You walk through double doors with your head low, slow and sullen as you stare down at the pavement under your shoes. With your hands stuffed in your pockets and a frown etched into your face, you make your way to the car parked outside. When Eddie sees you from his spot leaning against your car, he stands straighter and uncrosses his arms. "Oh, come on," he says as he watches you approach, taking a couple steps closer. "What happened?"
You stand in front of him, your face fallen as you kick at the ground. His shoulders slump at the sight of you, "They're idiots for not taking you. You know what? I'll go in there right now and tell it to their stupid faces."
You shake your head, putting your hand on his chest and gently shoving him back. "Don't bother, it's not worth it," you mumble, a slow smile creeping on your face as you look at him. "Because I got the job!"
Eddie's face immediately lights up as he sees the large grin on your face, opening his arms and welcoming you in them. "I knew it! Never doubted you for a second," he exclaims as he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms around your head pulling your face into him. You don't mind. "God, I hate that stupid act." He mumbles the last bit into your hair, making you chuckle at him.
Eddie holds you a little bit too long, but you don't find yourself objecting for even a moment. You even hold him tighter, bringing him in a little closer as you bury your face in his chest. He welcomes it, his head resting on top of yours as he lets out a long contented sigh.
It's only when you both realize that it's been a little too long that you finally make a move to step away, albeit a reluctant one. You clear your throat and ignore the slight awkwardness in the air as you speak, "You promised me a party."
He smiles wide, rounding the car to the passenger's seat to let you in, "And I never disappoint."
The smile you return is just as mischievous as his as the both of you get in the car. He picks up the walkie-talkie in your car — one that the kids you practically babysat half the time gave to you and Eddie months ago when they met you. "Hey, you little shitheads, you there?"
After a moment, Dustin's voice breaks through in slight static. "Yeah, we're here. What's up? Over."
"You remember that party I mentioned?" Eddie asks, his eyes never leaving you as he speaks.
"Yeah," he says after a moment. He adds onto the end, "And please say 'over' at the end so that I know you're done speaking. It's not that hard, people. Over."
Eddie rolls his eyes at the machine, shaking it in his grip, "Well, the party's on, so get the other guys... Over." The last word is said with fake venom, another roll of his eyes discarded to the side before he looks back at you.
"Thank you," Dustin sighs dramatically. "And no problemo. I'll tell the others, when do you want us? Over." Eddie turns to you in question and you just shrug. He and Dustin figure out the rest of the plan while you comment in the background, and Eddie drives you both back to your place.
You demand Eddie to bake a cake from scratch with you and, because he can never say no to you, he agrees. Since neither of you can really cook anything outside of a pot of Chef Boyardee, he is a little reluctant to agree. But, again, he can never say no to you... especially when you look at him with that specific look — eyes wide and pleading, bottom lip jutted out, hands clasped together as you stare at him. He swears you're a little witch with how easily you can persuade him.
With one of Eddie's tapes playing loudly through the stereo and your parents away on a day trip, the both of you skip around the kitchen with one of your mother's cookbooks. Your rings are discarded safely while you work — you basically had to fight Eddie to take them off so they didn't become gross while you handled the food.
You set the buttermilk on the counter next to him as he reads the cookbook and holds out his hand toward you. "I need salt," he says. You give it to him and watch him measure out the ingredients.
"Wait, how much does it say?" you ask him, peering over him at the book, your chin resting on his shoulder.
He points to the amount as he turns his head, his face dangerously close to yours now as he speaks almost nonchalantly. "Uh, it says a fourth of a tablespoon, so..."
"Are you sure?" you ask as your brows knit together. "That sounds like a bit much."
"Yeah," he says. "But that's what it says, see?" He brings the book to your face, you read it off, and agree with him. He pours the ingredient and moves on.
A little while later and your clumsiness decides to rear its ugly head. As you walk over to Eddie with the vanilla as he holds a whisk in his hand — neither of you could figure out how to use the stand mixer, so you had to substitute — you unscrew the lid.
"How much of this stuff do we use?" you ask, bringing the opening to your nose to take a whiff. You had not expected to trip on a rag that had fallen on the floor. The vanilla flew out of your hands and landed right in the bowl, spilling its contents inside carelessly as you clasp a hand over your mouth.
"Shit, shit, shit! Bug!" Eddie chants in a screaming voice as he moves to take the vanilla out of the bowl far too late. You stand up a little straighter, leaning forward and taking a peek inside of the bowl where the dark liquid stains the batter. You look over at Eddie, whose eyes find yours after examining the batter.
"It should be fine...right?" you ask, chewing on your bottom lip.
He looks back into the bowl and just nods slowly, "Yeah, totally. It's a vanilla cake. It's fine." You nod and turn to the bowl again, humming gently. Eddie gets to mixing and you both watch as the batter darkens considerably, holding back snickers and smiles as you stare at it.
"Did you set the oven?" Eddie questions.
"I knew I was forgetting something!" you exclaim, rushing to the oven to turn it on. Eddie laughs and shakes his head as he continues to stir the batter like a maniac. "Don't overmix it!" you tell him quickly.
He stops and looks at you, "What's overmixing? How long do I mix it?"
"Well, you... I don't actually know. Just don't do it," you shrug, glancing over the batter again. "Just grease the pans and pour it in."
Just as you say that, knocking comes from your front door and you smile as you rush to it. You swing it open with a loud thud against your door. Eddie waves from his spot in the kitchen as Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Steve, Nancy, and Robin stand in the doorway. Dustin is holding three pizza boxes, Max has soda, and Robin is "hiding" a case of beers.
You turn over your shoulder, "Do we have enough cake for nine?"
"I think we should just get a backup cake at this point, Bug," Eddie tells you, staring at the batter like he's concerned for its well-being.
Steve holds up a tray of store bought cake, "Already got it covered."
You smile at him, "See, this is why I like you Harrington."
"Cake? Cake is why you like me?" he questions as he walks into the house after the others.
You have to change the music as the others settle in. Eddie's metal isn't as suited for everyone else's taste — much to his dismay. Every time Dustin tries to reach for a beer, you have to smack his hand away and shove a can of Coke in his hand. "No," you tell him, like you're scolding a misbehaving puppy.
"Just one!" he insists.
"Henderson!" Steve yells, his hands on his shoulders as he stares Dustin down. "No beer."
"Oh, come on. You're not even allowed to drink yet!"
"No beer!" he repeats. Dustin throws his arms into the air and walks away with a Coke and a pout. You're dancing around the kitchen with Robin when the ding of the oven lets you know the cake is done baking. Eddie practically races over, opening the oven door with mitts on his hands, wielding them as if they were powerful gauntlets as he builds up to take the cakes out.
"Eddie, it's hot," you rush him, dropping Robin's hands.
He rolls his eyes but removes the two cake pans from the oven, setting them on the stove to cool. He takes a whiff of it, nodding as he turns to you with a grin. "Smells good," he says.
From the living room, Steve and Dustin stand next to each other with looks on their faces that convey their doubt. "I don't trust it," Steven shakes his head.
Dustin agrees, "Yeah, if we eat that thing, it'll probably lay eggs in our stomach and eat us from the inside out."
Steve stills, slowly turning to face Dustin as he gave him a look that told him how insane he just sounded. "Dude..." he mumbles before walking away.
When he removes the cake from their tins, Eddie immediately reaches for the chocolate frosting. You stop him, "No, you have to wait for the cakes to cool before you frost them."
"Why?" he questions.
"Because otherwise the frosting will melt on the cake," Nancy tells him. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she leans to the side, raising a brow as she stares at him questioningly.
He scoffs, "That's insane."
"Eddie!" you exclaim as he takes a big scoop from the container and dumps it on the cake. He watches it slowly slide off the hot surface and shrugs, continuing to spread the chocolate frosting. You sigh and shake your head, deciding that since he has already started, you might as well help finish.
The finishing result is a two layered cake that looks like it has seen better days as you all surround it, watching it like you are waiting for it to move. The frosting is melted on top of the cake, and the cake sags a little to one side. It's very sad in presentation, but you hope the taste makes up for it as you take a knife to cut it.
You cut into it, giving each person a generous slice of yours and Eddie's creation. You stare at your slice for a long time, poking at it and sniffing it to make sure it doesn't give off anything. It smells heavily of vanilla, but that's to be expected. You and Eddie share a long look before finally taking a concerningly large bite of the desert.
Desert was the wrong word. Whatever it is you had just put in your mouth was some sort of abomination. It's salty and ripe, like you had put an old rubber band in your mouth and chewed on it like gum. The taste is truly horrific. The look on your face is reminiscent of a baby sucking on a lemon.
"Aww! Eddie!" you shout, rushing to the trash to spit out the remains.
"Ah, shit!" he screams, looking as though he is panicking as he's right behind you, ready to dispose of the disaster. The others are quick to follow in their reactions, some rushing to bathrooms and others just going outside. They are all either yelling or seemingly on the verge of tears.
"What did you put in there?" Lucas asks, chugging water like he is trying to save his life. In a way, he is.
"My tastebuds are melting off!" Dustin yells, his voice screeching as he holds his tongue out of his mouth.
"It was the salt!" you yell. "It was the salt. Oh, God, Eddie, it was the salt!"
"I know — and you're the one who put all of that vanilla in it!" he shouts back.
Your response is quick as you scream back at him. "It was an accident, I tripped."
The following conversation is mostly all of you screaming at one another about the whole situation. The cake was awful. Plain and simple. You had never thrown anything away so quickly in your life — the dish included. By the time everyone calmed down, it was already dark out.
Nancy takes the kids home as night becomes more apparent. Steve was going to do it, but you insist that it is supposed to be "big boy time" now that the kids are gone. You try to convince Nancy of the same thing, but she's insistent on making sure they get home safe. So you let her go.
Eddie snatches the television remote after pushing a film in for a movie. It is your favorite movie, and therefore his favorite as well. Steve plops down next to him. It seems he is ready to stir things up as he sits a bowl of popcorn in his lap. "So what's up with you and Bug?" he questions, glancing at Eddie as he sits through the credits.
"What do you mean?" he asks, messing with the ends of his hair out of sheer boredom as he stares at it, his chin pressing into his chest.
Steve shrugs, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth. "You're acting all weird."
Eddie looks up at him, a single brow raised. He drops the lock of hair and looks at Steve, flinging his hand to the side so his palms face up. "Uh, Harrington... have you met us?"
He rolls his eyes, sorting through the popcorn. "Weirder than usual," Steve corrects.
Eddie rolls his head, looking at Steve from the side as he entertains his strange idea with a smirk. "Like what? Enlighten me."
"Well," Steve sighs, "first of all, that look." Eddie furrows his brow curiously for elaboration. Steve shrugs, "It's like... You're staring at each other. It's weird."
Eddie is the next one to shrug, rolling his eyes and still not catching on to what Steve is insinuating. "Yeah, it's that... 'best friend stare'." The quotes he puts around the words stay in the air even after he finishes talking. They only drop when Steve laughs heartily, shaking his head and staring at the popcorn, picking through it like he was searching for a specific piece.
"Ha, no," he says. "That is not a 'best friend stare'." He looks back up, a smile on his face as he points. "This is the friend stare." He turns around on the couch, looking over his shoulder at where you and Robin are standing behind the kitchen aisle, talking about something they couldn't hear.
Feeling the eyes on her, Robin turns her head to see Steve looking at her. Her smile is confused as he watches Steve, who just keeps looking at her. Soon, she just shakes her head, "What the hell do you want, dingus?"
You and Eddie laugh at Steve as he slumps his shoulders and turns back around, "Okay, maybe... maybe not like that, but you get the idea."
"Yeah, sure." Eddie rolls his eyes and looks back at you and Robin, or rather, you. He's searching for you, looking for a reason to turn around and see your face. Your eyes find him quickly, searching his face as you take him in. You're wearing his jean jacket — you had stolen it from its place on a chair a while ago just to put it on. It smells like him, a comforting smell, a smell you were wrapped in just the night before.
Eddie doesn't mean to stare, he just finds himself caught up in the way your eyes look over him. He flashes you a smile, and you return it, waving dramatically at him. He returns the wave, and then flips you off to earn your feigned offense as you place a hand over your heart and roll your eyes.
He chuckles and turns back to Steve, who acts as though he isn't about to laugh at him. Eddie ignores him and shoves his hand in the bowl of popcorn, grabbing the handful and eating individual pieces after examining each one.
"If that's not the 'friend stare', then what is it?" Eddie continues to entertain the absurd idea Steve has in his head about the both of you out of sheer boredom... and maybe a bit of curiosity as well.
Steve shakes his head again, another chuckle in his chest, "Not friends. It's too..." He trails off, looking for a word with furrowed brows as his eyes stare thoughtfully at the TV screen, "...longing."
Eddie only allows himself a split second to think about it, not daring to leave too much time for Steve Harrington to think he is actually getting to him. "Yeah, okay," he scoffs. "Whatever you say, Harrington."
Steve makes a face, almost a scowl. "You say my name like it's some kinda insult," he says.
Eddie turns to face Steve, sighing and giving him a sort of teasing smile. "You are so smart, man." He pats him three times on the back, pulling a cigarette lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket laying across the arm of the sofa.
"Are you being sarcastic?" Steve questions.
As Eddie shakes his head and laughs with the cigarette between his lips, he flicks his lighter as the flame lights up. You catch him before he can even bring the flame to the end of his smoke.
"Hey, no smoking in the house," you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest as you look at him from across the room.
He huffs and closes his lighter, dropping his hands to the cushions pathetically and slumping in his seat. "Why don't you love me?" he exclaims, leaning his head back over the couch.
"I do," you roll your eyes. "But Mom hates the smell." Eddie grumbles to himself, snatching the bowl of popcorn out of Steve's grasp and placing it in his lap as the movie finally starts. Steve begins to protest, but easily gives up as he sits back with crossed arms.
You roll your eyes again at Eddie's pouting and return your gaze to Robin, who's picking toppings off of a warmed up slice of pizza to specifically eat. "So what's up with you and Eddie? You guys finally a thing?" She pokes your shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
"What? What are you talking about?" you ask, slapping her hand away. "Stop that. What do you mean 'finally'?"
She gives you a look, tilting her head to the side as she continues to tease you. "I mean– it's obvious, isn't I?"
You roll your eyes, "Obviously not, if I have to ask." You bring the mouth of your beer bottle to your lips, taking a drink and turning your nose a little. You never liked the taste of beer much, Eddie knows that about you. He's glancing over his shoulder and quietly laughing at you as you talk to Robin.
"I thought you, like... liked him," she suggested, nibbling on a pepperoni slice.
Your eyes widen as you look at her quickly. "Eddie? Of course not. We're friends. Like you always say, 'platonic with a capital 'P"."
She snorts as she laughs, shaking her head and looking at her pizza again, sighing with a hum at the end. When she looks up to see you still staring at her, void of humor, she tilts her head. "Oh, you're serious?" You don't give an answer. She snickers, "Bug, you are smitten with a capital 'in love'."
You scoff and shake your head, waving your arms around in an 'X' motion as you flail your hands. "No, nope. That's insane."
"Trust me, it's not," Robin says, finally taking a bite out of her now cheese pizza. She shrugs, "It's cool. You guys would be so cute together. Weirdo One and Two."
You shake your head, peaking at the label on the cold bottle in your hand. "Be realistic, Robin," you mumble, taking another sip of the unflattering substance.
"Psh, it's not realistic to be in love with your best friend?" she asks, raising a brow and flashing another shameless smile.
"Not like that," you insist. "I mean, would you be in love with Steve?"
He snorts, "I'm in love with Steve in a way that friends are in love with each other. Besides, it's Steve Harrington. Platonic–" "–with a capital 'P'."
"I know," you huff.
"I mean, when was the last time you went on a date with someone?"
You have to stop and think about it. You can't really remember any recent happenings in that situation. "I mean, why would I be asked out? I'm part of Hellfire, automatically a nerd."
She snorts, "And? Steve tried to ask you out one time and Eddie threatened him. It was really funny. I mean, Danny Phillips tried to ask you out once too, same thing. Eddie told him with a smile, 'The only way you'd be allowed within ten feet of her is if we're using you as one of our human sacrifices in Hellfire.'. The way he paled, I'll never forget." She starts laughing.
You shrug, "That's nothing. I said the same thing to Gracey Smith when she got too handsy with Eddie."
She giggles out her response, "Oh, my God. You're perfect for each other."
You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder, "He's my friend. I'm just protecting my assets."
"Or protecting his ass," she quips with a grin. "Keeping him all to yourself."
"You're insane," you shake your head.
She chuckles and grabs your beer bottle by its neck, taking a drink from it and shrugging. "Think about it." She walks away to sit on the couch next to Steve to watch the movie.
You mumble after her a small "yeah, yeah", still standing in your spot and drumming your hands on the counter before joining the other three lounging on your sofa.
You fall back onto the couch across Eddie's lap, stealing his popcorn as you turn your attention to the TV, your feet dangling over the edge of the arm of the couch. One of his hands lays along the back of the couch while the other sits on your arm, his thumb stroking figure-eights over your skin absent-mindedly.
Steve and Robin share a look, smiling and holding back laughter.
~
It is later on that night when Steve and Robin decide to leave. You and Eddie are right after them, turning off lights and locking doors before you get in his van. He drives horribly down the road, his car serves and skids over the road. You are hardly fazed, sitting comfortably with his reckless driving.
"How did you ever get a license?" you question him, your head resting on your fist as you look over at him.
He has a cigarette snug between two fingers, smiling at you as he holds it at his side. "I don't."
"That's right," you nod as you grin. You chuckle lightly, plucking the smoke from his fingers and taking a drag, "You don't." You return it to its original spot, looking back through the windshield as you shake your head.
Eddie grins softly at you, his eyes lingering a little too long as the road disappears under his tires. He looks back to the dark road, driving through the night as his headlights light up the road.
As you get to his home, skidding to the stop along the dirt road, you get out with him. He drops his cigar, stamping it out before throwing his front door open and welcoming you inside with a bow and a gesture to the entrance. "My ladybug," he dramatizes. You roll your eyes and walk inside.
By now, Wayne has already gone to work, so it's just you and Eddie. The first place the both of you go is straight to Eddie's small room. He seems eager about something as he corrals you inside. As soon as you are inside his room, you plop down onto the bed and grab one of his pillows to shove into your lap.
"I wrote another song," he smiles, grabbing a tape as he holds it in two hands like a holy gift. "This one's for you," he says, loading the tape into its respective place so you can listen to it.
"Oh, you shouldn't have!" you tease, placing a hand over your heart and looking at him through a smirk. The music begins to play throughout the room. Rather than the music being turned up into a thunderous volume that would disturb the peace the night had to offer, it is offered up more as background music. You are grateful for that.
He copies you with a grin and flourishes, "Oh, but I did."
You raise a brow in challenge, leaning forward as you ask him, "I was under the impression that they were all for me, Munson?"
He throws himself onto the bed next to you, laying on his back, his body sprawled out on the sheets. "No," he sighs contentedly. "The last one was written for the love of my life, Steve Harrington. I've never seen an ass so perfect in my life." He slams both hands over his heart, his eyes closed as he continues to smile.
You gasp in feigned betrayal before rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. I know an ass ten times better than Harrington's."
Eddie rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand as his elbow digs into the mattress. "Oh? And who's the lucky guy, pray tell?"
You smirk, laying back now so that your head now rests on his chest. "Her name is Robin, and I've never seen one as perfectly sculpted as hers." You raise your hands in the air, making a round motion as if outlining Robin's ass as you hum.
Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "Oh, whatever." The both of you share a laugh. You have grown addicted to the sound of his laughter, this sound that reverberates in his chest and bounces with each individual chuckle. You can't help your smile, which hurts your cheeks as you shake your head gently.
After a moment, you speak up, "And while we're on the subject of ass..." You sit up, turning around so that you are leaning over his chest, your arms propped against his body as you stare down at him. Your faces are closer than you expect them to be, with the way you lean over him, it gives you perfect access to his face... to his lips. You shake away the thought as you offer a smile, "This song is not that. I like it."
"Do you?" he asks again, his lips still turned in a smile that seems to be a common expression for him around you.
You nod and hum, "Yes."
He beams, placing a hand on his chest while the other sets itself on your back, his thumb still stroking. "Do you really?" he questions. Part of his tone suggests that he's teasing, but the other part tells you that he is genuinely hoping you really do like the song he wrote for you — one among the many. He can see the eagerness in his eyes.
"I do," you chuckle, chewing on your bottom lip. "I love it."
He nods and looks up at the ceiling, his smile still perfectly intact as he answers slowly, "Well, I love you, so...."
You pause. It is such a normal sentence, a common confession with the two of you — it has been for years — but, lately, it feels so different from all the other times. It's almost like how Robin described it....longing. You ignore the confusing fluttering in your chest and smile at him, "I love you, too, Eds."
He nods, humming a little even. His eyes shift to see you again, and his lips quiver, like his face can't decide whether it wants to smile or not. You are both very hyper aware of his hand on the small of your back, his thumb still tracing circles there as you watch each other a little too closely.
Your faces are so close... Well, maybe not as close as you think. It feels like you're hardly an inch apart and growing closer, but you are not nearly as close as that. There is still plenty of space between your face, between your lips... but it certainly does not feel like it.
Before you can do anything either of you could possibly regret, you interrupt the moment. It is not in a cruel way. You surprise him as you roll him onto his side, snuggling in behind him and wrapping your arms around his body. You pull his back into your chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
He makes a shocked noise that mixes into a laugh, and you return it. You start moving your face back, though, as his bushel of unruly hair shoves into your face and makes it tougher to breathe normally without his hair in the way. "Pff– Your hair is so bushy," you comment, using a hand to swipe some out of your face.
He chuckles and accepts your embrace with him as a little spoon, snuggling in, "You love my hair."
"Yeah, but I like breathing without hair in my nose, too," you tell him.
He just shrugs, "Breathing's overrated, anyway."
You roll your eyes at his words, your voice dripping in sarcasm as you chuckle, "Oh, sure. Absolutely. Easy for someone who can currently breathe to say."
You lay your head down with a gentle sigh. One of your arms is squished under Eddie's weight. You don't care much. You focus on his hair as your fingers oh-so-softly comb through it — and either he is deep in thought, or he really likes you playing with his hair because he hums a little when he goes to let out a breath.
You listen to the music. It's different from all the others. There are no lyrics yet, and it's not as quickly paced. There's a point where you hum gently, recognizing the repeated part of the chorus. You don't see it, but Eddie smiles.
After a few moments of otherwise silence, Eddie speaks again. "So I was talking to Harrington earlier..."
"I know, I was there," you tease, putting your arm back over his waist. You try to pull him over, but he doesn't budge, so you just scoot in closer yourself.
"Ha, ha," he breathes monotonously. "He brought something up about... Well..." He trails off, trying to find the right words and ultimately deciding he's changed his mind. "Nevermind, it's not important." He laughs to play it off.
"No, tell me." You poke his shoulder and press your forehead against his back after blowing on the back of his neck, just to earn that squirmy reaction from him. "What were you two losers gossiping about?"
He shakes his head and laughs, "Nothing, probably just some Harrington bullshit."
"As per usual," you tease. He lingers there for a moment, tapping his finger on the pillow underneath his head. Then he turns over on his other side so that he's facing you now, propped up on his elbow. You copy his movements, offering a smile of encouragement.
He sighs deeply and shrugs one shoulder. "So he said..." he laughs weakly, hardly looking at you as he speaks. "Well, he said something about how our 'best friend stares' aren't actually...'best friend stares'. He said they're too...they're too longing."
You don't say anything. You don't mean to stay silent, you just start thinking. You glance away, licking your lips into your mouth and sucking on them lightly.
"Like I said," Eddie is quick to shake his hand and wave his hand around, trying to change the subject, "it's Harrington bullshit. Forget about it." On the outside, he looks like he's laughing at a stupid joke, but on the inside, he's panicking. He doesn't want you to take it the wrong way, to find his words off-putting and scare you off. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off.
But you weren't easily scared.
"You know what's kind of weird?" you ask him, finding his gaze again. He hums. "Robin...said something similar. She said," you laugh plainly, "she called me smitten. Said we'd look cute together."
He doesn't respond immediately, and you laugh it off the same way he had. You are in dangerous territory, at least, that is what it feels like as your heart picks up. "I don't know, maybe they're ganging up on us."
He chuckles flatly, "Yeah, maybe."
Once again, quiet settles. It's uncomfortable...but it also isn't uncomfortable. You are confused, can't really read the room as you try to see what he thinks about all of this. Is this all a big joke that isn't really being executed correctly? Is he actually considering the possibility that Steven Harrington and Robin Buckley are onto something?
By now, the music has already come to a stop, so there's nothing to fill the suspension. But Eddie puts you out of your misery of racing thoughts and a racing heart. "You ever thought about that?"
You hum. His voice offers you some refuge from the silence.
He shrugs a shoulder. His head is still sitting atop his hand and his elbow is still digging into the mattress, "Maybe we would look, I dunno, 'cute' together." He puts quotes around the word. It isn't the word he wants to use, but he can't place another.
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, humming again. "Maybe..." You trail off, still thinking and looking at his guitar pick hanging over his chest. "But we'd have to be..." you lock eyes, "willing first."
He bites the inside of his cheek. "We, what if I was?"
"What?" His question catches you off guard.
"Willing, I mean," he tells you. His voice is hardly above a whisper, but you don't think he knows that. He looks nervous. "What if I was willing?"
You didn't realize how close his face was to yours until then. There's barely any space. You can feel his breath. It smells like smoke.
"Well, then," you also don't realize you are whispering, "maybe I would be willing, too."
He licks his lips, but does not move. You use the way his eyes find your lips as approval, confirmation, because there was no way for you not to kiss him then.
His lips are soft, kind of chapped. He tastes like cigarettes, but he also tastes like butter popcorn and chocolate from Steve's cake. Your eyes flutter shut, your lips mold together, slotting perfectly, as if this is all they were made for: kissing Eddie Munson. The kiss is slow and soft, and you raise a hand to brush along his jaw.
Your body is warm and cold all at the same time. You don't care. Eddie feels perfect.
The kiss breaks. It was not a breathless one. You actually feel as though you have breathed a breath of fresh air for the first time.
He chuckles breathily. It almost sounds drunk, giddy, like he is still trying to believe that you just kissed him. You bite your lip and almost giggle.
"Well, that's a relief," he chuckles. "Because I'm pretty sure I am absolutely in love with you...and I'd be more willing to do this than I have been willing to do any in my life."
It feels like a rant to him as he speaks. But, to you, it's perfect. You cherish every word, every nervous chuckle, and every breath he takes.
He looks down at your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. You raise it, allowing him to hold it in a gentle grasp. "I love you, Ladybug," he smiles. "And not like a friend."
You chuckle, it's just a breath. You raise your hand to his face, brushing some of his hair from his face and giving him a smile. You lean in again and kiss him. This one is quicker, but it doesn't feel like it.
"I love you, too, Eddie. And not like a friend," you add the last bit with a soft laugh. He cherishes your laugh, smiles drunkenly at it, almost chortles when he laughs with you.
"Well, that's a relief," he repeats. He's red, his cheeks are flushed and his neck and ears tint pink. He laughs again, and this time you join him.
You lick your lips and nod, laying back down against the mattress and scooting into him. You lay your head against his chest, bringing your hands to his side. His arms wrap back around your body, a protective hold that you adore. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you sigh contentedly. "That's a relief," you repeat.