Richie about the weirdness he’d witnessed between him and Eddie.

“I’ve gotta ask, dude, what was all that about with Eddie? I saw that weird look you shared”

Richie tried to remain as flippant, and disaffected as it was possible to be, given the circumstances.

“Ah, I dunno, man. You know how he is”

“I’ve known him a day, Rich, and judging by the tension between you two that you could cut with a knife, I’m guessing you can’t say the same”

They arrived back at the table, much to Richie’s delight, and he passed out the drinks, hoping that the conversation between him and Bill would get buried by whatever everyone else was talking about.

He was not so lucky.

“Hey Stan, what did you mean when you said that you know why Eddie was being all weird about us getting to know each other?”

“I meant what I said, I know the reason. But I can’t tell you if Richie doesn’t want me to. It’s not my story to tell, I just wanted you all to know that I know”

Bill, who was sitting back on Ben’s lap, just rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Rich, I command thee to tell your mother why the air is most foul between you and master Kaspbrak”

“Do you want the long story or the short story?”

Bill rubbed his chin in faux thought.

“Short, then long if it’s juicy enough”

“We met at school, we fell in love, he broke my heart”

Richie was met with a round of sympathetic hisses and whistles, and a comforting hand on his thigh from Mike.

“Sorry, Kid. We all thought it was something to do with you being late, or something.”

“I mean, that probably didn’t help” Richie tried to laugh, but the words came out strangled.

“What was Eddie like at school?” Ben asked, swatting at Bill who kept trying to put leaves in his beer.

“Um. I dunno – he was, uh, he was brilliant, I guess”

“Wait, hang on” Adrian, who was playing Laertes, interrupted. “Didn’t Eddie go to school in Scotland? And you met Stan at RADA? How… I’m lost. How does that work?”

“Eddie went to RADA for a year before he transferred” Stan supplied, after Richie sent him a panicked look. “Eddie left in the Spring term of first year. He met Richie and I there, and then he left for Edinburgh”

“Why’d he transfer?”

“Ask him yourself, because I still don’t have a fucking clue” Richie replied, bitterly, before draining his pint in one go.

#unpack my heart with words #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #thefutureisbright #ao3

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