[ stepping away was — difficult. but so was moving in general, and that would serve as a good enough excuse. with the distance back between them, the cold of this place seeped back around him. it felt bone deep and maybe that was actually just him and all the overexertion after a goddamned resurrection (or whatever the hell that was) catching up in a dead sprint and it would be absolutely mortifying to pass out now.
it was frustrating, how stabilizing harrington was. not just in the tactile reassurances that eddie never thought he needed all that much. eddie, who was good at being alone but never wanting to admit that he rather not be; the outsider, the metalhead freak, the fantasy nerd. but here he was, not alone and what a fucking relief. who would have thought the line between fantasy and reality was such a blur?
thoughts hazy, and it takes effort to refocus them now. but they were. so. close.
then steve's hand is back at his elbow. back, like an anchor calling him to something real and the rope falls into eddie's hands, rough against dirt-covered palms. he stares at it, for a moment before harrington's doing that eye thing again and eddie is nodding along before he can reconsider.
but — as they get closer and closer to getting out, he catches steve's wrist, pulling on rope until he's hanging on to the other end. ] Since you're so prepared, Harrington — we're not taking any chances, right? [ if you squint, there's an attempted pinch at a dig, though it is neither particularly biting nor clever.
maybe someone else would have said nothing's going to go wrong, or we got this or whatever other optimistic bullshit that would do wonders in a place like this. but this is eddie munson, self-proclaimed cynic, we're talking about here.
and maybe steve was going to tie them off anyway but eddie is not taking any more chances either. and maybe they're wasting precious time, standing on the very edge of the rolling gate steve just emerged from moments before, but it doesn't take much time at all for eddie to loop the rope around harrington's forearm, tying it off into a slipknot. a glance back up at him from under his curling bangs. ] We should, um — [ taking a moment to slip the other end of the rope around his own arm, loop around twice. he doesn't hide the wince, doesn't think to, as some bite is aggravated by the friction. ] — go through together though. Right? [ please. ]
[ he moves to crouch beside the gate, inadvertently tugging steve down after him. a hand lifts, hovers at the edge. there's a second of consideration, taking this place in. the horizon, the rolling thunder in the distance and the strikes of scarlet lighting. for a second, he squints, thinks he catches the silhouettes of things that makes his heart jump in his throat, and it seems to dredge up enough adrenaline to break the weird reverie of this moment. shock his system into action one last time and — ] Okay, yeah nope, let's go. Let's go, [ who cares if it was his imagination. who cares if they were so far away they probably wouldn't have even noticed. who cares whether or not those things were even there. it's enough to give him the short burst, to slide his hand up to steve's back and push him forward, into the portal —
— and when he emerges on the other side, it's with a gasp. hands grasp at pavement, scrape painfully on dull rocks and only now does he actually believe this worked. ] Holy fucking shit!
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it was frustrating, how stabilizing harrington was. not just in the tactile reassurances that eddie never thought he needed all that much. eddie, who was good at being alone but never wanting to admit that he rather not be; the outsider, the metalhead freak, the fantasy nerd. but here he was, not alone and what a fucking relief. who would have thought the line between fantasy and reality was such a blur?
thoughts hazy, and it takes effort to refocus them now. but they were. so. close.
then steve's hand is back at his elbow. back, like an anchor calling him to something real and the rope falls into eddie's hands, rough against dirt-covered palms. he stares at it, for a moment before harrington's doing that eye thing again and eddie is nodding along before he can reconsider.
but — as they get closer and closer to getting out, he catches steve's wrist, pulling on rope until he's hanging on to the other end. ] Since you're so prepared, Harrington — we're not taking any chances, right? [ if you squint, there's an attempted pinch at a dig, though it is neither particularly biting nor clever.
maybe someone else would have said nothing's going to go wrong, or we got this or whatever other optimistic bullshit that would do wonders in a place like this. but this is eddie munson, self-proclaimed cynic, we're talking about here.
and maybe steve was going to tie them off anyway but eddie is not taking any more chances either. and maybe they're wasting precious time, standing on the very edge of the rolling gate steve just emerged from moments before, but it doesn't take much time at all for eddie to loop the rope around harrington's forearm, tying it off into a slipknot. a glance back up at him from under his curling bangs. ] We should, um — [ taking a moment to slip the other end of the rope around his own arm, loop around twice. he doesn't hide the wince, doesn't think to, as some bite is aggravated by the friction. ] — go through together though. Right? [ please. ]
[ he moves to crouch beside the gate, inadvertently tugging steve down after him. a hand lifts, hovers at the edge. there's a second of consideration, taking this place in. the horizon, the rolling thunder in the distance and the strikes of scarlet lighting. for a second, he squints, thinks he catches the silhouettes of things that makes his heart jump in his throat, and it seems to dredge up enough adrenaline to break the weird reverie of this moment. shock his system into action one last time and — ] Okay, yeah nope, let's go. Let's go, [ who cares if it was his imagination. who cares if they were so far away they probably wouldn't have even noticed. who cares whether or not those things were even there. it's enough to give him the short burst, to slide his hand up to steve's back and push him forward, into the portal —
— and when he emerges on the other side, it's with a gasp. hands grasp at pavement, scrape painfully on dull rocks and only now does he actually believe this worked. ] Holy fucking shit!