several sentence sunday
hello! from this post i saw on here yesterday and also the ridiculous would u peel an orange for me tweets
He imagines his heart as a citrus fruit, bright and bursting. This feels like digging a nail into the rind, working your thumb in, peeling it; quick, because this is already a familiar act—so much of loving Buck feels like memory, even the new.
Half of what’s inside, the softest, stickiest, most tender parts of Eddie, given to Buck. The way Buck holds and handles with wonder each wedge of it like it’s—maybe not the first he’s ever had, not some Garden of Eden shit with its contorted belief of sin behind wanting and sharing, but like he’s going to savour it for the rest of time, plant the seeds inside that full-of-life place in his own chest. Keep Eddie there, look after this thing they’re giving each other so they can grow: upwards and intertwined and old together. Jesus, has Eddie always been this gross?
This kind of giddy-in-love feeling that has every cell in his body vibrating with want and excitement and—joy, isn’t it? Untouchable, unshakeable joy, every time Buck so much as looks at him, never mind the touching and the telling and the loving on. That’s normal at the start of a relationship, Frank had told him. Yes, even an adult one, not a teenage hormone in sight.
It’s just—his relationship with Ana hadn’t really had that, even at the start. And his second go-around with Shannon had been fraught with way too much hurt still held onto by them both. Attraction, passion, desire—check, check, and check. But this simple exhilaration, this fucking thrill that runs through him every time he remembers he gets to take Buck’s hand whenever the urge strikes? Every time Buck takes his hand, casual and easy? It’s a rush like no other.
But that fades, right? You date for a few months, you live together, you learn, or relearn, every one of the annoying fucking habits the other person has, intimately, and you love them, so much, but the giddiness fades, right?
But they’re coming onto a year, and there’s a ring stuffed into the bottom of the pair of Eddie’s socks he’s sure doesn’t have holes in them, and still, still, he thinks of Buck and he wants, giddy. He looks at Buck and the excitement is a full-body thrum. He reaches for Buck and the joy inside him is bursting, demanding, cannot be contained; it spills over and stains them, sticky like his split-open heart.
And maybe that’s okay, he thinks, that he gets to feel like this without a deadline.
Because if he gets to give it to Buck, press it into his hands and his mouth and the wispy curls at his hairline? It feels like joy is the point, and Buck’s the glowing foundation of it, and Eddie’s ready, actually, to spend a very long time getting accustomed to just how much happiness is his to keep.
idk where this fits yet, might belong to a wip or may write something more around it :)
tagging @onward--upward @eddiebabygirldiaz @housewifebuck @chronicowboy @colonoscopys @rewritetheending @jeeyuns @zahlibeth @anakinfallen @buckactuallys @bucksbignaturals @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @eowon @clusterbuck @try-set-me-on-fire @butchdiaz @transboybuckley @devirnis <3
81 notes
·
View notes