One word prompt—necklace!
Steve is staring. He feels like he’s always staring, these days. Like his eyes have betrayed him and have decided to make his stupid, annoying crush on the weirdest guy he knows painfully obvious.
It’s just that stupid guitar pick necklace.
He knows it’s cheap, has seen the way it leaves behind little green trails on Eddie’s neck if he forgets to take it off at night.
“You’re staring,” Robin says, chewing on a twizler she didn’t pay for. Eddie is perusing the horror section, again, probably gearing up to remind them of how dismal it is. He’s bent over at the waist, oversized shirt gaping at the neck, necklace spilling out to tangle with curly hair.
Does nickel taste good? Steve thinks it must.
He gives a non-commit grunt, not bothering to look her way. They’ve been over this too many times for him to try to deny it. He’s staring. He will continue to stare. His eyes might just fall out of his head.
Eddie walks up, the necklace tangled up, tugging at the left side of his neck, pulling the flesh tight, the bright red pick resting on his right shoulder. Will it leave a bruise? A little hickey for Steve to be jealous of?
“Blasphemy! A year and a half and still, no copy of The Evil Dead. I will be having words with Keith,” Eddie rants, arms flailing wildly.
Robin and Eddie go on and on, debating what makes a good movie for the millionth time. Their voices wade in and out, lost to Steve’s staring.
I’m going to get my hands on that necklace someday, I swear to God. I'll trade it for a ring if I have to.
andulkaphoto
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