-- &quot;if you believe it does.&quot;

George's grin widened, and he couldn't help laughing a little at Eddie's expense. "Billy's shorter than me, too, you know." He took a moment to actually think about it, before adding, "Actually, I think Mike's the only one who's taller than me, now."

He shrugged, not really thinking much more of it. "There are worse things than being short, you know. . . At least everyone takes you seriously."

There weren't a lot of reasons to take him seriously, a mentally ill man who could barely sign his own name and needed to be reminded to eat. "But you were serious even when we were kids," George mused. "I remember that much. . . You took care of everyone."

"Takes me seriously?" Eddie asked, his eyes widening at the question. A surprised laugh bubbled out from within him, accompanied by a smile. "I don't think I've ever heard that one before." "You do know I'm Eddie, right?" He quirked a playful eyebrow at Georgie, starting to walk him towards a nearby cafe. "... Not Bill, or Stanley, or Mike -- those guys -- those guys knew how to take care of us." "Me -- for the record -- my job was mostly just ... complaining. Freaking everyone out. Worrying. I am plenty good at that. All that taking care of everyone was mostly because I was scared shitless if they died, I'd wind up dead too." "Guess it kinda happened anyways."

#start*#scribedhorror*#scribedhorror 003*#eddie & bill*

Seven hours and forty-seven minutes later -- Eddie had timed it -- he was there. Flying hadn't been as bad as he expected, save for the impatience that left him jittery and unfocused, and for the ache in his chest that had started growing with every sweet thing Bill said to him. He was desperate to be there, to be together, and once that plane finally landed, Eddie didn't waste a second. He packed too much (he always did, but in this case, Eddie packed like he was packing forever), and found himself stalled by the baggage claim, breathing too fast and too shallow to really satiate his lungs. He missed his case the first time around, but the second -- the second time, Eddie was ready to snatch it as soon as it was close enough, lugging his bag through masses of people towards the airport's exit. Eddie went through one set of doors, then another, his heart beating faster and faster until it seemed to give out altogether. Because Bill was there. Eddie spotted him weaving through the crowd and he suddenly felt like he was ten years old again, filled with a newfound sense of energy. Bill was right there, waiting for him.

After all that time -- all those lonely, boring years -- Eddie couldn't wait any longer. He loosened his grip on his suitcase and he bolted, leaving his luggage behind so he could hoist himself over a dividing bar and get to Bill that much faster.

He was grinning like a fool, so big it dug his dimple deep in. Eddie didn't stumble or falter or hesitate, grabbing on to Bill as soon as he saw him. There was so much he wanted to say and do and ask, but in that moment, nothing felt more important than just having Bill tight in his arms, and keeping him there for as long as he possibly could. "Hi," he breathed, so instantly comforted by the other's presence.

@scribedhorror

George wouldn't ever say it out loud, but there had been a moment when he genuinely worried Eddie wasn't real--right up until his hand landed solidly on George's leg. He sighed softly at the confirmation that they were both real and present.

He pushed off the bench and blinked, surprised, when he realized he was a fair amount taller. Logically, George knew he was tall, but he still struggled to wrap his head around being taller than people like Bill and his friends; in his head, he was still little, still looking up at all of them.

George laughed at Eddie's commentary. "He does alright. Managed to keep me alive this long, didn't he?" If Eddie only knew. . . Bill was the only reason Georgie even made it to 18, let alone his 30s. He may have been their parents' favorite child, but they had never taken care of Georgie the way Bill had.

It would always be odd for Eddie, seeing Georgie as a fully grown adult. In his mind, the kid was still a kid, but in reality, he looked more adult than Eddie felt most of the time. Georgie towered over him. Georgie was bigger than him in every possible way. Hell, he was probably even taller than Bill.

Then again, a lot of people were taller than Bill. Eddie eyed him up and down, briefly wondering if was even taller than Richie. That would be an impressive feat.

"Jesus," he said, scoffing. "I really am short, aren't I? Whatever the fuck he's giving you, I'll take some. I'm a forty-year-old man and they still call me pipsqueak."

ozmodai

(2019) it hid behind your teeth and you were too nervous to seek it out. you waited for the perfect moment until you couldn’t.

subduedrefrigerator

feeling: personally attacked

#eddie & richie*#ouch?

George forced himself to breathe slowly, evenly, as he listened to Eddie. "N-No, I. . . I didn't want Billy to come back, but. . .but I couldn't let him come back here alone." IT never wanted me, anyway.

The offer surprised him enough that it got George to look at Eddie. Though he didn't know when the older man had sat down next to him. "I'm on like. . .five different medications?" He wasn't sure, but he knew Billy knew. His brother had always kept track of that. "None of them mix well with alcohol," George finished with a faint smile. "But food. . . I actually don't know when I ate last, so. Food's probably a good idea."

He ran his flesh and blood hand over the robotic one, trying to ground himself. "I don't know if I've been real since I was seven," he sighed. "Not really. I've just been. . . floating." God, he almost gagged at the word.

Eddie knew far too well what Georgie was going through, right down to the stocked medicine cabinet. His prescriptions were far less required, he figured, than Georgie's were -- and he was far less careful about mixing them with alcohol -- but the floating. The floating, Eddie knew.

Truth be told, most of it was his own doing. Eddie found floating easier than living in reality. Floating was easier than remembering. Floating was easier than trying to face his still-in-process divorce, or his trauma, or his past spent fighting a fucking evil clown. Floating got him through the day. But he knew it was different for Georgie. He wanted real. He needed it, after everything.

Eddie patted Georgie on the knee and he stood up, waiting expectantly for the other to follow along. "Food it is, George. C'mon. Get up. You need protein. And carbs -- real ones. Good ones. God only knows what that brother of yours has been feeding you."

@eddiethekaspbrak liked Georgie's starter call

George didn't even realize he had dissociated until he saw one of his brother's friends staring expectantly at him, like he was waiting for something. "Hm? You were. . . You were talking to me, weren't you?" He blinked rapidly for a moment to clear his vision. How long had he just been staring at nothing? ". . . Sorry. I'm kind of. . . I didn't really ever. . .get better, after. . .after." Even now, in his thirties, George couldn't bring himself to talk about it much to anyone other than Billy and his psychiatrist. "I check out sometimes." An understatement. "Being back in Derry's. . . making it worse." George shook his head and tried to smile to put Eddie at ease. "Anyway. Not important. What were you saying?"

Eddie had asked if Georgie was okay because he knew what it was like to not really get better. You could be there, be physically in the present moment, but it was often impossible to pull your mind out of the past, especially when it never really felt finished.

He smiled a crooked smile, going to sit down beside his best friend's younger brother. "Didn't really wanna come back here, either. Definitely didn't fucking think I'd stay. I get it." " .... Look, do you wanna get something to eat, or grab a drink or something? Usually that helps me feel ... Y'know. Real. Real-er."