A little continuation of my roommates au from the other day
Eddie adores his roommate, Steve. He's a sweetheart to everyone, almost: Eddie has seen the guy wake up out of a dead sleep because a specific ringtone plays on his phone, and then proceed to talk whoever is on the other end down from what sounds like a pretty nasty panic attack. He talks constantly about "the kids," a group of twenty-year-olds that have apparently been in Steve's life since they were eleven, and they way he speaks about them is closer to a proud parent than it is a family friend or (as Steve claims) babysitter.
Steve is also the perfect house spouse. The guy works a full-time job (whatever it is, he won't tell Eddie) and still insists that he does all the cooking and most of the cleaning. Eddie mentioned once that his favorite way to relax was to listen to heavy metal, and any time Steve is home before Eddie, that's what's playing through the apartment. And Steve KNITS, too. Just sits in their living room, wearing sinfully short shorts, a soft yellow sweater, and his glasses (these stupid FUCKING frames that make Eddie want to do awful, awful things to Steve before marrying him), knitting blankets and sweaters. Once, Eddie saw him crocheting a crop top using the colors of the lesbian flag, and he almost proposed right then.
But Steve, perfect, beautiful Steve, is the definition of a himbo. He's broad and strong, but it's like talking to a puppy. He tilts his head to the side and gets this adorable little expression on his face, like there's nothing going on behind those pretty brown eyes. He smiles and blushes such a pretty shade of red whenever Eddie calls him pet names, and Eddie desperately wants to see just how far he can make that blush spread.
But there's something about Steve that he can't figure out. The guy sleeps with a knife under his pillow and a bat with these long, jagged nails sticking out of the end propped against his bedframe. He wakes up from awful night terrors he won't talk about at least twice a week, and never brings any of his friends or his kids around the apartment. He gets shifty whenever Eddie brings it up.
In fact, the only thing Eddie DOES know for sure about his roommate is that he gets a visitor once a month: a police officer from Bumfuck, Indiana named Hopper. Hopper shows up on the first Saturday of every month like clockwork, and spends the day with Steve in the apartment. Eddie knows something weird's going on, because Steve calls the cop "Dad" and asks for updates on everything happening in his hometown. One memorable June, Hopper had brought news that Richard and Karen Harrington died in a fiery car crash, and Steve spent the entire rest of the visit with misty eyes, but once Hopper left it was like a heavy burden was gone.
Eddie has no idea what's going on with his roommate Steve, but he's too infatuated to not find out.