no_death | (no subject)

I had memories of Valentine’s Day. Of gifts given, gifts rescued by Stan when Eddie couldn’t remember them, gifts that now sat on the dresser in our bedroom. Both the plant and the lion. I still hadn’t been able to find the right words to thank Stan for keeping our things, our important things. I had thanked him, of course, but it never felt enough.

Standing in our shared apartment now, looking at these items, I felt oddly confident in my gift this year. It wasn’t fancy, but it was special. A piece of the lifeboat from the Jolly Roger, a beautiful wooden plank I had commissioned Bill’s ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend to sand down and carve our names into.

There was space below the names for a date. For when we got married.

I had also bought flowers, which were sitting in a vase on the table, waiting for Eddie to get home. I had wrapped the wood, though not very well, still learning how to properly use my new hook. I thought he’d forgive me for that.

“I’m in the bedroom,” I called when I heard the door open. “Just a second, I’ll come out to you.”

I turned, tucked the wrapped plank under my arm, and went out to meet him.

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“It’s wood from the lifeboat on the Jolly Roger,” I explained. “And I left a space for a date. For when we get married.”

Which was something we hadn’t really talked much about. We were engaged again, I knew that, and I knew I wanted to marry him. Before, when we were younger, we had been waiting for something. To be more grown up, maybe, to be more financially secure. I couldn’t remember and I wasn’t sure it mattered.

I felt like maybe Eddie wanted to wait. I could wait if that was what he wanted.

"Right."

His thoughts seemed to have ground to a halt. He stared at the piece of wood, at their names and the space beneath. Sometimes, it felt like they already were married. Most days, he couldn't remember why they weren't.

Myra, maybe. It felt unfair to Myra. He couldn't even talk to her. Seeing her again wouldn't change his mind, but what kind of asshole would he be if he just moved on without explaining to her why.

"We should just do it," he heard himself say, because he was an asshole. Or he just wanted to be happy for once.

I wasn’t sure I had heard him at first, because Eddie liked to plan. But then, Eddie also tended to rush headlong into things without thinking it through. I loved that about him.

“It’s probably too late to get a license today,” I said. “But we can go get one tomorrow.”

I wanted to marry him. I had wanted few things in my life as much as I wanted that.

"Seriously? Just like that?"

As if he hadn't been the one to suggest it.

"I... Yeah. Fuck yeah, let's do it."

Not the most romantic thing ever, but what the hell were they waiting for?

I laughed and said, “It was your idea.”

I took the board from him and set it aside, then took his hand and held it between my palm and my other wrist.

“We can get a license and then we can pick a day,” I said. “I know you’ll want Bill there, I’ll have to tell Elio, of course.”

"Yeah, Stan, too. And, God, Richie..." Eddie winced. Everything had seemed to fraught with Rich, ever since he'd come back, but still, he needed all of the Losers there.

All the ones left, anyway.

“Of course,” I answered, nodding. My own friendship with Richie wasn’t the same as it had once been. That hurt, the same it hurt that Bev was gone, but I knew it all hurt Eddie much more.

“Regan should be there,” I added, though my friend group was small now. Smaller than it had ever been before.

"Yeah. Yeah, obviously," Eddie said, with another faint twinge of guilt. He'd lost touch with so many people. Some of them were gone, yeah, but others, he'd just let slip away. Frankly, it was hard to maintain a friendship with a teenage girl when you were a forty-year-old man.

"I hope City Hall doesn't mind if we bring a crowd."

“That isn’t a very large crowd,” I teased. It was really just a few people. I didn’t mind a quiet life, it felt like a gift after all I had been through, but there were times I missed being constantly surrounded by the people I loved most.

Maybe that was why I had never minded living at the Children’s Home very much.

“But I think they wouldn’t mind,” I continued. “They must be used to it.”