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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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love me softly p18

part 17

Eddie shoves an old worksheet between some books in his pocket messily, inhaling sharply when the paper cuts his finger. He sucks on the cut, furrowing his brows as he tries to sort his locker out one-handed, but he’s interrupted by a gentle rapping on his locker door.

He swings it shut a little bit, still sucking on the cut.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly.

He’s leaning against the locker next to Eddie’s, and Eddie’s eyes widen. He looks past Steve, around the hallway, finding Tommy and a few others hanging out next to a closed classroom door. Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth.

“Hi,” he says softly. “What… What are you doing?”

“Uhm.” Steve hesitates, and Eddie leans against his locker door. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says earnestly. When Eddie shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak, Steve interrupts with, “Just… Let me.”

“…Okay.”

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie intently, and he slides his tongue across his lip, and Eddie remembers suddenly that they’re in the hallway. That people can see them here, at Eddie’s locker, talking to each other.

“When my parents are in town, I…” Steve takes a breath. “I feel like shit. All the time. And I— I tend to take it out on other people, and I don’t— I don’t wanna. Especially to you.”

Eddie smiles softly, and his arms ache. He wants to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve finishes quietly.

“I forgive you,” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles.

“They’re leaving on Monday,” Steve says after a moment. “That’s their plan right now.”

“That’s good,” Eddie says earnestly. “They say where they’re going?”

“Who gives a shit?” Steve says, shrugging, and Eddie laughs softly.

They stare at each other for another moment. Eddie wants to touch him. To hold his hand. To shove him against the lockers and kiss him so hard they both get headaches.

“Steve!”

Steve hesitates before he looks over his shoulder at his friends. One girl (Carol?) is giving him a look, waving her hand. Tommy looks uncomfortable.

Steve looks back at Eddie, hesitating.

“Can I… go to yours after school?”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers. “You can come over whenever you want, Stevie. You could move in without warning and we wouldn’t mind.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are shining.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you later,” Eddie says softly, wishing he could lean over and kiss his cheek. Steve nods.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and then pulls out a folded piece of paper, suppressing a smile as he leans around the door of Eddie’s locker and tosses the paper in. It lands on top of his books.

Eddie looks at him, pressing his lips together and watching him step backward toward his friends. Steve winks.

Eddie looks at the paper as Steve walks away with his friends. He smiles when he sees Steve’s pretty handwriting.

i love you ♡

He leans into his locker and unfolds it, finding a messy sketch of two figures sitting side by side, one of them leaning against the other. It’s done in pen, and some of it is smudged, like Steve didn’t let it dry before adding to it.

He closes his eyes and waits there for a moment, just breathing, just pausing, because he’s aching. Because he wants to kiss Steve so badly he feels like he’s dying. But he can wait.

He carefully smooths the drawing in his backpack as he’s searching for his homework, Murphy standing next to his desk, arms crossed, head tilted.

“I swear to God,” Eddie says adamantly, rummaging through his bag. “I did it.”

“Watch your mouth, Mr Munson.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“I’d like proof that you did it. In the form of the completed worksheet in my hand.”

“I’m looking.”

He huffs after a moment, grabbing his bag and dumping it on his desk.

“I know I did it,” he insists. Someone snickers at the front of the class, but he can’t even bring himself to send them a glare, rummaging desperately through his notebooks and textbooks for it. “God—”

He cuts himself off.

When he can’t find it, he looks up at Murphy desperately.

“I know I did it,” he says again.

“Do you,” Murphy says dryly.

“Yes. Number seven was thirteen point four, and I know that because it took me like an hour to solve it.”

Someone snorts, and he suddenly wishes Murphy had waited until the end of class so he could have kept searching while everyone left, so no one could hear him admit how long it took him.

Murphy just looks at him. Eddie hates him.

“Come on, Mr Murphy,” he pleads.

“This is the third time, Eddie,” he says.

“I’ll bring it in tomorrow,” Eddie says. “I’ll come in before school starts, I swear.”

Murphy might as well roll his eyes.

“Please, Mr Murphy,” Eddie begs as Murphy stalks back to his desk. “Don’t do this to me.”

The other students are laughing, giggling to themselves as Eddie groans obnoxiously and drops his head to his desk. He doesn’t look up when he hears Murphy approach his desk and set a detention slip next to him.

“Clean up your desk. Stop being disruptive.”

Eddie sits up, staring at the pink slip of paper before he sighs heavily and starts sorting his notebooks. He checks that Steve’s drawing is still smooth.

“What, did you have plans tonight?” the boy next to him, James, teases quietly as Murphy starts writing on the chalkboard.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbles, “actually, I did.”

“What plans?” James asks, and Eddie scoffs.

“What, are you a cop? Mind your business.” He looks up just to watch James’s face flush red as Eddie says, “Tell your mother we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Asshole.”

Eddie flips him off and turns back to his desk.

Steve catches his eye in the hallway as they’re all headed to lunch, and Eddie holds up the detention slip with two fingers. Steve suppresses a smile, saying something to Tommy, who glances at Eddie, and rolls his eyes, nodding.

“What’d you do?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall in front of Eddie.

“I was a fucking idiot,” Eddie says. Steve’s brows furrow. “I forgot a fucking worksheet, the one I spent hours on last night. Fucking pointless, because I left it behind, and Murphy doesn’t give a shit that I did it.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly. Eddie sighs, leaning against the wall. Some students walk past them. Steve doesn’t even glance at them. “You’re not an idiot. You forgot your homework.”

Eddie sighs heavily, closing his eyes and turning to press his face against the wall.

“I have to go to detention today,” he says, groaning quietly. Steve laughs softly.

“That’s okay.”

“But you were gonna…” He trails off, turning to press his cheek to the wall, looking at Steve, who tilts his head like a puppy.

“Look.” He speaks quietly, but Eddie can still hear him over the echoey clammer of the hallway. “I’ll hang out with Tommy for a while. Finish your homework in detention. And then you don’t have to do any homework while I’m over.”

Eddie exhales, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face, from his eyes to his lips and back up. His whole body feels sore.

He groans quietly again, squeezing his eyes shut and face the wall.

“Love you,” he breathes.

He grins when he feels Steve’s finger poke his cheek, cutting his eyes over to him. Steve’s cheeks are pink, and he drops his hand.

“You too,” he says quietly.

It’s different when they touch at school. At home, Eddie’s or Steve’s, they’re always all over each other, holding each other close, leaning against each other, draped over each other, but in school, even the slightest brush of their fingers (or Steve’s finger jabbing Eddie in the face) feels so forbidden, so explicit and obvious and public, that it feels electric.

Steve must feel it too.

When Eddie’s face is back against the wall, hidden, Steve’s fingers brush the side of his hand. Eddie can feel flames engulf his whole arm. His fingers twitch to meet Steve’s, and they lace for just a second before they both pull their hands away.

“I’ll see you at yours?” Steve says quietly. Eddie nods, finally looking at him. “Make sure you finish your homework.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve smiles, scrunching his nose in a way that makes Eddie want to kiss it. His cheeks flush.

“Alright, get outta here.”

He watches him go. His eyes catch on Tommy, who looks like he’s arguing with that girl Carol (Eddie asumes that’s her name), talking with his hands, exasperated. When Steve approaches, Carol glares up at him, tossing a hand up dismissively at Tommy before she leaves.

Eddie watches, raising an eyebrow, and Steve sighs heavily, watching Carol go before he pats Tommy’s back reassuringly, muttering something that makes Tommy crack a smile.

Eddie doesn’t see them again until the end of the day, when he’s headed to the detention hall. Tommy is ranting to Steve passionately, and Steve is listening, but Eddie can’t hear him. When Steve’s eyes catch Eddie’s, his face lights up a little bit, and he blows him a small, subtle kiss. Eddie could swoon.

Eddie hates detention.

It’s too quiet. He can hear every single sound, every chair creaking, every pencil scratching, every cough and yawn and sigh. He works slowly through his homework, singing Shoot to Thrill in his head and bobbing his head in time with it, wishing he was working at home so he could be wandering back and forth in the living room while he works. He kicks his legs under the table trying to avoid touching the floor so the rubber soles of his shoes don’t scuff it loudly.

He manages to finish everything except his statistics homework. (Maybe he’ll ask Tommy for help with it tomorrow.)

Wayne is in the living room when he gets home. He’s watching a baseball game, sipping at tea from his favourite mug (a second-hand University of Indianapolis mug he’s had since before Eddie moved in with him).

“I don’t suppose you’re any good at statistics,” Eddie says as he’s kicking his shoes off, stumbling backwards into the kitchen and reaching for a glass.

“I don’t watch baseball for the numbers.”

Eddie pauses as he fills the glass with water from the sink.

“That is the gayest thing I’ve every heard you say.”

A laugh bursts out of Wayne, and Eddie grins while he downs the water.

“What’s going on with statistics?” he asks as Eddie joins him on the sofa, laying his head on Wayne’s leg.

“Murphy is ass at teaching, and it takes me like an hour to solve one question.”

“You got any friends that could help?” Wayne asks, his voice echoing in his mug.

“Probably Tommy.”

“He in Hellfire?”

Eddie scoffs, smiling at the ceiling.

“No, he’s Steve’s best friend.”

“Ah.”

When sets his arm over Eddie’s face obnoxiously, and Eddie closes his eyes.

“I will bite you,” he says, his voice muffled by Wayne’s shirt.

“Don’t.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He waits there for a while, listening to the crackly voice of the commentator from the television, until there’s a knock at the door. Eddie scrambles up, shoving Wayne’s arm away and stumbling as he heads to swing the door open.

“Hey,” he says, smiling when his eyes meet Steve’s, and he steps back, letting Steve in and shutting the door. Steve doesn’t say anything, instead leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Eddie’s lips. His hand slides over Eddie’s neck, into his hair, and Eddie sighs, his shoulders falling as he kisses him back. Steve presses one more chaste kiss to his mouth before he pulls away and looks at him.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi, Steve,” Wayne says from the sofa, and Steve startled violently, jumping with a loud “Oh my god.”

“Hi,” Steve says breathlessly, his cheeks bright red, and he lets go of Eddie, rubbing his face as he looks at Wayne, who’s watching the game again, smiling. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” Wayne says dismissively, waving a hand, sipping his tea. “You kiss your boy all you want.”

Steve looks at Eddie, bashful, blushing, rubbing the back of his neck, and Wayne looks over again.

“How’re you?” he says, and Steve looks back at him. Eddie can practically see the armour of King Steve fall away right in front of him.

“My parents are in town,” Steve says, grabbing the strap of his backpack that’s hanging from one shoulder, his other hand reaching for Eddie’s. “I don’t like them very much.”

Wayne’s eyes flash with a concern that Eddie recognizes, that makes Eddie’s own chest ache, and he frowns.

“You stay here as long as you need,” he says, demanding it gently.

Steve cracks a weak smile before he looks at Eddie, his hand squeezing Eddie’s so gently it’s like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

“Uh, I told my parents I’m spending the night at Tommy’s,” he says says hesitantly. “If that’s okay?” he adds nervously, looking at Wayne, who seems to understand that Tommy’s is code for home.

“‘Course,” Wayne says. “If you both get to school on time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Steve says, smiling, looking back at Eddie.

“Did you tell Tommy?” Eddie teases, and Steve makes a face with a sassy, “Yes.”

“Did you finish your homework?” Steve asks in the same tone, raising his eyebrows when Eddie hesitates.

“Everything except stats,” Eddie says. “I was gonna ask Tommy for help tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

He says it too softly. It goes with whatever is behind his eyes right now, something that Eddie can’t really read. (He hopes he’ll learn to someday.) Eddie squeezes his hand. Steve squeezes back.

Eddie tugs at his hand, stepping backward down the hall.

“We’re going to my room,” he tells Wayne.

“I’m going to work,” Wayne says, draining his mug.

Steve’s face flushes pink, and he turns to face Wayne, letting Eddie drag him away.

“Bye, Mr Munson.”

“Don’t call me that!” Wayne calls back, sounding horrified, but Eddie can hear the smile in his voice.

“Love you!” Eddie shouts before he closes the door and looks at Steve, who’s smiling at him, their fingers tangled. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Steve says quietly, dropping his bag to the floor. That thing is still behind his eyes, shining dimly like an old lightbulb, and Eddie’s heart twists, and he tugs at Steve’s hand. Steve falls forward against him easily as the front door of the trailer shuts, and he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, holding him tightly. Eddie’s wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him so close they’re pressed completely together.

Steve inhales deeply, slowly, before he exhales against Eddie’s neck.

And then he does it again, taking a slow deep breath, and Eddie opens his eyes, running a hand up Steve’s spine. He furrows his brows when Steve takes another deep breath, slow and intentional.

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, moving a hand to touch Steve’s cheek, shifting to press their foreheads together. “I got you.”

Steve sighs shakily, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s hair, holding the back of his head.

Eddie closes his eyes again, waiting.

When Steve is breathing normally, Eddie says, “Tell me.”

Steve sighs, combing through Eddie’s hair gently.

“I hate them.”

Eddie nods, gently untucking Steve’s shirt and putting a hand under it so his rings slide over Steve’s warm skin.

“They suck the life out of everything,” Steve says softly, his breath on Eddie’s face. “I mean…” He swallows, taking a breath. “I swear everything looks greyer when they’re around. And I…”

Eddie prompts his with a gentle nudge against his nose. Steve kisses him softly before speaking again.

“I feel like shit. But not even, like… Like normal… shit. Not like— like sad or irritable or— I just…”

He exhales. Eddie runs his hand up his spine again, his other hand set firmly on the small of his back.

“They suck the life out of me too,” Steve says softly. “I’m so fucking empty, Eddie, there’s nothing inside of me.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at him as his heart splits a little bit, like the seams are too worn, too thin. And Steve looks back, his eyes distraught, like he knows exactly what Eddie’s feeling. Like he feels bad for it.

Eddie pulls a hand away from his back and manoeuvres it under Steve’s arm to press it to his chest, looking down. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks at Eddie curiously, waiting until Eddie speaks quietly, almost whispering.

“Can feel your heart beating.”

He looks into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s lip quivers.

“You’re not empty, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. “You got… Like. A whole fucking universe in your chest.” He presses his hand against his chest more firmly, and Steve’s eyes flutter shut. “And you got all these secret galleries inside your skull,” Eddie adds softly, rising to his tiptoes and lifting his chin to kiss Steve’s forehead. “No one’s seen ‘em yet.”

Steve’s hands tighten on his hair and he pulls him into a hard kiss without opening his eyes. His lips don’t land square on Eddie’s, but neither of them really care.

Eddie’s hand slides up to Steve’s neck, holding him tenderly. He can feel his pulse beneath his skin.

He tilts his head as Steve kisses him deeper, slower, holding Eddie’s head like he’s holding him in place, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, touching Steve’s cheek. He’s always so warm.

“God,” Steve gasps when they part. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispers.

He opens his eyes and looks at Steve, touching his cheek, tracing his moles and looking at his shining eyes.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Eddie breathes. “My pretty boy.”

Steve smiles and tucks his face back into Eddie’s neck with a small groan. Eddie hugs him again, laughing softly and swaying as Steve relaxes against him him, heavy and boneless, stepping side to side.

“We gonna dance again?” Eddie asks, smiling.

“Don’t have Toto,” Steve mumbles into his neck.

“Mm. Could turn on some Anthrax.”

Steve laughs softly, kissing his neck.

“You wanna hang your drawing up on your wall?”

“My wall?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve lifts his head.

“Okay.” He’s smiling.

He keeps smiling as Eddie gets the drawing for him, smooths out the creases Steve folded into it, and hands it to him with a thumbtack, and he keeps smiling as he pins it under a colourful drawing he did a while ago of a window Eddie recognized from Ms Malcolm’s classroom, the lines paper covered in scribbly green and blue highlighter and ballpoint pen.

Steve is still smiling when he steps away from the wall, looking almost proud, and it occurs to Eddie that Steve’s never seen his art up on a wall, displayed, unhidden.

Eddie tackles him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up with a loud noise as Steve squeals Eddie’s name, kicking.

He’s clutching at Eddie’s forearms, laughing and screaming, and Eddie manages to toss him onto the bed, jumping on after him and trying to hold his wriggling body down. But Steve is an athlete, which Eddie obviously never forgets, and he overpowers Eddie after he giggles for another minute.

Steve pins him down, straddling his waist and gripping his wrists, and Eddie finally stops fighting after seeing his face, flushed and beaming so brightly Eddie doesn’t think they even need the light on. His hair is tousled, wild and falling around his face as he leans over Eddie, panting.

“I win,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. “I let you.”

“Oh, did you?” Steve laughs, sliding his hands into Eddie’s and lacing their fingers, pressing Eddie’s hands into the mattress.

“Mhmm.”

Steve giggles again, leaning close enough that their noses brush, and Eddie closes his eyes, waiting until Steve kisses him.

God, he loves kissing Steve. He’s always so soft, always playing with Eddie’s hair gently and tracing lines over the side of his neck (which always tickles in the best way), always making these sweet, sweet sounds.

When they finally part, Eddie has rolled on top of him, a hand pressed under his shirt to press to his warm skin. Steve’s fingers are holding Eddie’s hair out of the way.

Their lips are shining and bitten red, their cheeks flushed, and Eddie can’t stop smiling.

“So anyway, how was your day?” he says, and Steve bursts into laughter.

He talks to Eddie as Eddie pulls him out of bed and to the kitchen, and he leans against the laundry machine as Eddie rummages through the fridge for leftovers. When Eddie gives Steve a plate, the food steaming hot, Steve says, “Thank you, baby,” softly, and Eddie suddenly realises how badly he wants to marry him. To have this every day, this domestic bliss. To come home from work and make dinner while they tell each other about their day.

They eat together right there in the kitchen, talking and laughing and teasing, and Eddie falls in love with him all over again. His hair is still messy, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, and he looks so… at ease. Comfortable in Eddie’s kitchen, leaning against the laundry machine with his ankles crossed. (Eddie's noticed he leans a lot. He likes it.)

They end up laying in bed side by side later, Steve’s legs sprawled over Eddie’s. They’re both looking at the ceiling, and Steve is playing with Eddie’s hands, tracing his veins, his rings, his nails. He tells Eddie about his day, about some kids fucking around in class and almost getting everyone extra homework, about him and Tommy doing their homework together after school, about Tommy’s obnoxious I’m so bo-o-ored! that he repeated about every five minutes.

Eddie tugs his hand over a few times as he talks, just to kiss his knuckles.

After a while Steve’s voice falls quieter, slower, softer, and he shifts to face Eddie, sliding his hand to hold onto his arm. He squeezes gently, sighing.

Eddie stops talking. He’s looking at the ceiling, smiling when Steve’s fingers tighten around his arm. He can hear Steve breathing, and he can hear him fall asleep. His breathes become heavy, slow and even and steady, and Eddie smiles before he rolls his head to look at him.

Steve’s sleeping face is different from his resting face. It’s… calmer. He looks almost happy when he’s asleep, content. Light and relaxed, faint traces of a smile gracing his beautiful face.

Eddie gazes at him.

The sun is almost down outside, and Eddie strains to see him after a while, so he closes his eyes.

It’s almost pitch dark when he wakes up, but he isn’t really awake. He’s uncomfortable, holding onto Steve but still wearing his jeans and rings. There’s a chain digging into his leg.

He inhales deeply, shifting and furrowing his brows before he cracks his eyes open. The moonlight is silver, dim, and he can just barely see. Steve shifts at the same time, groaning quietly, and Eddie watches as he does the same, squeezing his eyes shut and squinting.

Silently, they detach from one another, closing their eyes again as they reach down and unbutton and unzip their jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed. Eddie rolls over and blindly pulls off his rings, setting them on his bedside table. When he rolls back over he opens his eyes weakly and finds Steve tugging his shirt over his head, so he does the same. Steve pulls the blankets up and waits until Eddie tosses the shirt away.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, his voice rough, laying back down. Steve moves closer, laying across Eddie’s chest and sighing as Eddie takes the blanket, draping it over their bodies. He wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him closer. “Love you,” he mumbles.

Steve’s legs twine with his under the blankets, and Eddie is half asleep. Every touch feels muffled and quiet, Steve’s skin soft on Eddie’s.

Steve hums weakly and nuzzles into his neck.

part 19 read the whole thing on ao3

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