#eldon x ben.

[empathreading]

"I want it badly." :))))

idk | @feltstrange

​ THEN.        by the time eldon had realised he was in love with ben, he’d spent two weeks pretending the sweater he stole was his. blue, visible amongst the other blur of clothing he was too careless to bother putting anywhere but on the floor of his room, and all too often a reminder. there are only so many times you can google search how to not love someone (google search: how to look at ur best friend and not want to kiss them even tho you really really want to); only so many times you call leave drunken voicemails containing drunk ‘i love you’s’ before you realise you’d mean it sober, too.

  (google search: how do I tell him if I love him / is it unrequited if I’m not sure how he feels / r there scientific explanations for falling in love).

  THEN.        you can’t tell someone you’re in love with them when they’re smiling and sliding their cold hands into yours. eldon doesn’t need to search that to know saying it could ruin this, even if half his search history is him trying to figure out love because all he knows about it he learned from his parents’ (google search: how do I hold without being scared of letting go). his own grip is too tight, too afraid. afraid, like him telling ben he loves him– like whispering something he can’t take back with ben’s lips warm against his neck. afraid, like he has never felt this in love with someone but he’ll wait for ben to say it first just in-case.

  NOW.       eldon has a hand fisted in the front of ben’s sweater, fingers unsure but comfortable, and breaths low but deep. it’s just late enough that the last remains of daylight are struggling to light the room, casting cold shadows, and eldon’s gaze travels from ben’s throat to his jaw to settle on his mouth. ben knows what’s he’s doing even if eldon isn’t sure, torn between closing the distance or waiting for ben to himself. despite the warmth, either from the closeness or the remaining sunlight, ben’s hands are cold on eldon’s skin. for what must be the first time, eldon doesn’t bother shifting away.

       his voice, quiet and willing: “how badly on a scale of one to ten?”

  (google search: how to tell him you love him.)

[empathreading]

"There are many reasons I cannot always tell you what I want to tell you. But the main reason is that you need to find it out for yourself."

wtnv | @feltstrange​

      California isn’t home these days, nor is the house he grew up in, and it hasn't been for years. More specifically, home is where Eldon has deemed fit in New York ( an apartment, or Ben’s apartment, or Ben ) and the familiarity of waking up near his best friend. Eldon tries not to dwell on thoughts of permanence or thoughts of them always being like this ; never knowing, but falling asleep curled around one another and sometimes ending up close enough that Eldon can’t help but think about certain things. Kissing, mostly.

       Home, these days, is waking up at midday with Ben’s hand moving the hair from his face with a steady hand, and moments that they don’t talk about because they’re friends. And, there’s a degree of terror that finds a place when you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. Looking and thinking, imagining, but never saying anything because maybe it’s too terrifying; too much to know you would do anything if they asked. Because, you love them. Because, you fell in love with them when you were young and never really stopped. Because, sometimes it terrifies Eldon so much he feels like he might crack from the pressure. 

        Sometimes, he imagines waking up in the morning curled around Ben, their breaths synched, warm and heavy in the quiet of a cold morning, voices tired as they mutter hello to the sunrise, and how it would feel to have their bare skin hot against each other under the covers. He imagines afternoons where they still haven’t gotten out of bed and where they’re laughing but neither of them can quite remember why; he thinks he could get used to it ( is partly afraid he has ).

       “I already know.” Unspoken: and it terrifies me– being in love with you was unexpected and it’s terrifying, but, I’d still pick you every time.

       Unspoken: You feel like home and not just because you make me feel safe.

       Unspoken: I know all I know about heartbreak from my parents.

       Unspoken: Do you remember when I was drunk and I called you to tell you I loved you and you didn’t say it back?

       Unspoken: Do you remember when you kissed me on the train platform and I ignored you for three days afterwards?

       Unspoken: What about that time we were watching that movie you liked and the girl picked the other guy in the end?

       Unspoken: Compare the heartache of everyone in every movie who fell in love and wasn’t loved back.

       Unspoken: The thought of you not loving me back feels just like that.