I'm having a lot of thoughts and feelings about Eddie and clothing and being in the closet.
Because Eddie being shirtless is a thing - a thing that happens when he's in a spiral - and its always been a thing - right from his introduction. (and it kind of ties in with the black singlet - emotional vulnerability thing he has going on too)
Eddies introduction - him putting on a shirt - going from shirtless - to clothed - Eddie has upped his and CHristophers whole life an dmoved them to LA - he's been questioning if hes done the right thing - the shirt being put on - covering him up - is showing that it is the right thing - that the uniform is a safe space for him.
Then we have the Shannon of it all - they fall back into bed - and shirtless Eddie is spiralling out - not wanting to actually have the conversation about what they are doing (Shannon has to come to the firehouse to get that conversation to happen) he puts a tee back on so he can step back into dad mode.
Eddies fight club era - is a massive and obvious spiral that he is in - dealing with the death of Shannon and all his feelings around the fact she'd asked for a divorce, plus the fact that he could've lost his son in the tsunami, but Buck saved him and Eddie has complicated feelings developing there that he's not in a position to either recognise or deal with. We never see him put a shirt on here - just a zip front hoodie - that he doesn't zip up - symbolic of not actually dealing with anything - just sort of hiding it.
We also have a flashback scene in Eddie begins where he is shirtless in the militrary hospital - once more it is Eddie vulnerable and exposed and dealing with a traumatic event.
Then we have Eddie after leaving the 118 to work at dispatch - we see him start shirtless - essentially when he's at his most vulnerable and then as he finds a way to build up some new walls for himself we see the black singlet appear and then we move on to various tee his spiral happen - we never see him put a shirt on here - he does get into uniform, but its always cut to rather than watching him actually get dressed. He hasn't dealt with his issues at this point and the implication is the walls he's built up - that are letting him pretend to be fine are flimsy - then a bit later we get his breakdown
We get no shirtless Eddie in season 6 - its a season about him dealing with and healing from a large portion of his trauma.
In season 7 we've had him shirtless several times already. Firstly in the locker room - Eddie is shirtless whilst talking about first dates but then we get Eddie putting on his shirt - its denim - much more robust than anything we've seen him put on in this way before as soon as Buck reveals he's single.
Then when Marisol was moving in - not going to go into the parallels with Shannon here - and Eddie starts to spiral. We've already had the closet conversation by this point, so the fact that we have him shirtless essentially in the aftermath of that conversation is an interesting choice, we also don't see him putting on a shirt here! instead we are left with a visual representaion of a part of Eddie he had tried to keep locked up newly exposed.
And now we have this bachelor party - where it seems to be that Eddie is losing his shirt bit by bit (cannot wait to get the context for this!)and ending up in just the collar.
He wakes up in the bathtub in just the collar before he puts the suit jacket back on, in much the same way as he put the hoodie on back in season 3. Its an indicator that while he's covering things up, he isn't actually hiding them - that they are still visible for people to see if they go looking. And while I'm on that subject - the fact the collar is the thing he's left wearing - literally playing into the religious theming of Eddies vulnerability because it is screaming dog collar!
The show making such a clear visual indicator that connects to the last time we saw Eddie shirtless is very telling - its indicating to those looking, that Eddie might've asked Marisol not to move in and taken a step towards dealing with his catholic guilt, but the reality is that he hasn't dealt with it at all and that it is still very much a part of his story - his arc.
THere seems to be something in the soft underbelly of who Eddie Diaz is, that reveals its self for these brief moments, only to be covered up and hidden once more - with varying degrees of sucess. This season its especially loud and telling.
If we look at this season more closely - all of them are interesting moments, and all of them are connected to closets or defacto closets. The locker room - Eddie's locker is open while he is shirtless - he stands in front of it - a locker is a form of closet - its for storing his clothing etc while he's at work - a place where he stores is civvies - his real self. He only moves away from the locker and puts a shirt on, when the conversation moves from him onto to Buck - Bucks vulnerability is not Eddies and so he doesn't need to be shirtless - in fact he needs to not be - to shield himself from Bucks vulnerability.
Then we have the bedroom - which while not technically a closet, is Eddies safe space - a place where he can be his full self (in theory) and shirtless Eddie has one of his biggest vulnerabilities revealed in that scene - its so big that he cannot cover it up and hide it - his catholic guilt. This is the first time we're seeing Eddie's room since Buck was in there at the end of season 5 helping patch the holes in the walls. It makes sense that Eddie having a moment where his catholic guilt is revealed becasue even if it isn't directly a closet it - indirectly because he was going to start putting things in his closet - was going to let Marisol into his closet.
The implications of him not being able to let Marisol into his closet are pretty telling in my opinion. Even the fact that she was coming with her own armoire is in and of itself speaks volumes
And now we have bachelor party Eddie - kicking in metaphorical closet doors (whilst kicking in actual closed doors) and falling asleep in bath tubs whilst wearing pink!
The pink in combination with this idea that Eddie is vulnerable and heading towards dealing with his catholic guilt in the same way that he was heading towards dealing with his other trauma before. Pink - as I've talked about in the season 7 costume meta's is the colour of naivety or innocence. yes there is the idea that Eddie (and probably by extension, Buck) will be innocent in whatever ends up happening with Chimney.
But there is also the idea that this innocence and naivety plays into the fact we're seeing a lot of Eddie shirtless and the play into his vulnerability as well as Eddies catholic guilt and all the closet references. This idea that Eddies naively trying to ignore his catholic guilt, ignore his vulnerablity as well as the fact that his catholic guilt stems back to his childhood - when he was effectively an innocent.
yeah I have a lot of thoughts on all of it
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wonderland
summary: didn’t they tell us ‘don’t rush into things?’ didn’t you flash your green eyes at me? haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds? (or: what happens after graduation to a pair of teenagers in love)
word count: 1k
cw: irresponsible decision making (but i assure you there will be no consequences), The Teenage Need To Get The Fuck Out Of Your Hometown, mountains of fluff, my usual Thing iykyk, excessive 1989-related puns
hajime’s never considered himself an impulsive person.
sure, he’s: headstrong, audacious, hotheaded. but he almost always has oikawa spearheading his more reckless decisions with wild emotional situations, a shield that makes him look like a calm, responsible adult. oikawa could make almost anyone look sane.
hajime is pretty sure even oikawa would call him crazy right now, if oikawa weren’t in argentina. maybe, for all his turbulent nature, his friend really is some grounding force; since he’s been gone, hajime’s felt on the precipice of something… big. earth-shattering.
“i just can’t stand it,” you say, head lolled back onto his shoulder, spine curving into his chest. hajime is trying valiantly to ignore the soft weight of your ass on his lap, even though you’re mostly sitting between his applesauce-crossed legs. he can feel it, though, against his right thigh. he is failing miserably. “it feels like everyone’s moving and i’m… stuck.”
“stuck,” he echoes, and you roll your head so you’re looking right, out of his bedroom window at the familiar landscape of miyagi. the sun is close to setting, having burned through the daytime clouds and casting a brilliant glow over you. your lips look darker and fuller and more kissable in this light, he’d thought earlier, right before he’d kissed them bruised.
“more like a balloon,” you muse. “on a still day. just drifting up, and up, and up, and the birds are just flying by.”
he hums, deep in his chest, in agreement. something’s felt wrong ever since graduation. you and he had stayed, and it had been what you both wanted at first.
but not like this.
miyagi without oikawa, without makki, who was rooming with mattsun in the city while the latter earned his junior degree and the former chased youtube fame, wasn’t what he’d thought it would be at all.
“it’s gonna be all ours,” you’d promised him, graduation cap tilted jauntily and smile brighter than the pure white clouds drifting above. “you’re all i need, hajime.”
but miyagi without the people you’d grown up with was empty, a melody that only echoed memories. it was you and him—and the ghosts of your childhoods.
“you’re not happy here,” he says. not a question.
you twist to look at him, eyes open wide. “i’m happy with you. i didn’t mean—”
“i know,” he says, kissing your pursed, worried mouth. “but we’re not happy here. i feel it too. maybe i’m crazy, but i think we need—”
“change!” you’re sitting straighter in his lap now. “every day is the same. i’m starting to feel like i need to do something insane. i need enrichment in my enclosure.”
he puts his arms around you and you draw yourself tighter into him until you’re cheek to cheek.
“do you trust me?” he says. you snort.
“what is this, haji, aladdin?”
“yes,” he says, rolling his eyes. in this light, they’re a forest, green and deep and irresistibly inviting to you. “do you trust me, princess?”
you nod, and he feels it against him, your skin rasping together. “of course. take me to wonderland.”
“that’s corny, too,” hajime grumbles. “don’t criticize my romantic gestures then reference the wrong movie.”
“whatever,” you brush him off. “how much do we need to pack?”
that’s how the sun sets on your last night in miyagi.
hayakawa tomoka’s job at the ticket counter is so boring. she sits there all night—during the day, she studies fine art—, a magazine propped up in front of her, arching high brows at anyone who hadn’t had the forethought to buy tickets online.
she does so now at the young couple skidding to a stop in front of her, suitcases bulging even if there’s only one each, panting for breath and knocking shoulders as though even their bodies are on a gravitational course to each other. they can’t be more than twenty.
“when’s your next flight to california?” one asks, his straight hair sticking up like a hedgehog.
“…where in california?” hayakawa asks, pointing her mouth at them. “it’s a big state.”
“anywhere,” the other says. “we’ll find our way to where we need to be.”
hayakawa blinks slowly at them. these new romantics are too exhausting to deal with at this hour. she types, click-click-click, wrinkling her forehead at the blue glow of her computer.
you stare anxiously at her as she does, desperately hoping for anything in the next day.
hajime tugs you into him as you wait, and you relax, turning a closed-eye smile up at him while he looks down on you with a mirrored expression.
“too impulsive for you yet?” he says, mouth twisting wryly. you shake your head.
“there’s one to santa ana,” hayakawa says. “the south. in five hours.”
“perfect,” you say eagerly.
“thank you,” hajime says.
there are two seats free next to each other, serendipitously. ticket prices are exorbitant, but not bank-breaking—both of you had worked all of high school at the café next door, earning good tips and waiting for something worth spending it on.
“okay,” hayakawa says finally. “your flight’s set, mr. and mrs. iwaizumi. safe travels.”
“thank you,” you say effusively, “so much.”
“you too,” says hajime, and then turns very red.
hayakawa watches you go, a rare and soft smile gracing her features as your suitcases crash into each other even as both of you refuse to let go of the other’s hand to control their direction. the night shift is boring. something like this shakes things up.
after a race—more like a marathon—through customs, hajime finds himself shifting in a plastic seat, peering through the blackness of the night for a glimpse of airplanes landing. falling stars, sort of, magic to be wished on. you breathe evenly, deeply asleep with your head on his shoulder, his denim jacket wrapped around you, leaving him with just his hoodie and the new band of cheap jewelry around his fourth finger.
his mother would flip if she knew how rushed his wedding was. next time, he promises himself, he’ll do it again with you if you’ll keep having him and the ceremony will be beyond your wildest dreams.
it’s colder than he thought it would be in the airport. the earth is moving under his feet.
you’re all he needs; he’s gonna give you the world.
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