eddie kaspbrak. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
klussy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-09-15 10:56 pm
klussy) wrote in deercountry2021-09-15 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
It's getting dark and it's all too quiet
Who: Eddie and Ryan
What: Learning about their blood powers in a VERY emotional way
When: Sometime in September/sort of around sunset, a little after.
Where: The Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy descriptions of poison-like abilities, telepathy, mind-sharing, some vague blood drinking, emotional breakdowns, lowkey existensial crisis mode, panic attacks, trauma/ptsd.
(As the days wore on, Eddie became more and more absent-minded. It was difficult to feel anything, negative or positive, and he felt like he was feeding lines to people rather than having any real connection. Even with Richie, he felt oddly mechanical and as though he was five feet above his own body. He could figure the abstract concept of emotion and understand what he should be displaying, what he should be feeling, but he just wasn't feeling any of them.
Not sorrow. Not joy. Not amusement. Not excitement. Not fear. Nothing.
At first, it had felt peaceful. His mind was usually a clustered parade of noise and panic and emotions that would whiplash him on a regular basis. He hadn't even touched a single Xanax since he arrived here simply because he wasn't panicking. He didn't feel anxious. It had been really nice and he had thought was I cured?
Except if he was "cured" then he was left with almost nothing at all.
And that was somehow worse.
Even without emotions, he knew he didn't want this. It began to crack open a deeper void in him. He wandered out to the ocean because there was some instinctual pull, but not just because he was born from it. But because something within it called to him. Something about the shoreline felt safe. He sat down where the water washed over his feet. He had taken his shoes off, set them aside, and sank Taylor the Turtle in the sand next to him, desperately hoping even one of her songs might muster a stronger emotion in him.
He watched the waves, contemplating, knowing that what he was thinking about doing could worsen it. But he had gone through this before a little over a year ago now. He had a small jar of warmblood in his hand. He rotated it carefully in his palm, thinking, and he didn't know how long he sat on that beach staring at the blood. But eventually, he tipped back and downed the whole thing in a few eager gulps. The moment he tasted it, he could feel it working.
Back to this.
Only it wasn't like before. Before, he needed it to physically live. This? Not so much. He could feel his head clearing almost within moments. Once he's finished, he dropped the bottle aside and just crossed his arms over his knees, watching the ocean. His skin slowly diminished in its sickly green to his more healthy, natural brown, and his teeth became blunter. He started to feel threads of actual emotion sliding through him, and he felt vicious relief. He felt that burst of love and relief knowing that Richie was here, but then a sharp pang of hurt that Richie had to go through Eddie forgetting him.
The emotions were starting to mount, but there was nothing Eddie could really even do. His chest started to flutter, his lungs shrinking down, and all he could think was a roaring panic of I need my inhaler, ma, I'm having an asthma attack, oh God, it's been years since I've had an asthma attack. The jointed memories weren't doing him any favor and he sucks in a deep gasp and immediately begins to cry. Loudly.
The most unusual thing, however, were the thin, wispy black spores that were sliding down his arms, pooling up, and floating up into the air around him. His grey eyes became bright, shining like reflective coins in the evening. The pressure of the air around him was heavy, dense, like a humid summer day, thick to walk through. He doesn't really hear anything as the panic begins to rise because good lord, he had missed a lot of reasonable panic attacks since arriving in Trench.)
What: Learning about their blood powers in a VERY emotional way
When: Sometime in September/sort of around sunset, a little after.
Where: The Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy descriptions of poison-like abilities, telepathy, mind-sharing, some vague blood drinking, emotional breakdowns, lowkey existensial crisis mode, panic attacks, trauma/ptsd.
(As the days wore on, Eddie became more and more absent-minded. It was difficult to feel anything, negative or positive, and he felt like he was feeding lines to people rather than having any real connection. Even with Richie, he felt oddly mechanical and as though he was five feet above his own body. He could figure the abstract concept of emotion and understand what he should be displaying, what he should be feeling, but he just wasn't feeling any of them.
Not sorrow. Not joy. Not amusement. Not excitement. Not fear. Nothing.
At first, it had felt peaceful. His mind was usually a clustered parade of noise and panic and emotions that would whiplash him on a regular basis. He hadn't even touched a single Xanax since he arrived here simply because he wasn't panicking. He didn't feel anxious. It had been really nice and he had thought was I cured?
Except if he was "cured" then he was left with almost nothing at all.
And that was somehow worse.
Even without emotions, he knew he didn't want this. It began to crack open a deeper void in him. He wandered out to the ocean because there was some instinctual pull, but not just because he was born from it. But because something within it called to him. Something about the shoreline felt safe. He sat down where the water washed over his feet. He had taken his shoes off, set them aside, and sank Taylor the Turtle in the sand next to him, desperately hoping even one of her songs might muster a stronger emotion in him.
He watched the waves, contemplating, knowing that what he was thinking about doing could worsen it. But he had gone through this before a little over a year ago now. He had a small jar of warmblood in his hand. He rotated it carefully in his palm, thinking, and he didn't know how long he sat on that beach staring at the blood. But eventually, he tipped back and downed the whole thing in a few eager gulps. The moment he tasted it, he could feel it working.
Back to this.
Only it wasn't like before. Before, he needed it to physically live. This? Not so much. He could feel his head clearing almost within moments. Once he's finished, he dropped the bottle aside and just crossed his arms over his knees, watching the ocean. His skin slowly diminished in its sickly green to his more healthy, natural brown, and his teeth became blunter. He started to feel threads of actual emotion sliding through him, and he felt vicious relief. He felt that burst of love and relief knowing that Richie was here, but then a sharp pang of hurt that Richie had to go through Eddie forgetting him.
The emotions were starting to mount, but there was nothing Eddie could really even do. His chest started to flutter, his lungs shrinking down, and all he could think was a roaring panic of I need my inhaler, ma, I'm having an asthma attack, oh God, it's been years since I've had an asthma attack. The jointed memories weren't doing him any favor and he sucks in a deep gasp and immediately begins to cry. Loudly.
The most unusual thing, however, were the thin, wispy black spores that were sliding down his arms, pooling up, and floating up into the air around him. His grey eyes became bright, shining like reflective coins in the evening. The pressure of the air around him was heavy, dense, like a humid summer day, thick to walk through. He doesn't really hear anything as the panic begins to rise because good lord, he had missed a lot of reasonable panic attacks since arriving in Trench.)
cw: child death, all canon typical violence, ptsd, mental/emotional abuse of children
The word floats to the surface of his mind: poison. That's what this was, wasn't it? That's why we're called vile...
It made him wonder if Ryan should be touching him at all. If anyone should be touching him at all. God, was he hurting Richie this whole time without even realizing it? How had he not put the pieces together yet? I'm so stupid sometimes...so stupid...
Then Ryan's telling him to breathe. It's such a small, simple thing, but when Eddie looks at Ryan next, he doesn't quite see Ryan, but some older version of Richie, steady and guiding. They really did look similar, except for the eyes a little, and the nose. But how many times has Richie told him to just breathe? Breathed with him? During asthma attacks and later panic attacks...?
It's enough to force Eddie to try and breathe with Ryan. Familiarity was going to be Eddie's only comfort at this point, and he'd cling to it. And Ryan was willingly touching him when he was like this, which - what did that even mean?)
I think I'm dangerous to touch.
(Eddie tries to warn him, but he can't be bothered to push him away either. He was always too selfish to really protect people from himself who deserved to be protected. He had never been that good of a person, his fears won out, his insecurity won out. He lets that hand come to rest on his shoulder because he needs that point of contact desperately.
It's like a chaotic film reel. It's not just thoughts, but splintered memories, some terrifying, of clowns devouring children in a few, gory chomps. His mother, immense and overwhelming, her voice loud and pronounced, booming over everything: You're too sick, Eddie. You're just so delicate...You can't be running with everyone else...Your asthma... Jeering faces in hallways, cruel words thrown at his femininity, his interest in boys, all melting together.
But there were beautiful things too. Memories of kids he once loved but could no longer remember, their faces a literal blur, or their heads turned away. Memories of Richie smiling at him, freckled and near, touching his hand for the first time alone when they were only nine and Eddie still didn't understand why it made his stomach flutter so much. Richie holding him close when he was upset or telling him to buck up, you're not the coward you think you are.
There are other memories, other people. A red-haired woman, tall and stern, but reassuring. A blue-haired girl resting in bed next to him, them bumping shoulders and making crude jokes. There's the first time he kissed Richie for real, their promise. There's death. But there's life. There's constant heartbreak, longing, and constant relief, and timid love. There's unfathomable pain and fear, and more than anything else, there's constant anxiety. A crushing sense of growing paranoia - even tinging the happier things. There's everything and Eddie couldn't break it down into one constant stream of thought.
Among it all, however, is an obvious fracturing sense of confusion. Like the pieces aren't really aligned the way they should be in a regular head. It's not just Eddie's feelings, but it's like someone had spilled bleach all over the film reels, cut them up, left some out, and pasted them all together in the wrong order. There's a genuine sense of confusion and an even more genuine sense that entire memories were just gone. A blurring of what Eddie thinks happened, what really happened: did a boy break his arm or did he fall out of a tree? Or was it the clown? Did he fall through the floor of a building? It's impossible to tell anymore.)
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Under it all there's an electric static now, like a snowy television. Even Eddie might be able to hear it, mingling in with his memories.
There are new memories in the mix as well - ones that don't belong to Eddie that are bleeding through in response before Ryan can do anything about it. The only thing he can do is ride the heavy current at first and hope they don't hit a metaphorical waterfall.
The sight of the clown brings out memory of a monster made entirely out of hands and arms lurking behind a young man - Min-Gi, he will instinctively know. Its feet are hands. Its face is hands. And-- it cuts to the aftermath, to Min-Gi with his hands on his knees and breathing hard on a train platform, tears pricking his eyes and looking completely betrayed.
There are rough times as well. Arguments with people who look like Ryan but have never really been his people. Far too many siblings and far too many memories of being outright ignored because someone else had more important things going on. Memories of acting out just to get someone, anyone to look at him.
There's a moment in a diner of plotting out an entire future with Min-Gi, though they couldn't have been more than thirteen or so. There is so much talk of dreams and Min-Gi is always present in each one. There are sleepovers where they stay up all night talking about everything and nothing, and there are jam sessions in Min-Gi's living room. Countless memories of hugging Min-Gi just a moment longer than appropriate because he wanted to hold him close. There are no other kids in Ryan's memories - it's only ever been him and Min-Gi.
Until it wasn't.
There is a sadness so deep it might hit the ocean floor, a loneliness that can't be put into mere words. Endless hours driving through rural Canada in his dad's old van with a broken radio--
That is the point where Ryan starts trying to hit the brakes. He doesn't let go of Eddie, but he also doesn't know exactly what he's doing or if it will be helpful to keep holding on. Really there's only one way to find out.
Eddie will hear Ryan's voice cut through everything, desperately saying "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop--" until for a moment it's just Eddie's memories again. It feels tenuous though, as though he might lose his grip at any second and get pulled along again.]
I'm--
[Wait, no. Maybe it's better to say it directly into his thoughts.
"I'm going to try something. Just keep breathing with me, okay? In and out. In and out. You're doing good."
Ryan does breathe right along with him, trying to steady himself as much as Eddie. He's only done something even vaguely like this once so far, but that's never stopped him from trying something before. He thinks hard (but not too hard, per Mako's advice) about...something happy. Something distracting.
"Try and stay with me, okay?"
It takes him a moment to figure out what to do, as if he's adjusting the dial on a radio. This time, Ryan pushes a new memory into Eddie's head - one of a scrawny six year old in face paint and his best friend putting on a backyard concert with the greatest song in the world.
And Ryan will attempt to play that song, on loop, to try and drown out the more overwhelming thoughts.]
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It crystalizes a nearly perfect memory in Eddie's mind, or a future vision, rather, of Eddie, dead, missing his arm, bleeding out. Alone. In a dark, hideous place filled with dead children, his gray eyes glazed and staring up, abandoned by the only people who he has ever loved, and who he had thought loved him. Alone.
Completely and utterly alone. It's a poignant thought, and then the memory glides effortlessly to Eddie, in a slightly younger version of himself, alone in a bed, staring at the ceiling, as he experienced time and time again with Richie vanishing from the world and the absolute destruction of his heart it had caused each and every time. The mess he was left after Chloe vanished. After Moira. After Bill. After Ben. After so many names, so many faces that it's too much.
It's so much that it becomes nothing. Eddie's floating, the noise stopping either because of Ryan's own mantras of 'stop' or because it was such an overwhelming feeling that it dominated the rest. It was an anchor, even if it was a miserable one.
Then there's one clear thought: "I'm glad we're not alone anymore."
Eddie's floating now. Mentally, anyway, the spores thick around them, his gray eyes beacons in the dark. He's gone quiet, though tears still track his face. Unbeknownst to him, the ocean near them has gone still. As if anticipating what was going to happen next.
He's in the perfect spot for Ryan to push. It's such a - distinct memory. Eddie lets it soak over him. It somehow feels completely familiar despite not being his own. Maybe it's the effortless support between the boys, one he's shown Richie whenever Richie's jokes flopped in public and Eddie felt that slow social awkward burn, but tried to smile anyway.
After feeling the memory sink in, for minutes, again and again, Eddie tries to work something back. A dark attic, Richie and Eddie under a blanket tent with a lamp between them. The boys on their bellies, pouring over some western comic book. Richie was reading the voices dramatically, and Eddie kept gasping with laughter, and Richie kept looking so proud. Then at some point, Richie just grabs Eddie's cheek to pinch it, calling him cute so many times Eddie burst red with color and began to shriek at him to stop. He loops the memory. There's no song in this one, but the sound of Richie's stupid Voices and him laughing felt as good as any.
It was working.)
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He plans to repeat it as many times as he needs to until things are calmer in their minds, but he's relieved when he doesn't have to - when Eddie reaches back and brings his own good thought to the table. It's something deeply familiar to Ryan - he and Min-Gi have had so many sleepovers like this. Watching Richie reading with goofy voices is the moment it really hits him how much he looks like a younger and probably funnier version of himself. It's so easy to picture himself and Min-Gi in the same scene, with him trying to make Min laugh until he cried.
After watching Eddie's for a few minutes, just enjoying the two of them enjoying each other's company, Ryan brings forth a memory of one of his sleepovers with Min, when they were about nine or so. Once they're alone, Ryan conspiratorially shows off an ABBA record that he pretty clearly stole from one of sisters. Min laughs, and they play it over and over and over on Min's record player until they can sing half the songs word for word. The moment jump cuts again to Min-Gi plinking out the notes to Mamma Mia on his stylophone and Ryan very dramatically singing along and dancing (and thankfully, Ryan's voice is already getting better with three more years of practice). Min-Gi can barely keep a straight face as Ryan over-acts every single line, though other lyrics make his cheeks go pink.
Ryan fondly remembers liking that feeling - the feeling of making someone he likes a lot blush. It's especially fun to get Min-Gi singing along anyway, despite himself.
Gently, the real Ryan tests the waters with the real Eddie and checks in.
"Feeling a little better, bud?"]
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Eddie feels familiar warmth sink into his gut. He wondered if that was how Richie felt whenever he tried to make Eddie laugh if he ever felt embarrassed or nervous. How many times had Richie managed to make him blush too? Eddie finds himself wishing he could meet Min-Gi too, if only because he felt like they would get each other. Few people understood what it was like to have a Richie-or-a-Ryan in their lives.
Eddie nearly forgets what's happening in the real world. The black spores have become suspended in the air, slowly evaporating. The pressure has lightened up. Eddie still didn't look great, but he didn't look like some black sickness was about to erupt from his body anymore either. He felt a little drugged, foggy, and he still felt some crushing anxiety, but it wasn't anywhere near where it had been.
He stares at Ryan, the brightness of his eyes diminishing more to a shine than a glow.)
I think so.
(His voice came out hoarse, weak. He had been screaming and crying for longer than he even realized. He rubs his hands over his face, half embarrassed, but half too tired to feel that embarrassed or vulnerable. After all, they had just exposed themselves to each other. It hadn't just been Eddie's mind on display.)
I'm...I'm sorry. I...("I don't know what happened. I just ...drank some blood and all of a sudden, I felt everything again.")
I told you I'm a total spaz. (It's a miserable attempt at a joke and a hint of honesty, but Ryan deserved to hear it anyway for what he just put up with.)
I don't know what's happening to me. (A beat later, because he notices the spores that still speckle in the air. He can tell something's wrong, something's off, but he's not entirely sure what.)
Does it hurt?
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He nearly forgot about the spores himself, and now that his eyes are open he watches them for a moment. They really are evaporating slowly before their eyes, and Ryan finds he doesn't have many answers for Eddie. He shakes his head.]
No, I'm good. Really. Everything was weird and heavy, but it didn't hurt.
[Those little spores sure look like they should be hurting him though. There's just something about them that looks toxic, like breathing in mold. There's no way he didn't breathe in some of it, but...he's okay, against all odds.]
Heh. I guess you did warn me. You totally don't have to be sorry though. I...
[Ryan hesitates, struggling for the words he wants.]
...I didn't know that was going to happen? I probably should've figured with all the blood stuff, but. I didn't. So, sorry about...you know. All that.
["All that" is apparently his attempt to describe every thing he accidentally shoved into Eddie's head before he started figuring out how to do it on purpose. Eddie didn't need like any of that on top of what he was already going through.
He offers up a smile anyway though, spinning it carefully into something lighter. The apology felt necessary, but he doesn't linger on it long.]
One hell of a way to get to know someone though!
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Good. Cool. Let me know if that uh - changes.
(The calmer he became, the less spores. He realized that and tried hard to focus, to do something. He had never been a master of his own emotions though, but it was easier with a rooted presence like Ryan. He half doesn't want the touch to end, but he lets it for Ryan's own sake.)
No, man. No apologies necessary. You uh didn't even have to help me just now.
(He could have just walked away. Pretended like he didn't hear Eddie. People had before. It was the Derry way, practically. He curls his arms around his knees, tugging them towards his chest. He looked more his age, more human than when he first met Ryan. Without the weird green skin and weird teeth. Now that the spores were vanishing, his skin was becoming a more natural shade.)
Jeeesus. (He blushes hotly, groaning lowly.)
Yeah. That's...the fucking Deerington way, all right. We're not there anymore but that was so fucking classic of the bullshit we'd go through. If you think you've got a secret you might as well say goodbye to it goddamn now. Nothing's personal in this kind of place.
(He looks over at Ryan, feeling tentatively shy. Mostly because...Well.)
Um. Sorry you had to see...more personal stuff. That's probably like, super awkward.
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[If he hadn't known Eddie he might have given him privacy, but the fact that it was a friend suffering was reason enough for him to butt in.
Hearing that this sort of thing is common is...difficult. It's not that he considers himself to have big terrible secrets, not really. There are things he's guilty about though, and parts of his life that were extremely difficult. Things that he would rather just gloss over and bury so he never has to think about them again.
The thought of this strange blood magic pulling that out of him by force ties a knot in his throat.]
You saw some of mine too, so if I don't have to be sorry then neither do you. We'll just...both be awkward? It's cool. Don't worry about it.
[He knows from experience with Min that it won't necessarily make him stop worrying about it, but sometimes it helps a little to say it and assert that it's not something he's worrying about.]
Actually, you're looking a little better too. Like, not so green around the edges? I have no idea what happened, but something happened there.
[Is it good? Bad? Who knows in this world! Ryan doesn't roll up his sleeves, but he holds out his hand for Eddie to compare to, if that might help. His own skin is a gentle tan, and when he turns his hand palm-side up it reveals that his most visible veins are now a faint white color, as though someone drew them on in white ink.]
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(Only...)
Thank you though. For helping.
(His voice barely makes a sound over the waves of the ocean, but it's evident he means it. He still felt like his edges were completely frayed, and like he might go off into another hysterical tangent, but for now, things were steady. He turns his eyes to the ocean, watching the way the moon caught off the edges and made it look like the water was filled with copper.
He felt better.
He felt a lot better.)
I drank some blood. (He might as well admit it. The emptied jar was next to him, half-buried in the sand by now, but it's clear enough at a glance what had been in it moments before.)
I've been something like this before. Only the first time I was a vampire, I needed it to live. This time, I guess I need it to...
(Feel. He's not sure if that's better or worse. Eddie looks back over at Ryan, and now that he wasn't having the world's biggest, loudest panic attack, he actually realizes that Ryan was looking weird himself. His eyes widen marginally and he shifts around in the sand to face Ryan more head-on.)
Dude.
(He grabs Ryan's hand instinctively, cradling it gently in his own, sliding a thumb into the dip of Ryan's palm.)
This blood shit is complex. Wow. I take it you don't normally glow from the inside out?
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[After all, it seems like Eddie really needed it. He has no regrets here.
He raises an eyebrow as Eddie starts telling his story. The look on Ryan's face is a very specific one - one that isn't exactly judging but still says very clearly "how the hell is someone a vampire more than once?". Still, he just listens and lets Eddie say what he wants to say.
When Eddie takes his palm though, Ryan half-expects something to happen - as though he'll plague Eddie's brain with more memories, or project his thoughts, or whatever else his powers might do. But nothing does, at least for now.]
--oh. Right, yeah. Not usually! It's been happening when I'm outside at night for some reason. Also I thiiiiink I might be nocturnal now? Maybe?
[He shrugs, like this is a normal development. It feels like late morning for him even though it's clearly dusk.]
It looks super weird though...like, not-human weird. We kinda knew that already with the blood stuff, but. I dunno, it's different looking at it on my arms?