'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.
{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}
//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.
This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)
Also idk how to do all the fancy Tumblr border stuff so sorry if it's all messy :^(((//
Word count: 2.3k
Chapter 1: No Show, No Movie.
I'm keeping my eye on the road, occasionally glancing at the GPS to make sure I can guide my buddy Tanner as he drives. We had quite an early morning to get to L.A., having been on the road for the last 2 hours to get to this airbnb we'll be staying at. Tanner's nearing the end of film school, so he's getting all his classmates and anyone else that's available and interested to help him with his big final project: A legit short film, filmed, written and directed by him. Having some experience with being on camera myself, he elected to make me part of the main cast. I don't mind at all, if it'll help him out. Even if it's a romantic comedy. I'll kiss some dude, get him that 100%. I'm excited for this.
"Has Conner messaged me at all?" Tanner asks, breaking the last 20 minutes of silence. I quit out of my daydream to check Tanner's messages. Other members of the crew have updated them on their location, including a name I don't recognize, but Conner hasn't responded at all.
"Nope. Mostly everyone else is nearly there though." I responded, lightly shrugging my shoulders. A humorous but knowing smirk creeps along the edges of my lips. "Think he slept in?" "I fucking hope not." Tanner huffs, his tone suggesting he's half-joking. "He is literally /the/ male lead. He's like one of the people I need there the most today."
I put the GPS back up on the screen and lay back against the passenger seat, slightly raising a brow to myself. What would happen if he's late, or doesn't show up at all? Could we even get a replacement in time? We only booked this place for the next couple weeks.
As we get off the highway and get even closer to our destination, I see a notification pop up on Tanner's phone, it's the name I don't recognize. Ted. He's not in our friend group and I don't recall Tanner mentioning him from class.
"Is Ted a new guy?" I ask, turning my head to Tanner. "Oh, no, he's like...a friend of a friend." Tanner pauses before reiterating "He's going to be the editor. He's a youtuber, like you; he went to film school as well."
"Oh. He's like the only name I didn't recognize."
"Yeah, he's a cool guy, no worries, he'll probably be there with me to help with the, yknow, directing too."
There's room for a response, but I don't continue the conversation. We don't have a lot of money to put into this, so that airBnb is also where we'll be filming everything. Most of the film crew and extra actors got their own accommodations elsewhere, but some of us will be staying /at that/ location itself. Wonder if that includes the editor? It'd be weird to share a house with a dude I didn't know, but if Tanner trusts him, I will as well. "I know where to go from here, let everyone know we'll be there soon."
I take Tanner's phone and let everyone know we're close by, including Ted, before setting the phone aside. Tanner pulls into what I thought was a street at first, only to notice its the driveway of the airbnb. Wild how we can't afford multiple sets and hotels, but can afford this villa-like estate for nearly a month. Hey, whatever works, right?
Tanner parks by the many other vehicles and grabs his phone before we both hop out. I can't help but look up at how tall the building is. It looks like one of those frat houses an influencer would own, like if you told me this was owned by fuckin' 'disney channel flow' Team 10, I would 100% believe you.
Tanner and I are greeted by most of the cast and crew as we approach the front door of the house, giving the appropriate hugs and handshakes as we head inside. That's when I spotted a tall man in a dark green sweater fixing up some professional looking cameras, dark hair slicked up to add to his already impressive height, with circular glasses to match the relaxed vibe I'm getting from him. To be fair, he only stands out so much to me because I don't recognize him. This must be Ted.
He looks up from his camera when he spots Tanner and I greeting the other crew members. I casually glance away to one of the pictures on the wall to avoid giving the impression I was staring. I have a habit of fixing my eyes onto people without realizing it.
"Traffic?" Is the first word I hear out of Ted's mouth, directed at Tanner. I don't really know what I was expecting to hear come out of this man, but it certainly wasn't a voice like that. It's strong, deep, almost fake sounding, like he's already playing a character, but no, that's just him.
"Dude, we passed by, like, 3 accidents" Tanner shakes his head slightly, putting his hands on his hips. "And Conner hasn't even gotten back to me, It's been an interesting morning."
As they have their conversation, my thoughts turn to a more curious nature as I contemplate what this guy actually does as a youtuber. If he went to film school as well, does he make long video essays? Commentary, like me?
"This is (Y/N), mine and Joe's friend." My thoughts are cut by the sound of my name, realizing Tanner was introducing me to Ted. Makes sense. We don't know each other. "She's gonna be the female lead."
"Ahhh okay, nice to finally meet you. I'm Ted." Ted personally greets me with a gentle handshake and a winning complexion. I return the handshake with a shy smile. "'Finally'?" I repeat to him, raising a slight brow.
"Yeah! Joe's told me about you, 'said you'd be shorter"
A sudden chuckle escapes me. Joe's my best friend and is part of the wardrobe team, of course he'd say something like that. "He's a dick.." I kid, shaking my head to myself. "You, on the other hand, are a fuckin' giant."
"Oh I know. I have to fuckin' duck down to get into any room upstairs. Tallhood ain't what its cut out to be" We both get a laugh out before Ted returns to setting up the cameras. I notice Tanner checking his phone again, visibly both anxious and frustrated.
"Man." Tanner speaks, seemingly thinking aloud. "Still nothing." "Isn't he the other lead?" Ted speaks as he moves to adjust the stand of one of the lights, glancing up through his round glasses. "I figured he'd be here first."
"He should've been here first." Tanner huffs, masking his clear frustration with a chuckle. "I-I don't know what I'm gonna do if he just doesn't show." "What would we have to do?" I tilt my head at Tanner, feeling a little anxious myself.
"I have no idea, honestly" Tanner responds, shaking his head. "At best, we'd have to find someone to take his place within the next, like, couple days. At worst, I'd have to cancel this whole thing."
I frown, trying to think of some helpful alternative in my head, but nothing comes up. I'd hate for everyone to have to go home, and getting the money back for the airbnb would be a hassle. We all pitched in for this place. As much as I've joked about it, it's pretty nice. 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, half the place is a giant living room and there's even more outside. I'd hate to leave without getting to sleep in one of those giant beds. All I can do is hope for the best, I guess.
About an hour passes. At this point, everyone except Conner has shown up on set and most of us that will be on camera are fitted and ready. We had already read through the entire script together over Discord prior to getting here, so all we need to do is just start filming.
I'm refreshing my memory with the script when I hear a notification ping from Tanner's phone. It takes him less than a second to pick it up and look at the message, pausing to read it. I see his expression go from relief to uneasy, his thumbs tapping on his phone's keyboard louder than usual as he responds before setting his phone down and taking a deep breath.
"Conner can't make it."
Silence fills the room for a moment as everyone looks up from their tasks. I approach Tanner, script still on hand.
"What? What does he mean he can't make it?" I asked, honestly shocked with what I was hearing. "So, yknow how he's just...not been responding since we left?" Tanner asks, looking understandably annoyed.
"Yeah?"
"Apparently he ate some bad food last night and has been throwing up since 4am. We left at 5."
The only thing I can do is run my fingers through my hair in frustration. Dude probably ordered bad chicken or something. Of course. "So our main dude, THE male leading role or whatever, has food poisoning." I say that as a statement, but I'm honestly just so confused, I don't want to believe it. "What do we do now? Could we hire someone else in time?" "Even if we could, we wouldn't have time to get the chemistry built up between you two." Tanner shrugs. "There'd be no way of knowing if it'll work out."
"I'll do it."
Tanner and I turn our heads to Ted, who's joined in on the conversation shortly after assembling the last light. My first instinct is to let out a sigh of relief, but I steel myself, trying to really process what he's offering.
"You? You wanna be the male lead?" Tanner points at Ted, rather surprised he'd offer. Ted seemed to laugh at the expression on Tanner's face "What's that fuckin' look for? You think I can't be romantic, Tanner?" "No--" Tanner cackles, putting his palms up defensively as he laughed. "That's not it! I just-- you haven't read the script, and, yknow..." Tanner pauses, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head in my direction. "You two just met, you'll have to, yknow--"
"'Yknow? Yknow?' I KNOW, Tanner. I. know." Ted begins to mock Tanner in a friendly manner while pointing at himself, his strong voice easily overpowering Tanner's timid tone. "I've been doin' this since you were in little baby diapers, alright? I can read the script, I can kiss the pretty lady, I got this!"
I suddenly feel a whole lot warmer, resisting the urge to put a hand to my cheek. I mean, I have blush on already, but now I'm definitely blushing. I'll have to kiss this guy?
I mean.
That ain't a bad thing.
That's a nice lookin' dude. I'd be blind not to see it.
But I did just meet him.
"I mean...." Tanner seems to be at a loss for words, glancing in my direction once more. I realize I've been one of the main talking pieces of this conversation, yet I haven't spoken a word. "Ah--I.." I stammer out what was meant to be a coherent response, realizing I'm a bit more sheepish about this than I thought I'd be. He called me pretty. I...don't know what to do with that. I can handle a compliment, sure, but this was...
"Hey, sorry, I don't wanna step over any lines..." Ted's smile faded after my lack of a response, resting his hands behind his back. "Oh no! I-I wouldn't mind it at all." I finally managed to speak up. I swear, I felt like a bashful damsel in those old transatlantic-accent films. "I mean, like, better this than sending everyone packing early, right?"
"Real flattering." Ted responded with a renewed smile and a chuckle, getting another sheepish blush from me. "Whatever works for everyone, I'm down for it."
Based on Tanner's knowing expression, I can tell he gathered something of use from whatever that exchange was. "I mean..." Tanner repeats again, as if to remind us he's also there with filler words before taking in a sharp breath of realization, or maybe it was one of acceptance, I couldn't tell. Either way, he had an idea. "OK, how about this: most of the crew didn't get breakfast on the way up here and we're all gettin' pretty hungry, we could use some caffeine. How about you two head back out and get everyone something from Dunkin' or wherever? Get talkin', see if it works."
"You setting us up on a breakfast run, or a date?" I collect myself fast enough to make a joke, actually getting a decent chuckle out of Ted. Part of me couldn't believe I had even made that joke aloud, I was also kind of genuinely asking. "I am testing the chemistry." Tanner clarified slowly with a half smile. "And I...don't want to do it myself."
Ted and I look at each other, giving me a brief moment to realize Ted's eyes are brown. Don't know why I've chosen to collect that information now. Just another observation I've made for the day.
...Man, I'm hungry.
"Alright, but I'm not driving your car." I agree with a shrug. "No need, I got my Tacoma." Ted responds, making a clicking noise with his mouth and gesturing me to follow him outside.
"You...have your city in Washington?" I ask genuinely, getting another laugh out of him, not intentionally this time. "Toyota Tacoma. My truck." He corrects me, guiding me to an old dark green pick-up truck. "I've had this baby since high school. Graduated with it."
"Ahh, your high school sweetheart. Lovely. Happy to meet her."
"Fuck off" Ted jokingly scoffs, hopping into the drivers seat. I have this big grin on my face as I get into the passenger side. He's giving me this...oddly comforting vibe. I can talk and joke with this guy so naturally, like I've known him for longer than an hour.
Somehow, I get the feeling we'll get along just fine, even if I'll end up having to kiss him once or twice this month....
....That's got me thinking, how many times am I kissing this guy again?
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You have been hired on as a server at Chops Bar & Grill! The business is great minus the mean fuck of an owner that your coworkers have warned you about, but he never seems to be that way around you! Can you manage balancing your work and love life all under the same roof? Well clock in and find out!
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞: HELLOOOOOOO, welcome to my first schlatt series!! Im so excited to project all my server x boss fantasies onto the big guy AND you guys!! chapter one will drop by the end of the week, so for now please take this email sent out by the big guy himself! can’t wait to see you guys during the first shift!!
✏︎ Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.
While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him.
Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.
✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)
tags: au. 18+ only. fem reader. loss of virginity. corruption kink. oral; (fem & male receiving). dirty talk. fingering. penetrative sex. semi-public sex. break-up/make-up sex. marking; (hickeys, bites, scratches). hints of sub/dom.
w/c: to be advised.
summary: in the midst of a sold-out concert, two worlds ended up colliding. one belonging to eddie munson, with his wild hair, leather jackets, and guitar skills that could make anyone blush. the other was yours, filled with pretty dresses, pastel colours and smiles that could shine in a rain storm.
you might have seen him in magazines and on tv, but you never thought about him like this until steve harrington and robin buckley dragged you along to that concert. now you can't get him out of your mind; you're not sure whether to be grateful or resentful.
summary: you’re a writer for Rolling Stone magazine and Eddie hates the media; or in other words, you’re doing a piece on Corroded Coffin and Eddie can’t stand you.
contains: enemies to lovers, angst, drug and alcohol use, smoking, themes of misogyny/sexism, and eventual smut— each chapter will have more, in-depth warnings.
| -main masterlist- |
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve
tags/more content: price of fame asks | price of fame talks
ever since the epilogue was posted ive been thinking of 24 hours on a 24/7 basis !!! its just so good and im so sad to see it end but so happy to have a happy ending 🎉🎉
i just wanted to see if you recommend any other authors that can possibly fill the hole in my schedule that was waiting for a new chapter of 24 hours im already reading simmer, the yes policy, and a few others but is there anymore you recommend??
ONCE AGAIN i am forever kicking, screaming, sobbing and forever in your debt for writing such a masterpiece like i don’t usually re-read stories but i might have to because i laughed, cried, and screamed during this read omg
oooo depends on what vibes you’re going for!!!
if you’re looking for some “quick” immaculate vibes, @loveshotzz Whatta Man two night series is amazing.
anything by @luveline just warms my soul.
Do I Wanna Know? by @hellfire--cult is stellar and soon to be finished so 10/10 recommends (even if it hurt this latest chapter).
i’m also personally diving into @munson-blurbs’s Trapped Under Ice, so if you’re looking for singledad!eddie and want someone (aka me 🥺) to scream about it with as you dive in… 😌
if you’re more into stunning imagery, gut wrenching vibes, and just overall painful beauty, i recommend @jo-harrington. she has her current series As Above So Below focused on kas!eddie, but her store manager verse and freaky friday series also hold special places in my heart.
also all of @lovebugism’s summer fics have finally gotten me to live out my romanticized summer vibes ngl. they’re gorgeous and a hit every time 🥰
and i have yet to dive in properly yet (be still my beating heart), but my love @abibliophobiaa has a beautiful series for eddie currently called daylight that i am so excited to have some free time to properly read (also… for my steve girlies… beyond is to fucking die for.)
this is just a few i’m personally reading tho!!! i’m forgetting so so many people because the amount of talent on here is just unreal. i could go on and on with more authors but i need to contain myself and not be annoying lol 🖤🖤🖤
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
→ in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, minors dni
→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader
chapters with smut marked with *
spotify playlist.
ao3
masterlist:
PROLOGUE: A BET
HOUR ONE
HOUR TWO
HOUR THREE
HOUR FOUR
HOUR FIVE
HOUR SIX
HOUR SEVEN
HOUR EIGHT
HOUR NINE
HOUR TEN
HOUR ELEVEN*
HOUR TWELVE
HOUR THIRTEEN*
HOUR FOURTEEN
HOUR FIFTEEN
HOUR SIXTEEN
HOUR SEVENTEEN
HOUR EIGHTEEN
HOUR NINETEEN*
HOUR TWENTY
HOUR TWENTY-ONE*
HOUR TWENTY-TWO
HOUR TWENTY-THREE
HOUR TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE: A BET*
"BEYOND THE HOURS" - extra content posted outside of canon 24 hours. (i.e. eddie povs, groupchat conversations that were cut, scenes mentioned in passing, etc.)
i am forever kicking, screaming, sobbing and forever in @ghost-proofbaby debt for writing such a masterpiece like i don’t usually re-read stories but i might have to because i laughed, cried, and screamed during this read omg
we all talk about older!eddie being a divorcee and that has its perks but you know what i haven't seen explored? windowed older!eddie.
eddie who holds you just a little tighter when he hugs you goodbye, keeps you in his arms for juuuust a little longer than usual.
who is so open and quick and liberal with the i love you's from the start bc a) the man is too old to play coy games and b) he wants it to be the last thing he tells you.
who has to learn how to trust again, that means not bombing your phone when you don't send him the "home safe, goodnight" text soon enough. that means letting you fly across the country to see your parents or work in the city late at night where it's dangerous. that means trusting you when you say it's just a cold or a stomachache and you don't need to go to the er.
who never makes you feel secondary to or less-than his wife, but instead tells you how much she'd love you.
who forces you to go to the doctor or the hospital, to get your checkups and your shots, who refuses to let anything medical fester -- even if he's got to stand outside the clinic bc it holds bad memories for him.
who needs you to help him get rid of certain items that are taking up space or are broken or just don't serve a purpose outside of sentiment any longer.
who wakes up from nightmares about losing you and needs to call you if you aren't with him or hold you if you are, to make sure you're still there.
idk eddie who would never take you for granted, who would value all those small moments that through him you learn how to stop and appreciate them too.
twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)
HOUR TWENTY FOUR
in which you and eddie win the bet.
→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn
→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni
→ wc: 7k+
→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?
thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3
masterlist.
spotify playlist.
◁ previous part, next part▷
24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00
DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up.
BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well?
DINGUS: so it seemed.
ARGYLE 😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them
JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour.
NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe.
JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance?
NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.
NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.
DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon
BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next?
HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM
“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”
Steve.
You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.
“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first.
He’s making no move to get up off the floor.
Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.
“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.”
You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through.
“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.
“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious.
If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you.
Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.
“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion.
Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.
Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?”
Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.”
You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything.
“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?”
“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”
“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.”
Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.
Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.”
“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours.
“Right, must have slipped my mind.”
One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.
Almost.
“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”
Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”
“I have.”
Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms.
“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.
He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush?
Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”
Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.
“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“
He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.
“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively.
Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.”
All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.
“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.”
You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”
“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit.
“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?”
You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better.
“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.”
“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.”
“Then consider this your notice.”
Is this what I had always been missing out on?
You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.
It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.
The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning.
Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.
Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever.
“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?”
Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.”
“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”
“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.”
You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you.
“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.
“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.
It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.
“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there.
You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.
—
But then, you actually do have to go home.
You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really.
“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions.
You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.
Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“
“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation.
“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.”
You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?”
“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“
“What have you guys been doing?”
Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.
“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?”
Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?”
“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.”
“What have you guys been doing?”
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”
“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“
Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.”
“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?”
“You don’t wanna know,” you say.
“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says.
It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.
“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”
“Am I?”
Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder.
“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.”
“No.”
“You just said you don’t believe-“
“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.”
Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.”
Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.”
You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.
Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet.
“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.”
“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket.
You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.”
Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over.
Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now.
He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around.
“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.
You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”
“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”
“We do.”
Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night.
“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.
Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly.
It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center.
You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well.
You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it.
“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches.
Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now.
It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now.
“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.”
Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”
“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.”
“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.”
Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?”
“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t.
It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing.
There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it.
You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to.
Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave.
Eddie’s quick to follow.
“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure.
Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C.
Leaving now is not leaving forever.
But it sure does feel like it.
Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave.
One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you.
“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?”
You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive?”
“Will you look at me, then?”
Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.
You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck.
But you don’t.
“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.”
As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you.
“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.
You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Time. You two needed time apart.
“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”
It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet.
You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away.
You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.
—
Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful.
If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went.
But you’re not a good friend.
You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.
The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart.
Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.”
Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.”
“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat.
Because, was it complicated? Was it really?
The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind?
That wasn’t really complicated.
And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.”
“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes.
You wish you would have kissed him.
“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-”
You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.
“I’ll see you later, Steve.”
“Wait-”
You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.
Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend.
And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours.
Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be.
Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems.
“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.
Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted.
“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you.
Rough’s a good way to put it.
“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”
She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it.
Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend.
You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy.
Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress.
You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie.
It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along.
The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless.
The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration.
There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again.
The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two. And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.
The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s.
The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two.
The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him.
Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time.
You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.
Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.
Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to.
You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears.
EDDIE: Make it home okay?
Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now.
YOU: yep. my roommate just left.
EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember?
YOU: like sleeping on a cloud.
You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone.
EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry
EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams.
No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care.
You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.
But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened.
Something about that makes you brave.
YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.
EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?
YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now.
An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds.
EDDIE: Ah. I see.
You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.
But he’d started it. That was on him.
YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over?
EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems.
YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down.
There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours.
Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos.
EDDIE: About that…
You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you.
YOU: About what?
EDDIE: I’m not home right now.
Your heart clenches.
YOU: You’re not?
EDDIE: I’m not.
YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?
Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere.
But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is.
You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step.
The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you.
You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him.
“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.
When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues.
You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist.
“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.”
His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.
“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter.
When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool.
“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?”
“Start over?” you question wearily.
He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.”
His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves.
“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.”
“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.”
You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you.
You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss.
He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?”
You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”
He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home.
“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.”
He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”
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