#far as i can tell theres a small handful of gay bars and thats it

[someguyiguess]

i didnt plan far enough ahead so now instead of like. a karaoke bar or a gay bar or some fun shit im spending my birthday at an arcade bar. which like. sure whatever. but. not my thing, y’know. i coulda done karaoke in my slutty little dress but no im stupid and lack foresight.

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 2/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 2: What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?, What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t? & Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast 

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster​, @s-s-georgie​, @mikeuris​, @gazebobullshit​, @that-weird-girls-blog​, @tozierking​​​, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @s-onora​, @bellarosewrites​, @lermanslogan​, @ambitiousskychild​, @ghostnebula​, @vanillaredvelvet​,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 2

What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?

He loves Beverly, he really does, but right now, in this gigantic crowd of people, he hates her. Really, really hates her. He thinks that everything and everyone (mildly excluding Ben, Beverly, Bill, Mike, and Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie) is out to kill him. Two groups of teenagers tried to sell him drugs, or something —he wouldn’t know. He ran away before they could say anything.

It was loud, and hot, and made Eddie, really, really uncomfortable. As much as he tried to avoid the touches of every person jumping around to whatever incomprehensible song was being shouted —yes, he meant shouted — it was too cramped. “You okay there?” Eddie heard a voice behind him ask, loudly. As he looked in that direction, Eddie decided that speaking would be useless, so he simply shook his head. He let Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie or, simply, Richie, take his hand and lead him out. “You looked really uncomfortable,” Richie smiled, laughing a bit.

“Uh, yeah, don’t do that well with big crowds and everything,” Eddie shrugged, attempting to look ‘cool.’

Richie laughed, “Lets go.”

“But, the concert?”

“I’ve seen ‘em before,” Richie shook his head, “I’ll take you back home, its pretty late anyway.”

“Thanks,” Eddie smiled as he took Richie’s outstretched hand.

“Where is your place?” Richie asked him, crossing the pedestrian.

“I uh, live with Ben and Bev.”

“That mansion? Well, I guess when the husband is an architect and the wife is a designer you get the Buckingham fucking Palace.” Eddie laughed at that (as much as he tried to hide it.)

“But, yeah, I’m staying at Ben and Bev’s while I’m here.”

“While you’re here?” Richie nods

“I don’t live in LA, I’m from New York,” Eddie replied.

“I didn’t think you were from here,” Richie smiled, walking backward to face Eddie.

“That’s dangerous.”

“And thats,” Richie points at Eddie “no fun.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, moving away from the topic, “Its like you guys have your own planet here,” he says, scanning the scenery.

“Says the New Yorker,” Richie said sarcastically.

Eddie gave him a questioning look, trying to hide a smile. “You know, all the big pretty buildings and broadway, and all the big movies,” Richie jokes in a horrible Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t-don’t do that,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Thats my career.” Richie grinned walking into the subway.

Eddie ignored that, “I thought LA was all cars?” He asked.

“It is. I’m doing a kind of project thing though,” Richie smiles talking Eddie’s hand. That slightly throwing Eddie off. “See?” Richie points to a vinyl (yes, Eddie learned the word) with their intertwined fingers.

“I don’t think I understand,” Eddie says looking at Richie.

“I don’t think you need to,” Richie winks, seating Eddie further from the vinyl.

“For a comedian, you’re not funny.”

“Come to one of my shows then. Got one tomorrow night.” Richie winks.

“Sure.”

Richie stops himself before he says ‘its a date.’

“Where did you go?” Beverly asked Eddie as he walked into the kitchen where the rest of the group was standing.

“I went back here,” Eddie says, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room as he holds back a ‘and kind of got a date. Kind of. Well, no it isn’t a date. I’m just gonna watch his show-’

“Richie ‘went back here,’ too?”

“Oh- no, he just… it was really late and he-he walked and rode the train with me back here.” Eddie replied. Ben, Beverly, Bill, and Mike all exchanged looks while he wasn’t looking. “I uh- speaking of Richie though, what does he even do?” He asked, trying to be subtle. Keyword: trying.

Ben tried to hide a laugh, “Besides working at the shop he does some comedy, I thought we told you already?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh anyway, does he even have shows?”

Deciding that he didn’t want this conversation to last too long since Eddie would never bring up what he really wants to say, “He’s got a show tomorrow n-night, I think,” Bill says looking at Ben and Beverly, “Think we can watch it?”

“Totally, its at a bar not too far from here,” Ben smiles.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie says quickly, thankful that his friends ‘didn’t’ notice how much he wanted to go.

~~~

Eddie was alone on Sunday morning, tired after the concert the night before, —despite not being there for half of it—and he woke up at around 10. His four other momentary housemates were out for the day on whatever they were planning on doing on a Sunday morning in Los Angeles —he wondered what there is to do. Which made Eddie feel painfully single, but also made him feel a little better. An abnormal creek came from downstairs he shut the door to his bedroom, ‘I must’ve just imagined it, I need coffee.’

A loud crash sound rang inside the house and followed Eddie to the first floor. He ran into the kitchen, grabbed the first thing he could find, and rushed toward the direction of the sound, prepared to hit. “Holy fuck, please no!” Richie shouted, hands above his head, dropping the coat rack he was trying to put straight back up. Eddie dropped the pan in his hands and sighed, relieved. “What the fuck is this? Tangled?” Richie laughed, breathlessly.

“Asshole. I thought there was some, I don’t know, a psychopathic- killer- clown that broke into the house out to kill me.”

“I- I’m not even gonna fucking ask.”

Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes, ”why are you here anyway?”

“Just picking up something, what are you doing here?” Richie asked, ‘well shit. Now I look like an idiot.’

“Told you. I’m staying here.” Eddie answered returning the pan to the kitchen.

“Uh, right,” Richie awkwardly said, wanting to fill the silence. As much as he wanted to ask, ‘are you coming to my show tonight?’ He didn’t and instead, “so, how’s your mom doing? She okay after last night?”

“Ew. That’s disgusting,” Eddie said his face scrunching up, “I, uh, I’m going.”

As if he read Richie’s mind he clarified, “I’m going to your show.”

“Neat.” Richie smiled widely, “uh no. Not neat. No! Not that is it’s ‘not neat’ for you to come to my show, I mean not neat. Like, not the word ‘neat’. Jeez. Uh—“

“Yeah, neat.” Eddie laughed, “weren’t you going to get something?” He knew he was winning this.

“Oh right, uh,” The man in glasses began to walk towards the library —it wasn’t actually a library just an extra room Ben and Beverly filled with books and music things (Eddie honestly didn't know what they were). Again, their house is fucking like a mansion— and Richie came out with vinyl in his hands, “they borrowed it,” He said shaking it.

“Have you heard it before?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says walking closer.

“Lets go then,” Richie smirks going back into the room, putting in the vinyl. ‘Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon’ rang the player, ‘Loretta's singing on the radio’

"Smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon” Richie sung.

“What is that?” Eddie asked.

“‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’, Lucinda Williams,” Richie replied just as the same line played.

“What kind of song even is that? Its all guitar but not-”

“First, its country and rock. Alt-Country. Second, not all songs with guitars have to sound like ‘The Carpal Tunnel Of Love’ or something,”

“I don’t even wanna what that is,” Eddie rolled his eyes, looking at the player —he didn’t actually know what it was called.

“You live under a rock. Not even a single rock— you-you live in a fucking cave.”

“Half the people I know don’t know what that is.” But Richie was already picking up a new vinyl — ‘is that a fucking sheep?’ Eddie wondered once he saw the cover.

Richie set the —‘what the fuck is that’ Eddie thought— on a place over the vinyl. “We take sour sips from life's lush lips” Richie sung, smiling at Eddie.

“Its so loud. What the fuck is that?” Richie just kept on singing.

“Whoa-oh, we're so miserable and stunning,” Richie sang. As, much as Eddie didn’t want to admit it, he sounded amazing.

“This is so loud. I’m not doing this,” Eddie said walking out of the room. The song being loud was the reason, he promised. It wasn’t because he knew he would lose it if he kept going, it was just loud.

“Hey, what? Eddie, wait!” Richie said stopping the music and tripping over himself to get to the door. “Have you been walking through life with earplugs on? Jeez,” Richie checked his watch, “shit, I’m gonna head back to the store. I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie thought his heart stopped for a moment, and then he remembered he was going to Richie’s show. Nothing more. Because it shouldn’t be anything more. “Yeah,” Eddie said, watching as Richie walked out the door.

~~~

Eddie was alone in his room Sunday night, (or Monday morning? He couldn’t tell) tired of laughing, tired of being so far away from Richie. His set was amazing (not that Eddie would tell him that.) So maybe he was feeling something. Maybe he was feeling a lot. That doesn’t mean he must fall into Richie's arms. Or should fall into his arms —he thinks that Richie definitely can his hands and shoulders and just his arms are so big. He knows he shouldn’t fall in love again. The last time didn’t do well for him, and he had known her for years before they even started dating. And much longer before they got married. He shouldn’t be feeling this. But what if he was?

What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t?

As he walked out of the door from the Marsh’s house, he headed for the trains once again. Something in his head was pulling him away, not wanting him to continue the project, but what if its what’s good for him? What if Eddie didn’t like him the same way? This might continue to be like Connor. I mean, they saw each other in the store and started talking after ditching a concert? Is that how love was supposed to go? How is love supposed to go? On the other hand, Ben and Bev seem to like him. He trusts Ben and Bev. He trusts Eddie. But what if Eddie shouldn’t be trusted? This was something all too fragile.

Richie walked into the train, looking down on the vinyl he played Eddie. He took out the Sharpie from his pocket prepared to write on ‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’ but then his phone let out a ‘ping’ He opened his phone to a group chat with Stan, Patty, Ben, and Bev called: ‘The Four Hets Who Help With The Vinyl Project Thing’ —Richie was also surprised that it fits there.

Patty: Good luck on your date today!!! Stan: Yeah, have fun, rich. Ben: Tell us everything once its done :) Ben: By the way, Stan and Patty, we’re almost there. Stan: See you guys. Bev: Thats great and I absolutely love that for you. But I thought you were with [redacted] [Bev Deleted a Message.]

Richie didn’t catch what Beverly had written, but if it was deleted it probably wasn’t important. Richie opened the mail app on his phone to see the email that got him this date again. He had gotten it the day after he left Hot Fuss on the train, and he, Patty, and Stan had eaten out that night.

Subject: I found your vinyl From: Adam Wilson <@AdAmWIlsOn> To: Richie Toz <@Remembering_Records> 

  ‘Hey, Richie. My name’s Adam. I found the Hot Fuss album you left on the train a few weeks ago. I used to love listening to The Killers but work took so much of my time that I didn’t get to listen to them much anymore, but when I listened to your album, I felt like I finally relaxed, you know? I absolutely love Mr. Brightside but Somebody Told Me is still running through my head (Smile Like You Mean it doesn’t even need to be said. Its perfect. Oh man but then there’s also All These Things That I’ve Done. The Killers are just perfect.)

I should probably tell you somethings about me. I’m a doctor. I moved here from Manchester, UK, around a week ago to start a new job. I also volunteer at animal shelters in my spare time.

If I don’t sound like a serial killer and you’re interested, I really would love a date.

P.S. Mr. Brightside or Miss Atomic Bomb?

Richie had replied to him simply and fairly quickly (he chose Mr. Brightside.) He was heading there now, over to a restaurant downtown. He looked back down at the vinyl in his hands, just as he remembered Eddie smile and laugh awkwardly when he didn’t know what was going on. There was something about Eddie. Richie had no clue what it was, or what it made him feel, but there was definitely something there. He’s never felt this way before. Not with his friends, not with his hookups, not with Connor. It isn’t that he didn’t like it. He just had to be careful with it.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t leave them in the subway. He has time to bring them home first, right?

~~~

Richie walked into the restaurant, almost an hour late. By the time he had gotten home, he and Adam were already supposed to be meeting up, since the train he was previously on was going in the opposite direction. He then decided that riding his car would be faster than taking the trains, but the traffic was unbearable. He had taken a few wrong turns heading to the restaurant, too. Not that he didn’t know the place, there was a concert a few streets away that blocked some of the streets. So, exactly 53 minutes and 20 seconds late for his date, he stood there. As expected, Adam wasn’t there anymore.

Richie walked into the backseat of his car, kicking the chair in front of him. Of course, he messed up his first date in years. Fucking years. The one guy was interested in him, now gone, because he- what was he even doing? If he just dropped the two pieces of vinyl, he could’ve gotten this date and would’ve had two or more possible other ones. He wouldn’t blame Eddie for this failed date. He couldn’t. That was all on him.

At least he picked a restaurant close to the bar he was doing his show at. Richie wiped at his tears and climbed into the front of the car. Driving down a few streets, he walked up to the ‘Golden Rookie’ sign at the front of his favourite bar. Taking a deep breath, and willing himself not to puke, he jogged backstage to see Riley rolling her eyes at him.

“Failed date,” Richie smiled jogging on to the stage.

“Hello and goodnight, everybody!” he began, earning applause from a few of the regulars. "So, I checked Twitter this morning and..." he began slightly walking around the stage. He scanned the room, and there, far at the back was Eddie Kaspbrak, slightly smiling at the stage. Eddie was still in his work clothes, a suit and tie. His grin somehow both left and widened the moment they caught eyes.

When Richie got home that night, he thought that his set was the best one he’s done in a while. He wondered why.

Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast Eddie wondered what that sound was. It was loud, he didn’t think it was loud for anyone else. It sounded- it sounded like if a pebble hit glass without breaking it. Weird. Eddie looked around the room, the continuous clattering waking him up. “What the fuck is that?” He muttered, walking over to the window. Richie Tozier was standing outside his window, waving at him like a maniac. “What the fuck are you doing here? Its the middle of the night, Richie!” Eddie whispered loudly (he wondered how that worked) once he opened his window.

“Its actually Tuesday morning,” Richie smiled, “C’ mere!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “go to the front fucking door.”

He changed clothes quickly, trying not to look like he fixed up before seeing Richie. What was he doing? Its the middle of the- its Monday morning, and he's going to go with a stranger to who knows where. He's probably going insane. This was probably a dream, why would this happen if he were awake? Though, a part of him wished it wasn't a dream.

Down the stairs and out the door on to the porch, “What the fuck Richie? Its,” he looked at his phone, “its five in the morning.” He saw a guitar around Richie’s shoulders, (huge shoulders) deciding not to ask.

Richie hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we’re getting breakfast,” Richie said as he locks fingers with Eddie.

“Its five in the morning,” Eddie repeated.

“We’re getting breakfast.”

“At… five in the fucking morning?”

“Yup. There’s a nice diner somewhere here, we can walk.”

“I hope you know I think you’re crazy. The sun isn’t even up.” Richie just nodded.

The two walked to the diner together in silence. Eddie wasn’t uncomfortable, just, surprised. There was a ‘comfortable’ silence between the two, Eddie never really had that before. He was always used to the controlling words, and reminders and the arguing with Myra. He didn’t see his friends much because of work, so when they would meet up, there was never silence. And now there’s Richie, who he barely knows anything about, holding his hand at a time too early, as they walk towards a diner in a city Eddie doesn’t even live in. ‘Its nice’ he thinks, as they walk into the diner. It surprises Eddie, how much it looks like the diners in movies. But everything (and everyone- some more than others) in Los Angeles surprise him. ‘Most things surprise me’, he guesses, ‘I don’t go out much.’ But he knew better than that.

The two took their orders hands still intertwined under the table. “Why are we here?” Eddie asked, now sitting across from Richie.

“Ask that again in,” Richie looked down at his watch, “In 32 minutes, and 19 seconds.”

“Thats weird, but you aren’t going to tell me anything about that until then.”

“Right. So, lets talk about something else. How’d you like my show?”

“You like your praise. Its not that bad.”

“Just ‘not that bad’?”

“Yup, just ‘not that bad.’”

“I had a clear view of you from the stage. I didn’t know you could smile, Eds.”

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’ Not my name.”

“Whatever you say, Spaghetti,” Richie said as Eddie rolled his eyes, “Do you have work today?”

“Actually, no. Bill and Mike are doing all I need today since I covered them a few days ago. Why?”

“Mind if I borrowed you for the rest of the day?” Richie smirked. (Eddie wanted to hate that smirk, he really did, he just couldn’t.)

“Yes. I do mind. I need a break.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you the world’s best break.”

Eddie sighed, “Please don’t. I’m scared.”

“Come on, I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” He did. “You know what, whatever. Just- why am I here?”

“Look out the window,” Richie nodded.

“Look out the- what?” Eddie said, confused. He turned his head and, "Woah."

Eddie saw, through the trees and the buildings on the horizon, a soft sunrise. Whoever painted the sky in the early mornings, Eddie praised them. “Its pretty, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered, looking over at Richie, who was grinning widely.

“You should see the sunset after it rains. Its beautiful,” Richie held back, ‘kinda like you’.

[jaystar101-blog]

Blog 1: The wrong side of twenty: Flirt Culture.

I was just reminiscing about the film, The House Bunny, the other day. Have you seen it? Do you remember the scene where Shelley is trying to teach the other girls how to flirt? “Your biceps are huge, kiss me.” and then he would kiss me.”

Biceps Laughs aside, if only it were that simple.

Let’s talk about flirt culture. What is it? Who knows how to successfully take part?  Who knows what to say, what to do, is anyone naturally that smooth? or is it something that you’re born with? Hell, maybe its Maybeline.

These are the questions I want answered... along with why,The house Bunny didn't take more at the box office. Seriously guys, that movie is hilarious.

As I may or may not have mentioned, I myself find it 100x more difficult to navigate my way around the dating scene, as a result of having a same sex attraction to men. Seriously, being gay is like a piece of paper. Fold it in half and one half is the gay community, fold that half in half and the new half is now the gay community in your city. Fold that half in half and that represents guys around your age with similar interests and hobbies, fold that half in half and that represents the guys around your age with similar interests and hobbies that you actually like, and that could potentially like you back. Do you catch my drift?

It’s a jungle out there, or a really really small piece of paper.

Sorry. Im introducing too many examples and common phrases. Point is, its no walk in the park...I'm doing it again.

So what can be done? Well for years I haven't done anything. Ive just gone through life wondering whether or not the guy I served at work that gave me the serious side eye was actually interested, or was just really happy with my customer service the $15 leather protecter he just bought for his shoes.

Surely though, there must be foreseeable signs.

So at this current moment in time I’m the only one that is allowed to do the banking at my work. This is not because I’m the manager, but actually because of this tall dark and handsome bank assistant that greets me every time I walk in to make a deposit.

Now, at first I thought he was just doing his job, smiling politely and handing me my ticket, but one day I came in and he already had my ticket ready, and with a sizable smile, casually mentioned, “I’ve memorised you.”

Memorised me? I didn't realise I was memorisable. Is that a good thing or is that more of a “oh this guy, its that time of day again that this stupid little dweep does his banking.”

Its really hard to tell, guys.

Me, being ever so gracious and charming, offered but a casual smile and took the ticket with a “so you have. Thank you” and took a seat. I wish I could have thought of something witty to say but honestly coffee only gets me so far in one day, and it was already around 2pm.

But wait theres more. Another time I went in, and he told me to come back because the cue was really long. How sweet, right? Maybe he just hoped I’d take the hint and use a different bank...

On my return, I took a seat and noticed he was dealing with these difficult foreign customers who were making a grandeo fuss about bank account security, like its such a drag to have to keep your money, your money. I mean, I would totally get the inconvenience, if I actually had any of my own, but I digress. Mr TDH, (I've abbreviated tall dark and handsome because I don't want to have to keep typing it, I hope that’s okay with you) was assisting them and he looked over on occasion, shooting me a ‘these custy’s are really making me feel uncomfortable’ kind of look, which was quite adorable if I’m being honest. I shot him a knowing smirk, and then it happened. He asked me what my number was. No, not my actual digits, silly.

Unfortunately, he was talking about my ticket number. I told him with that same smile, before he turned back to dealing with his irksome customers.

I didn't know what to make of this. On the one hand I was like, that was random, why would he need to know that? He’s not at the tellers and he is with customers, but then I was like,  maybe it was an attempt to make conversation with me. Mr TDH didn't ask the woman that walked in after me what her number was, no sir!

That’s the thing though, was it flirting, or was it just filling in a moment while his customers lulled something over amongst themselves? God knows. I could sit here all night mulling it over and still be totally unsure. Men need manuals.

I haven't encountered Mr TDH again since, mostly on account of the recent easter break, and im guessing different working schedules, but I’m really not sure what my next move should be, if anything. This is what I don't understand. I always hear of people getting phone numbers left by customers in cafes, bars, restaurants, or just by people on the street, (even if they are weirdos),hell, a girl I used to work with got asked out on the damn shop floor! I’m reaching for the ‘this is bullshit’ key as I write this but realise it’s actually strangely absent from my keyboard.

Come on, apple.

Point is, why the fack (yes I said fack) is this happening in real life to people, and not even just to people in general, people I know, which makes it even more insulting. I can honestly say I have never once received a number from a customer that didn't want me to call them for anything other than for letting them know their goods have arrived in store safely. Nor have I ever had anyone (weirdos included) hit on me on the street, although I did have a homeless woman serenade me with Blank space by Taylor Swift one time, but thats a whole new discussion and I think she just wanted all that money I don't have that I touched on earlier.

Where do these people live? These forward asking people out people people? Are they real everyday people, or do they have their own agenda? What possesses an everyday person in an everyday situation to take it that step further with someone they are having an interaction with? Especially when there is a real chance it could all go so terribly south. I’m of the belief these people are all some kind of super beings that have somehow evolved passed the care factor of rejection, not even if its weird... and here I am having to turn the tv off when something socially awkward happens to a fictional character in a tv show. Maybe I’m the one with the real problem. Maybe they can sense it, and that’s why they don't bother with me. I’m on some secret blacklist or something. That has to be it, right? I’ll take your silence as a sign of agreement.

I do realise Ive gotten a bit silly. But seriously, I understand that people read cues, and are able to act on those cues, I’ve just always found I've been really unaware of them, and maybe this is why I haven't picked up on the rare occasion this might have happened to me. I mean, short of asking me out point blank, I think someone would have to slap me in the face with the D palm of their hand to snap me out of it and realise what was going on.

Regardless, I venture on.

I don’t know about you, but all this dating and flirting talk is all just too hairy for me to navigate most of the time. I may not have a date lined up for this evening, or any cute guys flirting with me on the daily, but I do have my $3 7/11 latte in one hand, and my phone in the other, scrolling through meme upon meme on my way to work every morning. So I ask myself, whose the real loser here?

Besides, I own, The House Bunny, on DVD.