Title: Missing Things
Author: Ponderosa
Pairings: Richie Tenenbaum/Eli Cash
Archive: Anyone with prior permission, others please ask.
Warnings: [PG-13]
Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective copyright holders, like Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson. Plot, if you can call it that, belongs to me.
Notes: Thank you goes to Sethra for beta help. While Luke and Owen Wilson are brothers in real life, the characters that they play are not.
Missing Things
Before the first snowflake touched down on the house at Archer Avenue, Margot Tenenbaum packed her bags and left.
Like so many times before, no one knew precisely where she went. Or when - or if - she would be coming back.
On her way out of town, she left a note with Eli Cash along with the instruction to give it to her brother. The note was typed neatly on a square of stiff paper and tucked into a tiny, hand-made envelope.
The note was only three words long.
It read: I'm sorry. -Margot
"Did you read it?" Richie asked. He tucked the square of paper back into its envelope and put it in his coat pocket.
Eli's arms were crossed, his fingers hidden deep beneath his elbows. "There wasn't much to read," he replied. Shortly after, he added, "She didn't say not to."
"I'm still in love with her, you know..." Richie said. His gauntleted fingers curled as Mordecai shifted on his arm. He stroked the falcon's breast and fed him another sardine. The bird's white feathers ruffled in the breeze.
"Yeah, I know. Do you think you should be?" Eli spoke carefully and slowly around the clove cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. "I mean, she left you."
"I don't think I really have a choice," Richie said. His hair was loose, and the strands whipped dark across his face, fluttering at the mercy of the wind in tandem with the tether dangling from Mordecai's leg.
"If I had to choose between forbidden love and unrequited love, I'd choose forbidden," Eli mused. He took a sardine from the can resting on the brick. "It's far more dramatic," he explained, and held the sardine out for Mordecai to snap up.
Richie sighed and squinted in the brightness of the December sun. He looked past Eli and out over the rooftops. They were lightly dusted with white, sparkling in the distance. "How's the book coming?" he asked.
"I miss the drugs."
The scars that puckered the insides of Richie Tenenbaum's arms were deep and fishbelly white. Although the marks were a part of him, a visual reminder of regret not unlike the BB in Chas' hand, Richie hardly thought of them anymore.
Eli, however, thought of Richie's scars frequently. Until now, he had never really seen them close up. He stared intently, running the pads of his fingers along the crooked lines as if he were reading Braille. His fingers came to rest lightly in the center of Richie's palm. "I never asked if it hurt," Eli said.
"No, not really," Richie replied. He brushed Eli's fingers away and scratched at the goosebumps that tightened his flesh.
"They look gross," Eli declared. He sat back in his chair and picked up his fork.
Richie shook his head and smiled faintly. "What did you expect?" he asked, tugging his wristbands back into their familiar places.
Eli's thin shoulders drew upwards in a shrug. He stared at his half-eaten breakfast, and poked at a sausage with the battered silver tines of a piece of Tenenbaum cutlery he had stolen when he was fourteen. "Scars are supposed to be cool."
Richie stood up and took his sunglasses out of his pocket. "Mom says you sold this place," he said, unfolding the glasses and sliding them on.
Eli nodded. "I did," he said, "I'm moving next week."
"Where are you moving to?" Richie asked.
"I don't know," Eli said. He shoved his chair away from the table and rose to his feet. He peered out the window over the sink. "I was thinking about going out west and finding a place to stay in the California desert. Take a room somewhere."
Eli turned and tucked a lock of pale blonde hair behind his ear. "An Indian Casino, maybe."
"If you need a place to stay in the meantime," Richie offered.
Eli pursed his lips and studied Richie for a long moment. He took two steps and pulled his friend into a hug. "I thought you'd never ask," he said in a whisper.
"All my life I wanted to live here," Eli said.
"You practically did," Richie pointed out. He hovered at the doorway of what had been the third floor library. Most of the books that had graced the shelves had belonged officially to Royal and had been left to Richie as part of his inheritance, but Richie hadn't argued when Chas claimed them and took them back home with him and the boys.
"But now it's official," Eli replied. He removed his hat and set it down on the top of a box. He propped his hands on his hips and surveyed his new bedroom. "And, just for the record, that time in the falcon coop doesn't count."
"Why did you bring that with you?" Richie asked, pointing to the corner of the painting that used to hang in Eli's living room.
"I don't know, I like it," Eli said, sliding it out to look at it.
"It's a little disturbing," Richie said.
"You think so?" Eli tilted his head as if doing so would give him new insight into the painting.
Richie set aside his Bloody Mary and picked up Eli's hat. He turned it around in his hands a few times before trying it on. It rested oddly over his headband. "You want to camp out on the landing together until we get a bed moved in?" he asked, his pinched fingers sliding along the brim.
The inside of the pup tent was cramped, but there was room enough in it for both men. Richie lay on the cot, his arms folded across his chest. Eli said it made him look like he was resting in a coffin. Richie had no response.
"What did you guys do at the museum?" Eli asked. He had his arms folded behind his head.
"The museum?"
"Yeah," Eli said. He shifted onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He cracked a smile, almost apologetic, but not sad along the edges as it might once have been. "Margot wouldn't let me come with you guys."
Richie turned his head to look over at Eli. "Well," he said, "we read a lot of books while we were there."
"What kind of books?" Eli prompted.
Richie thought about it for a while. "You know, I can't really remember."
"That's okay," Eli replied. "It doesn't matter." He lay back down on his sleeping bag and said, "This isn't as fun as it used to be when we were kids."
"Hey, Eli?"
"Yeah?"
Richie shifted and looked down at him. "I was sorry you couldn't come with us," he said.
"Me too," Eli said.
Eli's new room was furnished two days later, but when night came, the tent was still standing. He and Richie stood next to one another, looking at it from the outside.
Eli slung his weight on one hip. He hooked a thumb into the pocket of his pajama bottoms. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he looked sideways at Richie. "Wanna leave it up until tomorrow?" he asked.
Richie nodded.
Eli crawled in first. He seated himself in the center of his sleeping bag and drew his legs up, looping his thin arms loosely around his knees. He looked up to see Richie crouched at the entrance of the tent.
Eli slanted a grin, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Did you change your mind?"
Richie ignored the question. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his eyes shadowed and serious.
Eli shifted, stretching his legs out and propping his arms behind him. "Of course," he replied.
"Why Margot?"
Eli sucked air in between his teeth and looked away. "You really want me to answer that?" he asked.
"Yes, I do."
Eli's answer was only three words long.
He said: "I don't know."
Light filtered through the tent, golden and warm.
"That's not much of an answer," Richie said.
"It's all I've got," Eli replied.
Richie crept inside and touched his forehead to Eli's. Their breath mingled in warm, toothpaste-scented gusts.
Eli squeezed his eyes tight. He felt all of thirteen again: awkward, and foolish, and lonely despite everything. He tilted his head and his lips brushed briefly against Richie's as he said, "I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I probably should have said I loved you," Eli murmured.
"It would have been more dramatic," Richie said. He felt a smile ghost briefly across Eli's lips.
"I do, you know," Eli admitted quietly.
"I know," Richie said, and fell into kissing him.