[ eddie rarely feels good about his anger. most of the time after the fire’s gone, he’s left with a guilt that still smokes for a long time after, that permeates everything else. he does, however, feel righteous. but even when it’s this, when eddie’s doing the best he can, when he stands up for what he feels, there’s that lingering doubt: was he in the right? is he ever? was he too harsh? does richie deserve what he’s said?
those are questions eddie can’t and won’t answer, not tonight. when he summons his composure again, he’s almost grateful he has this shitty job to distract him, at least long enough that thoughts of longing and regret can stay buried in that shallow grave until the clock lets all the lemmings know they're free to go.
at home, eddie contemplates letting out the basest part of his nature that needs comfort, relenting finally when myra, highly attuned to reading eddie’s emotional state, instinctively knows to cook one of his favorite meals for dinner. for a blissful half hour, eddie lives in a state of deep gratitude that there's still one person who knows him, but once myra serves him dinner with two fingers of scotch like a dutiful 50s housewife, eddie feels something cold and horrible drip into his stomach. he is a horrible husband.
that night, eddie barely rests, relegating himself to the couch with his tossing and turning. at 3am, when a fitful sleep finally takes him, it’s with thoughts of young richie tozier in his mind, pressing eddie’s inhaler into his hand with wide, terrified eyes. ]
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those are questions eddie can’t and won’t answer, not tonight. when he summons his composure again, he’s almost grateful he has this shitty job to distract him, at least long enough that thoughts of longing and regret can stay buried in that shallow grave until the clock lets all the lemmings know they're free to go.
at home, eddie contemplates letting out the basest part of his nature that needs comfort, relenting finally when myra, highly attuned to reading eddie’s emotional state, instinctively knows to cook one of his favorite meals for dinner. for a blissful half hour, eddie lives in a state of deep gratitude that there's still one person who knows him, but once myra serves him dinner with two fingers of scotch like a dutiful 50s housewife, eddie feels something cold and horrible drip into his stomach. he is a horrible husband.
that night, eddie barely rests, relegating himself to the couch with his tossing and turning. at 3am, when a fitful sleep finally takes him, it’s with thoughts of young richie tozier in his mind, pressing eddie’s inhaler into his hand with wide, terrified eyes. ]