satanicpanics: (pic#17582105)
š”ˆš””š””š”¦š”¢ š”š”²š”«š”°š”¬š”« ([personal profile] satanicpanics) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2025-05-07 02:56 am (UTC)

[ It’s funny. Mere hours ago, Eddie’s head was filled with worries of home—what would happen when he got there, if he’d even get there at all. But home is the furthest thought from his head right now. He no longer has to worry if he’ll crumble to dust or if the world will still view him as a guilty man.

But now—the portal is closed. Robin isn’t coming back. Dustin isn’t coming back. He isn’t going home and no one is coming back for him, and he doesn’t know what steps he’s meant to take to continue his life here. It's strange (and probably unhealthy) to hang so much of his life on another person, but he and Steve had truly been together every step of the way. They arrived together, roomed together from the start without even questioning it, and stayed that way for three years—plus centuries. The only way this story should have ended is that they’d go home together, whatever that may have meant in the end—but that didn’t happen, and Eddie feels as though he’s lost a significant part of himself.

His shoulders shake as that broken laughter ebbs into silent sobs, and he’s only dimly aware of Teddy’s voice through the static—apologizing, as if they had anything to do with it. Apologizing, as though that will bring him back. Apologizing. Apologizing. It feels…pointless. And even in his half-stupor, he knows Teddy means nothing poorly by it, and there are only so many words to be said. He still recalls hearing ā€œI’m sorryā€ and ā€œmy condolencesā€ countless times when his mother passed away, but it’s just—noise.

He’s cold to the bone and beginning to grow painfully aware of his discomfort. The chattering of his teeth, the stiffness in his legs from hours without movement, the aching in his chest when he tries to breathe but just can’t. He isn’t terribly reciprocative to Teddy’s embrace, but he doesn’t push them away and slowly, he does lean in closer. Nothing can really help right now, but knowing that someone is still here softens the pain a little bit.

You’re gonna freeze, he hears eventually.
]

Okay.

[ His response is a mere acknowledgment in a soft, strained voice. He doesn’t fight or argue, but it’s clear that he would just be content to sit here and freeze if that’s the hand fate should choose to deal. His tongue fairly is useless beyond that, and all he can do is repeat: ]

Okay.

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