Steve stood on the curb with his hands on his hips, watching as Eddie slammed the back doors of his van shut for the third time.
"You said you didn’t have that much stuff," Steve called out.
Eddie wiped his hands on his jeans, grinning. "I don’t. That’s the last one"
The apartment had seemed bigger before Eddie arrived.
It wasn’t even that Eddie was messy…well, okay, he was, but that wasn’t the main issue. It was that Eddie existed…expansively. His stuff spread like wildfire. Clothing draped over chairs and piled on the floor, rings and chains left in little metallic piles, cassette tapes multiplying on every flat surface.
Steve, on the other hand, had always liked it organised. Clean lines. Everything in its place. Minimal clutter.
Now there were things everywhere
The first real disagreement happened over the bedroom.
Steve stood in the doorway, arms crossed, as Eddie held up a tapestry, black, covered in some kind of demon illustration that looked like it might come alive at night.
"No," Steve said immediately.
Eddie clutched it to his chest. "You didn’t even think about it!"
"I did think about it," Steve said. "I thought: 'Wow, that looks like it would give me nightmares.'"
"It’s terrifying!" Steve dragged a hand down his face. "Eddie. We are not turning our bedroom into… into… hell’s waiting room."
Eddie looked at the tapestry. Then at Steve. Then back at the tapestry.
"…What if we hang it in the living room?"
"…Behind the couch," Eddie added quickly. "So it’s not, like, staring at you all the time."
Steve sighed. "Fine. Behind the couch."
Eddie beamed at him, "Compromise! Look at us, being all domestic."
Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile there.
Two days later, they tried to assemble a shelf.
This was where everything went wrong.
"I don’t need the instructions," Eddie said confidently, dumping the pieces onto the floor.
Steve, already holding the manual, froze. "You absolutely do."
Eddie waved him off. "Babe, it’s a shelf. How hard can it be?"
Steve sat down a few feet away, instruction booklet in hand. "I’m not helping you if you don’t follow those."
"I don’t need help," Eddie said, already screwing two completely unrelated pieces together.
Steve flipped to page one. "You’re holding the side panel upside down."
Eddie didn’t even look at him. "There is no upside down. It’s wood."
Eddie squinted at the half-built monstrosity in front of him. One side leaned slightly. Some piece was somehow diagonal.
"…It has character," Eddie said weakly.
"…Don’t say anything," Eddie added quickly.
"I don't have to" Steve smirked.
Eddie groaned, flopping back onto the floor. "Fine. Give me the stupid instructions."
Steve doesn't even try to hide his smugness as he scooted closer. "Page one," he said, way too pleased with himself.
Eddie snatched the booklet. "You’re so annoying."
"And yet," Steve said, bumping their shoulders together, "we live together now."
Eddie smiled, softer this time.
By the end of the week, things started settling into something that felt… right.
The apartment wasn’t spotless anymore, but it wasn’t chaos either. Eddie had a designated "stuff zone" , and Steve had learned to ignore the occasional clutter pile that appeared like a cryptid sighting and then disappeared again.
The tapestry hung behind the couch, partially hidden now by the framed photos Steve had hung up in front of it.
And the bookshelf, now correctly assembled, held a mix of Eddie’s books and tapes, while Steve’s old sports trophies were lined up in a neat row on the top shelf.
One night, Steve came home to find Eddie sprawled on the couch, guitar in hand, surrounded by cables.
Then just… stepped over a wire and sat down next to him.
Steve glanced around the room, at the mess, at the weird decor, at Eddie, and shook his head, smiling.
"…We’re gonna need a bigger place."
Eddie's face lit up. "For my stuff?"
Steve groaned. "Oh my god."
Mess and all, it felt like home.
