-[ Vergil's #1 Poem ]-

There’s only 3 things I remember in vivid detail. Balrog carrying me out of Shadaloo’s lab, the look in Falke’s eyes when we first met, and… the beat of their heart. I find myself stepping to its rhythm unknowingly as I wander the streets. I carry out the next odd job, and in the pulsing pain of my knuckles their heart beats there. When I put on my gloves they don’t envelop me with the same warmth of their hand around mine.

I shouldn’t remember how they felt. They never held on more than 10 seconds anyways. I never let them linger for longer, fearing what it would mean if I asked them to stay. You were always so different from me-- smiling, soft, not bound to the past, always moving--  progressing towards a future I could only dream of being a part of. You held your hand out to me, your words beckoning me closer. I couldn’t have moved closer to you even if I tried.

Maybe that was the issue, a lack of effort. You always tried your best, even if you looked fucking ridiculous and ate the concrete more times than actually hitting me. I never pushed you to stay, I never pulled you in. My arms remember your weight but not the texture of your clothes. I was always the one circling you, to try and make contact. I guess… That window is closed now, isn’t it? Before I knew it you were able to evade my blows like they were nothing, leaving me in the dust. Like I was nothing. 

Push, shove, pummel. That's all I know. Did you know that? My fingers have only ever pierced the deep tissue of the human body, the feeling of sinking into skin terribly unfamiliar. Having no choice but to flail around and fight to stay above water. You laughed at me when I said I never learned how to swim. To you it seemed silly, but I never needed to swim until now. 

Now I walk in the doors of the train, I know where I’m going but not where I am. The subway blurs outside and people sway left to right. Left and right, like I taught you. To sway, to be fluid. How to be light on your feet but still deliver heavy blows. For every punch to be made with conviction because uncertainty is what gets you killed. That all a loose grip is good for is letting go. You can’t grapple, can’t get close for a good strike, or drink water without spilling it. Without the pressure of a harsh grip your first instinct is to escape. 

The train rumbles, I cling on to the handle and stay where I am. I don’t move- I don’t want to- I’m content in my frozen existence. The floor is unsteady and as the train turns I plant my feet firm into the ground below. I fight against the current and grip the handles firmly. It’s only a matter of time before I let it go. It’d be easier too, to let go and just adjust my body to the rhythm of the world around me. I just can’t seem to, not while my heart still beats to yours. 

For the time you were in my life you weren’t really mine, were you? I guess you were my student, but that was secondary. Like water, you slipped through the cracks of my fingers. Silently dripping away, I foolishly told myself my bowl was whole, that my cracks were minor. That I had the strength to hold on, to keep you within. You saw my throat was dry before I could feel the walls grate against my saliva. You poured the water for me and all I did was stare into its reflection, disgusted by its image, convinced that it had tainted its flavor. By the time my desperation became unbearable and I finally drank, there was almost nothing left. And now I’m left here with only the sweat of my hands to quench my thirst, the taste stained with the salt of regret. 

Now it’s 9 PM in Metro Station, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I stopped meeting you here ages ago, at least according to my calendar. I can’t seem to tell the days apart, they all feel the same. Still my eye watches the train doors closely, I see parts of you in every person that walks out. As they blur together I could almost see a ghost of your image make its way towards me. My heart tightens in anticipation, just like it always did. The suspense is suffocating despite the fact you’re not coming. 

I wait.

…

….

…..

I'm still waiting.

It was like someone stabbed an adrenaline shot into my veins, I didn't even notice them pass by. Faintly smelling of you.  The version of you not covered in the scent of battle. The one who would press up too close in a packed train. Do you even still smell like that?

The doors are closing, and you’re not here. It’s ridiculous. My guilt praying for a miracle to happen, for you to come to be once more. Just for a chance to say…. Something. Anything. Anything to make you stay a second longer. I’ll even apologize, I’ll say it like it were the only words my cords could produce. Maybe that’d make you leave faster though. I’m an open book yellowed by time, you’ve flipped through my pages endlessly. A lie would be like old white-out, obvious, clunky, and damaging. It wouldn’t change the story, only highlight the words I don’t want to hear.

Would you be able to feel the insincerity in my voice? Could you sense my dishonesty before even taking the time to look at me? Everyday I weigh whether or not I love you or myself more. My feet tell me to run to you, my fingers shake at the thought of calling you, even if I know I’ll just end up in the same pit again. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow Ed.” Even the mere thought of those words made my breath hitch. Such a shit move, to tell me that while I had you right where I wanted you. Your head heavy on my shoulder, a weight that hasn’t seemed to have left me. At the time, that weight was unfamiliar, too much for me to cling on to comfortably. But my body’s changed. It's grown stronger, more muscle to accommodate the extra pounds. That night we bathed together in the somber blue of twilight. I still remember the way your voice wavered, how you barely whispered it. Silently confirming my deepest fears, ones of you leaving without a word. Did the guilt eat at you like it’s eating at me? 

“What?” My voice quivered, I don’t know why it did. I had encouraged you to leave me many times before. I really shouldn’t care, hell, I should’ve kicked your ass for even telling me. 

“You said that you have nothing to teach me anymore, I have no reason to stick around. I’ve seen all Metro City has to offer… I’m thinking of going to Nayshall for a bit, I heard the scene there is pretty active.” You said, calmly. I know I should’ve said something supportive, it’s what the human part of me wanted to say. I knew that would’ve been the right thing, that’s what good friends do. I’m not your friend though. Not in that moment and not now. In some ways we are more and others, less. What a confusing mess that is… I should be glad it’s over. My life has been nothing but contradicting relationships, one less should be celebrated. 

But I found comfort in your clutter. Every time we traded fists I felt myself getting burned by your fire. You always kept things interesting, always changing, you moved as if the world were fighting with you. The best student, you soaked up each lesson like hair in oil. Soaking in the dirt to then show me clean water. It’s beautiful, though we both know I’m no judge of beauty. Still, I get this sick sense of pride when you punch, move, fight like me. Like in some way I’m protecting you. A sign that I’ve been in your head as you are in mine. 

“Just thought I should tell you. So you don’t go thinking I’m dead or anything.” You snicker. Nothing’s funny though. You might as well be dead. 

‘Yeah… I have nothing to apologize for.’ Sure, and yet I’d crumble to my knees if you were to appear in front of me. How pathetic is that? I’d apologize for any and everything too. Maybe for how cold it is, or maybe how you had to stand next to some creep on the train, which I would’ve pummeled for you in a heartbeat. Though I know you would’ve done so yourself. You truly don’t need me for anything. 

That night was the last time I ever saw you, spoke to you, heard your voice. I had so many words left for you, and in an instant I couldn’t tell you any of them. Now I only feed off the fragments of you. Your memory is an unforgettable tune I can never truly hear. One that plays over and over, begging for me to come find it. The way it taunts me in the silence of night, I lay cold and unable to sleep. Though I’d rather dance to this haunted tune than replay that night again. 

“Why’re you acting like more of an asshole than usual?” You had snapped. I really don’t know why I was especially combative that day. I don’t have anything else to blame it on aside from the thought of you leaving had been a raw subject. I know I said something mean and unnecessary because why else would you have punched me?

“What? Can’t handle me leaving? I thought you wanted me to fucking go! That’s all you seem to tell me to do!” I did. Maybe you should’ve left sooner so I wouldn’t be cursed with your name.

It’s morning again. When I wake up it’s like sleep never came. It’s still cold. I force myself to rise because you can’t do anything but think laying down. This day passes by me like it usually does. The city is bright, busy. I move my body and make myself busy with it, but where it goes is lost on me. I can barely remember what I do anymore. As if my brain is keeping room for every second of you still in here. Is that what it means to love? To cling? To leave a room in your mind empty in case they decide to come home? These memories of mine are already starting to fade, but not this feeling. It’s already been so long, I don’t even remember what we said. Just the hurt. 

A fading scar that still hurts to look at. When I think about it, it’s all a blue blur. Like a corrupted video file, fragments are clear and I know the pieces to make it whole are somewhere in my system, but nothing. Just piercing audio and incomplete visuals. 

Before I know it, it’s dark again. I’m looking out at the water. Another day of the same thing. I can tell myself to do something else, so that I’m not in the same place again. The smallest variation helps in not reliving the past. But almost as if the universe is trying to correct itself, I’m back where I began. Today I tried to not come by the water. It’s too much like you, like that night. Avoiding any gigs on this side of town and everything, I wasn’t even supposed to come here. And yet here I am. 

And yet. 

“And yet here you are. Y’know I don’t need you trailing behind me everywhere I go? It’s fucking pathetic.” 

It's an endless loop. Just constant noise in my head, not like the psycho power is helping with it. What manages to flow through the static is the fact I meant it. In a way I still do. People like you shouldn’t be held back by people like me. You made that perfectly clear. 

Maybe I should leave this place too. Forget you with it. Though if I leave, will your memory fully leave with it? And go where? My research leads me to endless dead ends, my contacts haven’t reached out, and Falke is nowhere to be found. Should I call you? Ask what’s happening? If you’re still in Nayshall and if maybe there’s something weird going on? 

As if God’s best prankster heard my thoughts, my phone rings. My heart spikes, I almost don’t want to pick up the phone. The chances of it being from you are zero to none. Of course it’s not you. When I check, sure enough, ‘Scam Likely’. I click my tongue in annoyance, I already have so much bothering me, I don’t need one more. I silent the call and go back to gazing.

Though before I could even put my phone back in my pocket, it rang again. It feels louder than before and now I’m seriously pissed. When I look at the screen it’s not detected as a scam call, but it’s definitely a number I don’t recognize. Specifically, a number from Nayshall. Very funny. I’m really not in the mood to talk to anyone but the thought that maybe it’s a clue, or a contact checking in outweighs my feelings.

I answer. 

“Ah! Hello..?”

The satisfaction of finding that lost tune washes over my brain.

“Hey,” I breathe out. Your voice is so soft over the phone. This had to have been some sort of sick joke. 

“How are you? I know it’s been awhile…”

Yeah. 9 months.

“I’m doing okay.” The words barely escape, a lie through and through. There’s a ticking silence between us. I’m worried that if I don’t say anything you’ll escape me again and I’ll repeat this cycle of sorrow for another 9 months. What should I even say? A question that quietly goes answered as the words that’ve been haunting me for the past few months roll out. 

“Uh, Ed? Still there-?”

“I’m sorry.” 

The 2nd silence is even worse than the 1st one. 

“...Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“Come find me in Nayshall.” 

At that moment, Metro City truly had nothing left for me. I was gone before the sun came up. 

☆ Luke - Choked Up ☆

“Whaa!?- hck! Oh- *cough* *cough*“

“LUKE??-”

It could’ve went better, at least that’s what Luke thinks. He’s currently punching the remnants of his burger out of his trachea while still trying to remain some kind of charming in the process. Though, how charming can one person be coughing out bits of food and flailing around for water? Honestly he might just have to let himself choke to death because this shit is embarrassing as hell. I mean first, he ruined a pivotal moment in your guy’s relationship. And two, let’s be real, he’s never living this down (god imagine Jamie finds out… he might have to actually kill the guy then himself). The thought is quickly shut down because Luke realizes that if he dies now, he can’t say it back! He’ll die leaving you wondering whether or not he reciprocated! He couldn’t possibly do that to you. Well, at least if he dies now, it’ll be to the tune of your sweet laughter.  

“Luke, I think I love you.” You had said sheepishly like, not even 2 minutes prior? And yet it’s already echoed in his mind around a thousand times, and it’ll echo a million times more when he gets home. I mean you can’t just spring that on him out of nowhere! Like seriously, midchew? Your timing sucks. Which is what he would say if he wasn’t still dying right now. Luke signals out to you so that you get the hint to help him out, sure he’ll die for you but this isn’t exactly what he had in mind when he first thought of it. Something more cheesy like, taking a bullet straight through his brain for you or catching some sort of explosive object for you. Hell, maybe he’d even throw himself in front of a train for you, if you guys somehow end up in that situation. That might just be the remnants of his military overthinking though.

You rush over and slap his back as hard as you could, unfortunately his back is built out of pure thick muscle, so when you realized your small smacks weren’t working, you opted to punching him. 3 punches in is when his coughs became winces of pain. Burger remnants successfully in the cluster of napkins.

“Euuuuughhhmygoddddd- OW okay okay you got it thank you! THANK YOU.” Luke wheezes out, attempting to catch your hands. You could say he was successful, if your definition of catching is getting sucker punched right in the cheek. A solid 9/10 jab, if it weren’t for the situation at hand you’d be pretty proud of yourself. 

“HOLY SHIT- Luke I’m so sorry! Are you okay!?” You wince, lowering yourself next to him to lightly cup the side of his face to check the damage. It looked relatively fine, aside from the bright red spot, you can’t say it’ll stay that way though. “Great form champ…” Luke grumbles out. Before you can sulk and feel bad, his hand grabs yours, looking you in the eyes with a soft determination. 

“Did you really mean that? What you said earlier?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle despite the hoarse dryness that still plagued him. 

“Of course I did, what kind of person do you think I am?” You say with the utmost sincerity, matching his tone. You avoid his gaze but you catch his smile in the corner of your eye. His hand carefully guides you to look at him again, before tilting it to press a quick kiss to your cheek and saying your name oh so sweetly.

  “I love you too.”

☆ Jamie - Unrestrained ☆

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie slightly slurs out. He starts scoffing with a smile as if that confession was common knowledge. The fun thing about Jamie is that he’s particularly good at keeping in everything except his irritation. One of the hurdles (if you can call it that) of your guys’ friendship, or any friendship for that matter, was having to learn his mannerisms. To find patterns in his behavior, not just in battle, but in the small moments like these. I mean that’s just what a pupil does, study their master. See the differences in your movements and adapt. To figure out why they choose to put their hand on your waist instead of your shoulder. Whether or not something they said means one thing or the other. 

So while you can chalk up the red tint of his cheeks, the slowness of his voice, and the intense stare he gives you to his “tea”, you’ve learned to look deeper. You two are currently at the usual spot, the rooftop. Nothing was particularly special about this night, unless you consider the vibrant nightlife of Metro City to be of note. It was around 9pm, the sun on its finishing stretch before dark. The city slowly starts to light up, Chinatown in particular glowing even brighter than it does during the day. At this point you don’t feel real, like some sort of omniscient spirit. You didn’t contribute to the noise but floated above it. It was nice, to be in this state of calm and forget the day you had prior. 

Your guy’s conversation wasn’t anything to write home about either. Just your usual small talk, but it didn’t need to be anything special. It was nice, comforting, a routine that could continue until y'all were old. You looked over to him, and he was laughing with so much passion in his eyes about some troublemakers on the subway and how he showed them “what was what”. 

“It really sucked though, the one wearing the chain had some clean ass shoes… It really hurt to watch them get fucked because of his weak ass kicks. Deadass, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve stolen them off his feet while he was still writhing on the floor.” He jokes. You giggle a bit, he probably would’ve if he was a decade younger. 

“They were probably fake anyways, what kinda loser wears expensive shoes and a cardboard box on their head? A broke one, that’s trying to trick you into thinking he’s got it like that, that's who.” You retort, he laughs back. It was almost routine at this point. It started when he was on his patrols and saw you just people watching on the roof. He took a seat next to you and started talking, you asked if he was hungry, he playfully asked if it was a date. Quickly dismissing the comment, you opened your map and started suggesting places. Now every week you find yourself back in the same place, with the same guy, the same plan, and that same warm feeling inside. 

I mean of course y’all have done things outside of your weekly rooftop visit. Like the typical thrifting and boba dates, going to the arcade, the one time you watched him train (suuuuper hot btw), all normal friend stuff. But this particular moment, if you could live at one specific moment of time, this would be it. 

“Wha- What do you mean “you know?””

“Babe, you tell me that all the time.” He deadpans, as if this was a conversation you’ve had millions of times before. You squint at him, confused because this is literally the first time the words ever came out your mouth, to him, in person. Because of course you practiced in the mirror beforehand. Though, you quickly realize, he’s playing a game with you. Behind that smug facade he hopes you double down and confirm his greatest desire. You don’t buy it, from the nervous chuckle to the quick swing from his gourd, he heard you loud and clear, understanding every syllable that came out your mouth. 

“Jamie, you know that’s not true.” You deadpan back. Crossing your arms, any sort of annoyance a normal person would have with him overtaken by your own personal endearment towards the guy. As he opens his mouth to respond, you take a swig from his gourd as well. “Why would I lie about that?” An almost convincing puzzled expression on his face. 

“To mess with me?? Acting like you don’t do that all the time. You know I’ve never spoken those words to you before. You probably just wanna hear me say it again.” You argue back. He scoffs and pokes his finger on your forehead, lightly pushing you back.

“I didn’t mean strictly verbally babe, while I wouldn’t mind hearing it again…” Jamie starts explaining, not before taking back the gourd from your hands. A gentler tone threading its way through his words. “I can just tell? You’re not exactly the mysterious bad boy type. Not that I mind, it’s pretty cute. You don’t have to say it to me for me to know.” 

He glances back at you, chuckling at your shocked expression. So, you’re embarrassed and hot. Maybe it’s the heat creeping up from your heart, the ailment you just consumed, or the old fashioned heating system that keeps Chinatown running rising up to where you sit. Did you really have time to think about that though? When did he figure it out!? And how could you have been so obvious about it? Millions of questions run by upper management, but only one makes it out the office. 

“When did you find out…?” You ask rather meekly. Jamie takes his time answering, sighing and closing his eyes. Scanning his memories slide by slide to pinpoint a singular moment. When he finally comes back to you, he sits up and says, “I don’t really think it was any particular moment… More like, ugh…” As he talks, you watch the way he shyly plays with the rim of his gourd. Lightly rubbing where your lips had been. “I came to the realization that I loved you and did small things to show that? Saying this all out loud makes it sound weird, but I’d see if you’d do them back and evaluate from there.” He explains, getting increasingly more flustered. Though this explanation did nothing but confuse you more, you don’t think he did anything romantic? Just normal friend stuff.

“Like what? I don’t remember you doing anything out of the ordinary of what normal friends do?” You ask, slightly annoyed. He sighs again, “I don’t know how to explain it, of course I cared for you as a friend, romantic interests aside but, you feel that tension too right? That pull? Normal friends don’t feel that.” His hand makes a pulling motion towards your heart. Jamie then puts the gourd down and stands up. 

“Stand up,” he asks, his hand lazily offered for you to take. When you ask why, he clicks his tongue and tells you to ‘just do it’. When your hand meets his, you’re pulled into his body. It’s not doing anything to help with the heat. You feel his hands on your waist holding you closer, firmly keeping you where he wants you. 

“Do you feel that tension? Don’t give me the excuse that it’s because I’m holding you close, does that feel friendly to you?” Jamie asks, voice low in your ear. You can barely breathe, looking at him like this, the world is spinning. It wouldn’t be the first time y’all have been this close, but it’s never felt like this. Or maybe, this is how it feels when you aren’t trying to desperately not think about how close you are to him. Pretending you don’t smell the mix of his cologne and home on his skin. 

  “How could I not know when you look at me like that? Or,” He places a hand on your heart. “When your heart sounds like this when you’re this close? Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t catch me first. You’re usually so quick with those kinda things” He sheepishly mutters, the hand once on your heart now playing with your hair. You frown, pressing your head against his chest. 

“I guess I didn’t wanna get my hopes up, if this went bad I was just gonna say “Oh I meant as friends!” or whatever the fuck…” You mumble into his jacket, the cool texture feeling amazing against your skin. Jamie laughs and holds you tighter. “Are you serious? You know I probably would’ve said it back even if I didn’t like you that way.” 

“...So why haven’t you said it back yet…?” You ask, voice quiet and still muffled. “What was that?” A teasing voice taunting you. Jamie gently pulls your face away from his jacket to look at him. He’s absolutely glowing, and it’s for once not because of the alc. 

“Bitch you heard me.” You spit, little tsundere moment there. He giggles and sighs. 

“I love you too.”

☆ Ed - Tongue Tied ☆

"Do you think you’re funny?" Are the first words that leave his mouth. His voice says it with a certain breathlessness that could be interpreted as a laugh. Ed’s apathetic response leaves you stunned, your brain trying its hardest to fully process its implications. Instead you sit on the slightly uncomfortable metal bench, feeling stupid for even admitting to it. It just felt like such a perfect time to tell him. Just you two, sitting alone by the water at the peak hours of night. The way the moon hit his sharp features as he was yammering on about how the price on this rare trading card went up and how this particular one was special because it had "special iridescent wrapping on it that they only sold at a con in Japan for a week back in the 80’s", sigh. Who could blame you? He freezes for a moment, almost as if he was computing the situation one nervous impulse at a time, before turning away to sit back in his previous position. 

You and Ed had met in the metro one night when he scared off some creeps for you, inadvertently. He was just trying to ask for directions but due to his rough exterior he had become your hero. You insisted on repaying him and well, his greedy ass isn’t gonna say no to free food. Thus began your late night friendship. You guys didn’t even exchange your contact info until way later, seeming to just be able to find each other. One night, much like this one, you had left your place of employment just to find him on the other side of the street seemingly waiting for you. 

“Do you really have nothing else better to do? How’d you find where I worked?” “What the-? I didn’t know you worked here. I wasn't waiting for you.” He scoffed, then pointed to some guy on the other side of the street. Looked like your typical doofus. 

“That fucker owes me money, and in…” He looked at his phone. “2- 1 minute, he’s gonna be late on his payment.” He smirked, pushing himself from up off the wall and towards the doofus, you following close behind. “You’re coming with? Tch, just stay out of the way. Don’t whine if you get hit.” 

Thankfully you didn't get hit, physically. Ed's words always did come with an edge that made it feel that way though.

"Don’t “be sayin’ stupid things like that, especially if you don’t mean it." He scoffs as he goes back to looking at his phone. Is he fucking serious? He can shrug it off all he wants but the way he slouches just a bit more to hide behind his hair or his increasingly red ears don’t escape your gaze. Without thinking, you bring him closer by the collar of his jacket. As if to tell him that he can’t run from this, at least not without contest. 

 “HEY! What’s the big idea!?” He yelped. He grabs your wrists, it’s firm but soft in comparison to his regular grip. Like any more pressure would snap you in half. You stare into his eye, as if it would transfer your months of agony into his brain and treat your poor heart with some more compassion. You wanted to say something snappy, confrontational. You should say something snappy and confrontational and give the annoying prick the earful he deserves. Walking away in slowmo while the beat drops and the background explodes. No matter how hard you try, comeback after comeback plays in your mind but nothing comes out. None of them work, they’re either awkward or plain out corny. In your defeat, you settle with the sound of the river to fill the space between your bodies. 

“Don’t look at me like that, y/n… I can’t be that person for you.” He sighs, breaking away from your gaze. “I’m not asking you to become someone for me, I’m just letting you know.” You say, mentally beating yourself up for spilling the beans. His hand goes from holding your wrists to your fingers. He doesn’t look at you, he can’t. Not while he’s thinking of something to say. 

“I don’t really know how to…do that, much less be someone you deserve.” Ed eventually sighs, his voice growing quieter towards the end. His wrapped hands are now playing with your nails, his calloused tips feeling the smooth keratin. “You can’t learn if you never try.” you whisper back, Ed’s breath hitches in his throat, visibly contemplating his options. A complicated anger simmering below, not towards you. Never towards you. Simply the situation at hand. 

“I don’t want to put you in danger, you know my history. I was a fucking lab rat for most of my life, I just became part of society. Being with people is still foreign to me. I don’t know anything outside of fighting. And the Shadaloo stuff, I can’t afford to drop the ball on that either.” He explains, still not looking you in the eye. You feel like shit, like you just placed another burden by letting that phrase slip. Slowly you take your hand away from his, saying, “Ed it’s okay if this is too much or you don’t reciprocate-” 

“I never said that. It’s just… God, I don’t want to lose you because of this.” Ed interjected. Quickly taking your hand back in his, interlocking his fingers within yours. His expression worried, like everything he’s scared of is just beyond the horizon. His concern is endearing, despite his claims of not knowing how to love, it’s evident he loves deeply. You let out a soft chuckle and with your free hand, punch his arm. 

“Now since when was losing part of your vocabulary?” Ed’s head jerked up, shocked at the suggestion. His eyes finally meeting yours, even in the short time they weren’t with you, oh how you missed them. He let out a small laugh, pulling you a bit closer. Eyes staring deep within, as if he were challenging you. In this light, whether it be from the city’s glow or the moonlight, his eyes seemed to glow. 

“You’re really serious huh? Are you totally sure this is what you want?”

“Ed…I’m HIV positive.” 

…

Mood ruined, Ed groans as you let out a hearty laugh. 

“Are you serious Y/n? We’re having a serious fucking conversation and you’re just playing in my fucking face!” He says your name again in an attempt to pull you back to reality, it doesn’t work, you’re still laughing. “And look you’re still fucking laughing! What’re you? 12? Why would you even say that?” He continues to scold. His angry tone falters the longer you keep howling in his ear. A laugh almost escapes his lips when he repeats what you said. 

“I’m sorry Ed, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I hate being so serious with you. You do it enough for the both of us…” You explain in between gasps for air. When you finally calm down, you look back to him through the small tears that welled up in your eyes. He has the softest smile, looking back at you in amusement and complete adoration. 

“But really Ed, I swear, I’ll fight for you, if you fight for me. You mean so much to me, I wanna be there with you through it all.” You say, lifting his hand to your mouth. A faint kiss to his hand wraps. You can feel his body stop for a split second, the pink returning to his face. The space is still, even nearing 12 am the air is warm and the world feels a bit more saturated. 

“I won’t let you down. I promise.” His hand squeezes yours tighter, his way of saying those 3 pesky words back.