video 01 | Aortic Aneurysm

[clussy]

(You know who is not going to react to this situation decently no matter how many times it's explained to him? Eddie. You know who doesn't have a good game face against fear? Also Eddie. He's alone, he needs an adult, and he's pretty sure they don't restock on inhalers here. He knew he didn't need it, not technically, but he also knew that his lungs were contracting at a rate that lead to hyperventilating and as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what an asthma attack was all about. He was having an asthma attack. Maybe. His body was thinking about it.

By the way, he's definitely just been staring at the video for a couple of silent seconds, his jaw working back and forth as he just tried to remind himself that he was actually capable of breathing. This kid......)

My mom's going to fucking kill me.

(The words are whispered under his breath and he would think twice about swearing if he realized how many adults might be watching this video. He was enough of a loser that he could get the whole communication device thing, really, that was fine. But he wasn't quite able to wrap his mind around the full extent of it all.

After a second, he decides fuck it. He needs his inhaler. It goes up, he gives it a few shakes, and takes a deep, deep breath in with it. Holds. Holds.

Then his whole body deflates, his eyes rolling up. He closes his eyes and thinks about how he would talk to the police in Derry. Ha. If that wasn't the biggest fucking joke ever. When he speaks next, his voice is pitched higher than before, that typical 'I'm trying super hard to be polite and endearing' voice that he uses to call his mom 'mommy' when he's real apologetic. He's not even trying to be a suck up. The kid's just scared.)

Um. My name's Eddie Kaspbrak. I'm Sonia Kaspbrak's son and I definitely need to be home for dinner which is like, in an hour. So if anyone can help...I would really appreciate it.

.....God, I really hope this isn't that creep who was taking all those kids.

Comments

[skelepun]

[When Eddie grins on the tail end of losers, it might as well be accompanied by a burst of sunlight. Not a comparison made lightly (ha) by a man who spent the majority of his life underground, only hearing about the sun in books and stories told by those old enough to have seen it with their own eyes.

It was a special thing. This kid had spark in him. Weighed down, maybe, but too bright to miss its shine.

... This place was gonna tear him to pieces.]

Skeletons? Oh, sure. I'm a pretty popular guy back where I'm from. [In so far as popularity could be measured by how many people who knew his name and his drink order, but nothing else.] Here? Eh... I'm eating french fries with a new pal now, aren't I?

[He winks, and steals another fry. They were down to the dregs now; only bits left. Those were Eddie's spoils of victory, and Sans avoids them in favor of a shriveled up frankenfry.]

S'alright if I ask you something a little more serious, kid?

[clussy]

(The sad thing is that even if he had stayed at home, Derry would have done its damage on Eddie just as bad. Just in a completely different way. This kid is predetermined to suffer.

The only difference is that unlike at Derry, this place seemed to have no shortage of actual quality adults. Adults who maybe wanted to help. Like, actually to help.)

Yeah? What are some of your friends like? Are they monsters like you? (Eddie uses the word 'monster' like a physical object. He holds it in his mouth curiously, realizing maybe for the first time that words did not have to have concrete meaning. That a monster could be simultaneously good and bad.

That was information he wasn't sure what to do with. For now, it's tucked away.)

We're friends?

(There's a small hopefulness that melts its way into Eddie's voice. He does not make friends often. He stares at the bottom of the fries and tips the box back to eat them.

Half of them.

The other half he holds out to Sans and grins a bit sheepishly.)

I'm stuffed from the others. (A lie, sure, but Eddie wanted to give his new friend (a new friend, mom) the rest of the good pieces.

But the serious question thing? That has Eddie lowering the box a little and he feels a prickle of discomfort under his skin.)

Um. Yes. (His gut instinct is to ask if he's in trouble but he doesn't. He waits for Sans to ask him instead.)

[skelepun]

Yeah, some of 'em are. Skeletons and ghosts and bunnies and dogs. [Two are perhaps not like the other, but Snowdin was a pretty cool place that way. Literally.] And lemme tell you, nobody cheats at poker like a dog.

But I've got some human friends, too.

[It's impressive, honestly, how quick Eddie is on the uptake. For all his initial surprise, the mundanity of Sans' appearance and species settled in quickly over their interactions. There was no laundry list of questions about the hows and whys of his existence, no suspicion, no prolonged horror.

Just a kid, eating fries, asking about his monster friends.

... A kid, eating fries, making sure someone like him got enough to eat even in a strange place where he knew nothing and no one.

Sans takes a crispy fry end. He doesn't buy that this kid was stuffed off a few stale french fries, but far be it from him to turn the kid down.]

Like you. [He nudges Eddie's shoulder, hand hovering over it with a quick, steadying squeeze.] Of course we're friends.

So that's why I'm gonna ask... how much did everybody tell you so far, about this place?

[clussy]

Bunnies and dogs? (The two that Eddie picks up on, of course. He perks up with that innate child curiosity. He's never been allowed to pet animals before because of his "allergies". He's smiling all over again and hell, he even giggles a little bit.) Dogs can't play poker.

(Can they? That's incredible if they can. He gives that some thought before nodding rather slowly.)

Actually, they probably have a good poker face. Because they're a dog.

(Maybe they can play poker after all.

It was all simple to Eddie. It had been pretty startling at first but with how casual Sans was, how easy it was to relax around him, and frankly, the fact that Sans made Eddie feel even remotely good about himself? Eddie was quick to accept Sans as a basic fact of nature. Eddie didn't go around asking birds how they ate so why would he ask Sans? Besides, he hated when people asked him what all of his medication was for. That kind of stuff seemed personal.

Eddie's smiling again because wow, boy, it does feel good to have more friends. He wonders if the guys would like Sans and shit, of course they would. Richie might make some god awful jokes though but Eddie thinks maybe they'd be the sort of jokes Sans would appreciate.

Some of them anyway.)

Oh. (That wasn't the question he had been anticipating. He relaxes and looks up, thinking.)

I know there's inhuman things here. Both because of you and someone else told me. People have told me it's safe but someone else told me it could be dangerous too- but like, that's how everywhere is. Um....People have to trade things to get things or find them. We can't go home and apparently our home is stuck in time so no one knows we're gone either.

(He's pretty sure that covered most of it.)

[skelepun]

Hah, no kidding! They're terrible at it. It's not the faces you gotta watch, though. [He leans down, as if passing on a secret.] It's the tails.

[Not that Sans complained when he was taking all their money. Maybe now Eddie could take some people's money, too.

Well, dog money, anyway.]

But it sounds like you got the lowdown. That's good. [It was.] How's it all... y'know, sinking in? You feeling alright?

[clussy]

Of course it's their tails. (That makes plenty of sense to Eddie. Not that he knew much about dogs but he knew enough.

Sans was quickly becoming the guy Who Knew Things.

Eddie would probably be too nice to take money from dogs. Dogs had it bad enough didn't they?

You know what most little boys aren't used to? Being asked about how they felt. Eddie stares at Sans for a solid minute before he's looking down at his lap, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt.)

I'm okay. (He's supposed to feel okay and he knows that. Crying is for babies, sissies, and otherwise, and Eddie is doing his best to keep a brave face on.

But...Sans has done a decent job at implementing himself as relatively trust worthy to Eddie. So even after he exclaims his okayness, Eddie clears his throat.)

It's just. (He looks at Sans out of the corner of his eye before giving a small shrug.)

I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. Overall, I mean. My mom did mostly everything for me. I know how to do some food stuff but for like snacks. I can handle a drug store but there's not a drug store. I'm not old enough to work, but apparently there's not even currency. I don't really-.

(His voice catches because these fears? These are the kind of fears a lot of people have in the real world let alone a weird situation like this.)

Can I tell you a secret?

[skelepun]

[Eddie would have no cognizance of his past, of the things he'd done and said and not said. He couldn't have known, and yet Sans couldn't help feeling a twinge of something at the back of his skull at the surprise in Eddie's body language. All over being asked something so simple.

It wasn't righting any past wrongs -- nothing could do that, Sans had seen that with his own eye sockets -- but there was a strange sort of mercy in those three little words.

Are you okay?

If only he'd learned that a long time ago. Maybe things would've been different.]

Yeah, of course.

[The rambling list of fears, the worries, the talk of his mother (maybe not high-five worthy, after all...), all of it could wait for the moment.

Whatever it was this kid had to get off his chest, that was where Sans' eyelights focused now. He scoots a bit closer in the grass, skull ducked lower. Conspiratory. Safe.]

What's up?

[clussy]

(No one in the fifties asked boys about their feelings. It's just how things were. There were a lot of reasons Eddie didn't have a fighting chance of making it out of the Derry mentality. Shit, mental health in general back then was a well-kept family secret for the most part.

But Sans had been enlisted as a friend for Eddie, someone he could maybe express his concerns to at the very least. He bends himself towards Sans, tucking himself into that private bubble between the two of them.

He looks nervous and yeah, Sans was about to figure that no, his mother wasn't so high-five-worthy at all.)

I'm-.

(He looks over his shoulder as if expecting Sonia Kaspbrak to be standing right there, staring him down, Eddie-bear? I've been looking all over for you, Eddie. Are you trying to run away from your mother? Do you not love me anymore? Eddie!

But there is no such thing there and he slowly turns his head back around. Guilt rubs him raw but he has to admit it- even if it's only to one person.)

I love my mommy. I really do. (That's the first thing he says- because it's true. Eddie doesn't know how to not love her. His relationship with his mother was so ingrained into him that it fucked with every piece of hard wiring he had and it didn't matter how deep the resentment went for her lying to him.)

But I-...I'm kind of...happy she isn't here. I don't know how to be on my own and I'm a little scared about that, but I think if she were here, it'd be a lot worse. She would be scared and I don't think I would ever leave the medical place here. And I'm not exaggerating. I really think she'd lock me down there because she wouldn't be able to believe that I could be safe out here- in the open air.

(There isn't that childlike fear of a parent grounding their kid. There's something extremely real on Eddie's face, a waver in his voice.

Granted, he was pretty anxious about space illnesses himself. How could he not be? But even as much of a hypochondriac as Eddie was, it would never be as bad as his mother was.)

[skelepun]

[It's not a happy secret.]

[From their small bubble -- private only by the grace of some unspoken, tenuous promise with the rest of the world -- Sans' eye sockets soften slightly. From this close vantage, Eddie's body language was easy to see and even easier to read.

The fears of children were sometimes just that -- childish. Fear of punishment, fear of reprisal, fear of the unknown. But sometimes, there was something deeper about those anxieties. Something that settled past the what ifs into concrete certainty.

When Eddie says she'd lock me away, it wasn't a trembling kid anxious over missing dinner. It was the assertion of a child who knew his mother, and knew how she might react.

She wasn't the first mother Sans had ever heard of, who wished desperately for her children to be protected even at the limits of their freedoms. He could remember as clear as day, one such mother reaching out to him through a locked door, imploring him to protect any children who walked through it.

But unlike Eddie's mother, children did walk through that door.

She did let them go.

Whoever this woman was, things were different. Wrong, somehow.]

Hey. [Sans begins, choosing his words carefully.] That's... you don't have to be ashamed of that, kid. Sometimes... sometimes, it's easier, not having to worry about yourself and someone else.

[His perpetual grin tightens a little.]

Your mom sounds like she gives you kinda a lot to worry about, huh?

[clussy]

(Honestly? Eddie doesn't have a single happy secret in him.

Eddie couldn't argue to anyone that he was particularly good at reading people. But he wasn't bad at it either. He had enough sensitivity that he could read pain on someone else or pain's many variations. The funny thing was, he had never thought a skeleton could be expressive. But Eddie notices that softening in Sans. Another look he's not too used to. He holds it in his minds eye, like smoke, not quite sure if he could do anything with it, but aware of it all the same.

It's not something he understands or realizes at the surface of his mind, but somewhere buried inside of Eddie he understands that Sans is an empathetic person. He is not listening to Eddie with the pity of an adult, but with the compassion of a friend.

That's a pretty substantial difference.)

Yeah? (He asks with sheer hope because God, he doesn't think the guilt from it would ever go away.)

...You're right. (Though Eddie would prefer his friends there at least. That wasn't what Sans meant though and he knew it.

He picks at the grass absently, twisting it between his fingers.)

I'm...not really sick. (He mumbles.) I mean, I'm sick in the head I guess, but like, my lungs are fine. My mom...she's always telling me what I can or can't do and sometimes I know what I can do but then I wonder if she's right and. I don't know.

(His eyes dart up to Sans and he looks fidgety.)

I know my inhaler doesn't actually do anything but like. It's. Sometimes I just need it still.

(It sounds stupid when he puts it like that but alas.)

So yeah, I guess she does give me a lot to worry about. I try to remember it's bullshit but then I get scared about something and I can't remember. And then I start thinking that she's not totally wrong. Like, there's so much bacteria that can make you sick and kill you it's disgusting.

[skelepun]

[It was a lot of information. That the inhaler wasn't necessary, that the inhaler was fake, the extent of his mother's domineering rules. A relationship now ticked far past overprotective and into a network of constraints. Rules with no purposes, limits without reason.

That Eddie seemed aware of that only made it worse, somehow. Buying into the lies people tell at least provided a sense of comfort and consistency to backwards logic. Poor kid didn't even have that.

Sick in the head.

He starts to speak several times, only to stop before any words could escape. Finally,
he straightens up, looking back over the greenery's expanse. Wilted, sure, but still beautiful.

How many things would Eddie's mother be terrified of here, he wondered. The pollen? The alien plants?

... The monster talking to her son?

There as a lot to unpack. Too much for him to fix with mere words of encouragement or sympathy. And for a moment, Sans is at a loss of how to help.

(you're not good at this, call Shepard, call someone who has the barest idea of how to not screw this up)

And then, it comes to him.]

Hey, kid. [He finally speaks, almost suddenly, turning back to Eddie.] You wanna know something cool?

[clussy]

(Thankfully for Sans, this wasn't really Eddie telling him all this to be fixed or to be provided with help. Eddie doesn't think there's much about him that can be fixed. Mostly, he's confiding in Sans because Sans is now a friend and Eddie felt like lying to your friends was a horrible thing to do.

And every time he used that inhaler, no matter how real the asthma attack looked, that was a lie too. A lie that Eddie convinced himself of needing even.

He didn't want to lie to Sans. His fingers twist and rip out more grass, maybe a little harder than before. There isn't really anything anyone can say to twelve years worth of invasive manipulation.

That kind of thing didn't change magically because of one perfect sentence.

Eddie looks up, his dark eyes curious.)

What?

[skelepun]

I'll show you.

[He gets up, brushing some grass off his shorts before offering a hand down to Eddie.]

We're going on a field trip, kiddo.

[There's a beat of pause as Sans remembers their conversation from before. Strangers versus friends.]

Y'know, if that's cool with you.

[clussy]

(Eddie stares for a fraction of a second at that offered hand. How sanitary exactly were skeletons anyway? It's a thought he pushes out of his head. If he can grab at Richie's anything anytime when that kid was a walking, talking enigma of germs then he could handle this.

He grabs the hand (it's weird touching a skeleton, admittedly) and gets to his feet. He brushes his own shorts off.)

A field trip?

(What a use of a word. Field trips were virtually the funnest part about school and there's no denying the little light that comes into Eddie's eyes.)

Yeah it is. (He grabs a hold of his bike and then looks back at Sans before his bike.)

Hey. Want me to bike us there? Promise no coordination. You just stand on these- (He kicks the pegs with the tip of his shoe-) And then hold on my shoulders and tell me where to go. It's fun.

[skelepun]

[As sanitary as most things on a dirty abandoned space station. Possibly less, if only because the crew was making a conscious effort to tidy the Avagi, whereas Sans hadn't seen the inside of a shower for a couple weeks now.

It hadn't been his best month. But as the kid's hand tightens around his, Sans can't help the distant sense that things were looking up just a little.]

Huh? [The offer is a surprise, but one Sans responds to with a broadening of his usual grin. This kid was something else, and whatever that something was had already started to grow on him.] Hell yeah, kiddo. You're never gonna see me turn down a free ride.

[He puts one slippered foot on the pegs, nodding for Eddie to hop on.]

Head back down the greenery path, out into the main hall, and turn left. I'll tell you the rest once we get rolling.

[clussy]

(Okay see if Eddie knew Sans hadn't showered in a while he might have been a little more repulsed. It's a good thing bones don't really get as dirty as human skin (maybe?).

Eddie grins broadly then and yeah, things are just fine. The blessing of kids was that they had pretty sharp reflexes on emotional stuff.) Awesome.

(He climbs up onto his bike and waits until he feels Sans secure himself before pushing off. Eddie rides smooth and rides at a good speed. Not too fast for two people, but fast enough to be a little fun.

He follows directions well, not bothering to ask where they were going because hey, that was part of the surprise, right?)

[skelepun]

[It had been a while since Sans last bothered taking in a scenic route somewhere. If his initial tour of the station wasn't still relatively recent, they might've never found their way at all.

Of course, that didn't stop Sans from pointing out a few wrong turns. Chalk it up to him enjoying the ride. And the laugh he'd occasionally laugh he'd squeeze out of the kid playing dumb. It's the little things.

Two right turns, three left turns, and four wrong turns later the pair found themselves stopped in front of a large, decorative set of double doors. Observation Deck was written above it, designating the location's name and purpose all together.]

Alright, this is it.

[Hopping off, Sans reaches into his pocket. Whatever it is his hand winds around, he doesn't pull it out just yet.]

There's just one thing we gotta take care of first.

[clussy]

(At first Eddie just figures Sans made a mistake or two. But then he quickly caught onto the fact that Sans was messing with him. People who were willing to mess with him in a way that didn't involve snapping his arm or making him eat gravel were a heaven sent and Eddie snorted the moment he realized.

Which of course lead to him retaliating by taking them a few wrong turns as well.

Eddie wheels to a stop once they're outside of the double doors. He can read just fine, but in the 1950s space exploration is barely touched and he doesn't even think about what could be an 'Observation Deck'.

He is curious though, he'll say. What could they be observing? He slips off of his own bike and kicks up the stand, resting it against the wall.

He looks away from the sign to Sans, eyes still big with that kid-wonder.)

What's that?

[skelepun]

You talked about your inhaler, right?

[Be it hesitation or striving for a sense of fostered anticipation, Sans takes his time pulling out whatever is now wrapped firmly around his hand.]

How you don't really need it, but sometimes it kinda makes you feel better?

[clussy]

...Yeah.

(He hesitantly touches the pocket where he kept said inhaler. That good ole mix of hydrogen and oxygen with a dash of Camphor.

His eyes are distracted by whatever Sans is grabbing onto though, curiosity twisting up his face even further.)

Yeah. Why?

[skelepun]

S'kinda like armor, right? Something that makes you feel stronger when you're not feeling so hot. [He's meandering to a point but, much like their path here, he was taking the most winding path possible. As to why, well...] My brother had something like that, too. He used to wear it around all the time.

[And, the reveal... well, it's a little anti-climactic. The red piece of fabric pulled from his jacket pocket unfurls from a messy folded square to something long and tattered.]

I've kinda been holding onto it for a while.

[There's a beat of pause, staring down at the scarf with a strange smile on his face, before holding it out to Eddie.]

Things are gonna be kinda crazy for a while. And like you said, you're gonna be on your own, and there's gonna be a lot you have to learn on the fly. N' I think you can handle it, kid, but hey.

We could all use a little more armor.

[clussy]

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.)

[skelepun]

[It shouldn't surprise him at this point, the depth of this kid's capacity for compassion. From making sure he followed his mother's draconian instructions, to treating a skeleton with some dignity, to worrying about the safety and security of that same stranger over himself.

It really shouldn't surprise him.

They were friends now, right?]

Hey, I didn't say I was giving it to you, did I? [He winks, voice equal parts teasing and warm.] You're borrowing it. I totally expect it back eventually. Just, y'know...

[He waves it slightly, skull canted just slightly to the side. It was strange to see it unfurled like this, carrying with it a thousand memories -- good and bad.]

I think my brother'd really want you to have it. He was really cool that way.

[It certainly wasn't doing anyone any good tucked away in his pocket, hidden like a fresh wound.]

C'mon. [He urges again, smiling a little broader.] Just for a little while.

[clussy]

No, you didn't.

(Sans has a point there. He doesn't need to be told how important this was. If Sans was carrying it around with him, that said enough about its value. Eddie looks up at him.)

What if I fuck up and lose it?

(His eyes drop back down to the scarf.)

I get into trouble a lot. (What if he was wearing it and he met some new and improved Henry Bowers who decided he wanted to make Eddie eat shit? Eddie would never forgive himself.

But Eddie reaches a hand out to take the scarf from Sans. He holds it gingerly in his hands like it's more of a fragile piece of glass than a worn piece of cloth. He winds it between his palms, squeezing the fabric tightly.

There was a certain kind of magic that came with this sort of thing, a subtle magic stitched into the very fibers.)

I'm sure your brother's the coolest. (He doesn't put the scarf around his neck but instead he winds it around his arm, the one he had broken, and knots it off at the elbow. It actually looks kind of cool, fitted around his hand like some sort of improv cast. He clenches his hand into a fist and smiles. He wouldn't always wear it like that but for now it would do.)

Like armor, right?

[skelepun]

[There's a moment as the scarf leaves his hand that Sans feels something catch at the back of his jaw. A strange feeling of letting go of something, even just for a little while.

And yet he couldn't help feeling as if where ever Papyrus was, whatever was left of him in that old tattered red scarf, he would be pretty pleased with sharing something cool with someone who really appreciated it.]

That's the thing about armor. [He points out a few of the tears and rips scattered across its hem.] You can bang it up and it still works. No matter how much trouble you get into.

[I'm sure your brother's the coolest.

If Sans' expression was anything to go by, that was putting it mildly. Caught between amused, impressed, and distantly happy in a way he hadn't felt in some time.]

You look rad as heck, kiddo. [He juts a hand over his shoulder, back towards the Observation Deck doors.] Ready?