clussy: ɪᴄᴏɴ ʙʏ ɪᴄᴏɴsꜰᴏʀʙɪᴛᴄʜᴇs (ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ) (𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛)
eddie kaspbrak ([personal profile] clussy) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou 2017-11-06 03:14 am (UTC)

Armor? (Eddie has never thought of any part of himself or his medication like armor. Armor was for knights and Spartans and brave people. People who fought. Maybe Sans was meandering but Eddie soaks it in, his whole body rigid.

His friends were like armor, he realized. They all were to each other. Locking into place against horrible, God awful things.)


You have a brother? (And that brother had something like that too- something like armor. Was that why Sans hadn't made fun of him? Eddie's hands were curled up against his chest, an overly delicate pose for a boy his age from his time zone, but he doesn't notice it. He's too busy burning holes into what Sans presents to him.

It isn't so anticlimactic to Eddie. He understands fully when something is precious.

He doesn't quite reach for it yet, something swelling up tight inside of his chest. Not anxiety. Something else, something equally as tight, tight as a balloon near bursting.)


You- but that's your brother's. I can't take something of your brothers...

(If he had anything of his friends, he didn't know if he'd be so happy to let go of them. His eyes are stuck on that red, red scarf though.)

Isn't that your armor? (It would be Eddie's. If he had one of Richie's stupid print shirts or one of Bill's shoelaces or Mike's shirts or Ben's too-big sweaters.)

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