#just fluff

Phase 1: Morning

Right. If only all that excitement in planning hadn't left you doubting and rethinking all night, which lead... to this.

In a quiet corner of the school library, slumped on a table, you slept peacefully, head laying on an open book. You could swear up and down this wasn't the idea. But you had a free period, and the sun coming in from the window was weirdly warm for winter, and your eyes were just so heavy... Yeah, you didn't really resist much.

On the other side of the school, aforementioned best friend was looking for you, whistling to himself. It was fairly easy to get a hold of you, especially at school; there weren't that many places to linger. After checking the music room, he went on to the easiest option, which was in his experience 99% of the time correct.

He started making plans in his mind. In a place so boring, the only good thing was annoying the single person he was sure wouldn't kick him to the curb. The grin he sported was worthy of the Grinch. He could sneak up on her, snatch her pen–

Or maybe not.

Eddie's smirk softened as he spotted you, and he quietly made his way over, carefully scooting into the chair beside you without a word. He just watched you for a moment, focused on the way your brow was slightly furrowed even in sleep, clearly having fallen out despite your best efforts to stay awake.

"Classic."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and gently pushed a stray strand of hair from your face with the tip of his finger.

"You're gonna catch hell if one of the teachers finds you asleep in here, Sunshine." His voice was barely above a whisper, teasing but fond. Truthfully, he couldn't care less. But you...

He continued to observe you, his brown eyes roving over your peaceful face for a moment before he glanced around the library to ensure no prying eyes were watching. Coast is clear. He turned his attention back to you. "Hey, sleepyhead." He murmured, his finger gently tapping your cheek. "Wake up."

"Mmmhmm... five minutes..." you mumbled, scrunching up your nose.

Eddie chuckled low, leaning in closer until his voice was nothing more than a breath against your ear.

"Five more minutes and you're gonna have Old Lady Allister breathing down your neck about 'academic dedication' or some shit." His thumb brushed across your cheek, warm and rough. "C'mon, pretty girl. Up and at 'em."

It was a nice attempt, but all he received in response was a soft huff of breath, your mind stubbornly clinging to dreamland.

Eddie snorted at the way your brows furrowed even more, a small smile playing on his lips as he realized that you were actually drifting back into sleep. Maybe, he could let you sleep a bit more. For a moment, he just kept watching you breathe, noting every small detail of your face. He followed the lines of your features and shamelessly took advantage of this free chance to stare, his thumb continuing to brush gentle circles against your cheek. "Damn it, Sunshine."

He glanced around again, then with an amused shake of his head, he carefully pulled off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The library wasn't exactly the warmest place of the building, and even though you looked warm enough– in a pretty skirt nonetheless, his brain uselessly supplied– you could use another layer. He was always running hot, surely he wouldn't catch a cold just for this. Then he propped his chin in his hand, settling in for a few extra minutes of watching you sleep rather than waking you up.

"Guess I'm skipping more than just history," he muttered to himself. "Whatever."

A few minutes later, you so rudely interrupted his gratuitous show with a groggy blink, raising your head.

Eddie's eyes snapped to yours, and he repressed a laugh at the sight of your ink-smudged cheek before you even realized its existence. A soft smirk played on his lips as he watched you blink away sleepiness like some adorable little creature waking up from hibernation.

"Well look at that. The critter's waking up."

You squinted, feeling around the table for your glasses while yawning, "Ed? 'S you?"

He chuckled at your sleepy question, leaning back in his chair as he watched you pat the wood. "Yeah, it's me," he replied, his voice low and gentle. "You had yourself a little nap there, Sunshine."

Finally reaching the glasses, you rubbed your eyes with another yawn before putting them on, "I was sleeping so well. The sun was just perfectly warm and cozy..."

Eddie's heart skipped a beat at your sleepy action, the movement pushing the glasses up the bridge of your nose in the most adorably disheveled way. Unfairly cute. "The sun, huh?" he teased, his gaze lingering on your face.

"From the window, genius," you retorted in a quiet grumble, brain slowly turning back on. Shit, was your plan already off track? You didn't even get to start!

He laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Whatever you say, Sunshine," he replied, his gaze drifting to your cheek. "You got a little something there," he pointed out, tapping his own cheek to indicate where the ink stain is on yours. "On your face."

Your eyebrows pinched. Something...? You wiped a hand on your cheek, and groaned at the faint blue lines on your palm, "Aw, shucks."

Eddie watched you wipe your cheek and inevitably miss, his smile softening at your frustrated expression. Without thinking, he reached out and gently took your hand away, using his thumb to wipe the ink stain himself. "Here," he murmured, his touch lingering on your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. He should really learn to keep his hands to himself. "Better?"

You peered at him over the frame of your glasses, "Thanks." While it might have seemed you were only looking at him, your eyes were actually scanning his appearance. His jacket. Where the hell was his jacket?

His heart fluttered at the way you were so attentively looking at him over those glasses, his thumb accidentally brushing against your cheek again as he pulled back. What exactly were you looking for? Did he have something in his teeth? He was pretty sure he brushed them this morning.

"No problem," he mumbled, suddenly very interested in picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "You... uh... you're welcome."

Your eyes narrowed, and then you noticed the weight of his jacket on your shoulders, mentally pumping your fist in triumph. Target one acquired. Somehow. Sheer luck, but hey, who cares?

Eddie extended a hand, fully expecting you to give it back but instead it froze in the air when you put your arms through the sleeves, wearing it properly, and burrowed into it, "Thanks for this too."

His eyes widened as you slipped his jacket on properly, sinking into it like it was the most precious thing you've ever worn. His stomach did a stupid little flip because Jesus christ, you smell like him now. His brain tripped over itself, "It's cold in here," he commented dismissively, but his voice came out rougher than he had intended.

You just hummed, picking at the edge of your book, nose peeking out from the collar of the jacket. Now, it was just a matter of waiting before you could go on with your plan. The problem was, would he let you hold on to the jacket long enough?

Meanwhile, Eddie was staring at you, unable to look away from the adorable picture you made with his jacket wrapped around you. He didn't think he could ever forget it, the pretty sight was starting to practically burn itself on his cornea. If you ever gave it back, maybe he shouldn't wash it. No. No. Bad idea. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he suddenly realized that he's in trouble. Big fucking trouble. "Hey, Sunshine?" he asked, his voice strained.

You placidly closed the book, thoughts already on the afternoon while gathering the scattered pens, "Hm?"

"You wanna keep it?" he blurted out, then immediately winced at how stupid that sounded. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms, trying his best to salvage what he could, "I mean— I just... if you're gonna steal my jacket, the least you could do is return the favor sometime." Good recovery, Munson, he thought bitterly.That was smooth. Not.

You looked him up and down, looking like the embodiment of skepticism, "You do realize it's impossible for you to fit into anything of mine, right?"

Eddie's mouth quirked up at the comment, a low laugh rumbling from his chest. "Obviously," he teased, though there was no real bite to it. "I meant the thought, Sunshine. The gesture. Not like I could actually wear your pretty pastel sweaters or whatever."

"Ooh, pretty pastel sweaters," you parroted him mockingly. Annoying little bugger that he is. "You'd stretch it out anyways," you mutter, throwing the notebook and the pencil case in your backpack haphazardly before standing up, his jacket falling down to the middle of your skirt.

Eddie hummed as you threw your stuff in, mentally making a note to ask why the hell did it look like it was a second away from exploding. Just what did you put in there? Then, his eyes registered his jacket contrasting with the pastel skirt like some sort of weird fashion statement or a bad collage of a child. He couldn't deny that it looked kinda cute on you, and that thought made his stomach twist in the worst way. Stop looking at her, moron. "You leaving?"

"I'm hungry," you replied, tilting your head, "I want snacks. You coming?"

"Starving," he answered easily, pushing himself out of the chair and grabbing his beaten– and practically empty– backpack. He glanced at the way his jacket draped over you, sleeves swallowing your hands entirely, and something stupidly warm flooded his chest. "There's a vending machine by the cafeteria that actually works if you hit it with a textbook first."

You let out a low whistle, "Nice. Free food then." And a good way of stalling, you added in your head.

"Not free, Sunshine," he corrected with a smirk, falling into step beside you as you two headed toward the doors. "Just efficient. There's a difference." His shoulder brushed against your arm as you walked, and for a moment he considered linking his pinky with yours. Too cheesy, he shook his head. But his hand twitched anyway.

You adjusted the strap of your backpack, your thoughts so laser focused you forgot to reply, shoes squeaking on the linoleum when you stop in front of the vending machine. Your eyes narrowed behind the thick lenses of your glasses, scanning the options. The plan was important, but you didn't exclude the possibility of a pit stop for refueling... Yeah, this was totally calculated. Absolutely.

Eddie watched you intently, the frame of the glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "You gonna choose something or just stare death into those snacks?" he teased lightly.

"Shut up, this is a serious dilemma," you replied, grabbing your wallet. Why did it always have to end up at the bottom of your backpack? You dug your arm in practically to the elbow, huffing and grumbling until you finally felt the texture of the fake leather. "Ha ha!"

You counted the coins, fumbling slightly because of the cuffs of his jacket, "Chocolate bar or chips?"

Eddie didn't lift a finger to help, enjoying with a smug smile the muttered curses falling from your lips. Something about seeing his clothes on you while you drop coins like a puppy in too-big boots made his chest feel tight. "Chips," he said simply, leaning over and tapping the machine above the Doritos. "Trust me— you're gonna need the crunch. Helps me think during chemistry too."

You looked at him, and then smirked. "'Kay, chocolate it is then," you slot in the coins, punching in the number.

He rolled his eyes dramatically as you intentionally chose the opposite of what he recommended. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. "Of course," he commented sarcastically, "you'd pick the sugar bomb instead of actual brain food."

"Sugar's better for the brain," you retorted, and then groaned when the bar stopped against the glass. Just your luck. And what's the best way to deal with a stuck snack? Kicking the machine, obviously, "Oh come on!"

Behind you, Eddie cackled loudly like a gremlin, "That's called karma! See, see, you should've bought the chips!"

He pushed off from the wall, stepping closer to you. "And kicking it never helps."

You ignored him pointedly, bending down to try and reach it from the bottom. You hoped the good old sticking your arm through the flap would at least move it, "Ugh."

Now, he truly did want to help, but then you went and gave him a view like that... He should look away. He really should. But instead, he found himself staring at the way your glasses slid down your nose as you strained, the soft sounds of frustration you were making. Yeah, he was totally checking out your glasses.

With a sigh, he crouched down next to you.

"Here, let me," Eddie murmured, his large hands gently pushing yours aside as he reached into the machine. His fingers brushed against the chocolate bar, and he managed to hook it out with his pinky. Then he sat back up, holding out the chocolate bar to you with a smirk. "See? That's how it's done."

"Fuck off, I was gonna reach it," you grumbled good-naturedly, snatching it from his hand. How dare he have those stupid long fingers.

"Uh-huh," Eddie replied sarcastically, pushing back to his feet.

After dusting off your skirt, you tore the wrapping open, cracked the bar in two and gave him half wordlessly. You bit into it without waiting for a response, almost moaning at the sweet taste, "That's the good stuff."

He stared at the broken chocolate bar in his hand for a moment, then at you. He caught you mid-chew, your eyes hidden behind those thick glasses, hair slightly disheveled, his jacket dwarfing you.

You blinked back, cheeks already full, "Whaf?"

He took a bite of the chocolate, not even arguing about sharing. Something about the way you just knew to split it without asking made his stomach do that stupid backflip again. "Aw, I knew you cared about me," he replied, annoying on purpose, but his voice was softer than he intended, crumbs from the chocolate on his lips. "And sharing is caring, Sunshine."

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall. "I gotta feed my leech," you commented with a shrug, licking your thumb.

Eddie's gaze followed your tongue against his will, and he had to physically remind himself to look away from the way you cleaned the chocolate residue. Don't be weird. The casual way you referred to him as a leech didn't even bother him— it was almost endearing coming from you.

"A leech," he gasped dramatically, taking a step back in mock offense. "Is that the only thing I am to you?"

His eyes were fixed on your lips now, tracking stray chocolate from the corner of your mouth. He wasn't even sure what he was asking anymore. You were just chewing chocolate in the hallway, wearing his jacket, and he'd somehow forgotten how to form coherent thoughts. What was a leech again?

You averted your eyes, pretending to be perfectly calm. Why's he staring? Please stop staring or I'm gonna have a heart attack. "Right," you hummed, pretending to actually think about it, "a limpet or a barnacle is a better fit."

Eddie's lips twitched with amusement, and he took another bite of his half of the chocolate bar, mostly to try and regain control over his wayward thoughts. "A barnacle," he echoed in a scandalized tone, maintaing the pretense. "So I'm just permanently attached to you, huh? No chance of being scraped off?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, eyes alight with mirth behind the lenses, "I tried. You're still here."

Something warm and dangerous unfurled in his chest at that, familiar and slightly scary. Still here. You made it sound like a complaint, but with the way you were still wearing his jacket— still sharing your chocolate, still walking beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world— he knew it was anything but. "Maybe you're not trying hard enough, Sunshine," he retorted, voice rough.

"Hm. What do you think I should do?" You pondered, pushing up your glasses, "Maybe if I forced you to listen to pop songs you'd drop me." It was fun, entertaining conversations like this, especially when you both knew there was truly no chance either of you would leave. The blackmail material was too much.

On the other side, Eddie's brain conjured the stupidest picture it could think of: you singing loudly (and badly) to some happy-go-lucky melody in the middle of the hallway. He nearly choked on his chocolate imagining that. The mental scene was so far removed from the real you— that genuinely thoughtful, often quiet and slightly awkward girl in his jacket— that he burst out laughing instead of answering your question seriously. "Fuck no."

It was your turn to subtly stare at him, admiring that ridiculously pretty smile of his, and forcefully moving your eyes upwards instead of following the column of his neck. You smiled to yourself at the sound of his laughter, taking another bite of the chocolate.

But Eddie caught the little quirk of your lips. And he mentally cursed– he's in deep. Like, fuck, he's in deep.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he clicked his tongue, shaking his head in pretend disappointment, "Trying to leave the poor barnacle alone just to watch him suffer."

Your cheeks were still slightly dusted with pink from his earlier gaze, but you somehow managed to keep your voice normal when you retorted, "I always like watching you suffer. It's top tier entertainment."

He grinned despite himself, taking the last bite of his chocolate. "You're a fucking sadist, Sunshine," he said, but there was no real heat behind the words. He was too busy thinking about how he could get that pink in your cheeks again.

"Nah, I just like seeing you in misery," you replied, licking the remaining chocolate off your lips.

Eddie's mind blanked for a second before he could remember this was actually a two-way conversation and he wasn't a wall. Were you trying to send him to an early grave?

His eyes tracked your tongue automatically, following the slow swipe across your bottom lip. His throat felt suddenly dry, and it had nothing to do with the chocolate melting in his mouth. Fuck. You were just eating chocolate, but somehow it looked... Nope. Not going there.

Focused on teasing him, unaware you were already doing so, you continued on your train of thought. Who wastes a chance to mess with their best friend? "Like, watching you trip and and eat shit last week? That was absolutely priceless."

A genuine laugh burst out of him at that memory— him almost losing his teeth on the wet stairs while you stood there, trying to hide your smile behind those fucking adorable glasses. "You're welcome," he commented drily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ah, the good days," you sighed in an exaggeratedly nostalgic tone, like it had been fifty years ago instead of just seven days. Sweet tooth still active in full force, you fished a lollipop from your backpack, popping it in your mouth.

Eddie watched, fascinated, as you produced candy from your backpack like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Shut the fridge. How many things are you hiding in there? He reached out, snagging the stick of your lollipop between his fingers. "Share," he demanded flatly, like it was his right that if you had one, it was automatic he would too.

Regular protocol. You stomped on his foot to take back the lollipop, and handed him your backpack without even commenting, used to his constant requests. "Left pocket."

He whined petulantly at the 'mortal wound!' and then immersed himself in rummaging through the indicated pocked, his fingers brushing against various pens and an alarming amount of candy. He glanced at you; maybe he could see what was actually making a normal backpack weigh a fucking ton?

His metaphorical claws retracted at the sharp glare he received, "Okay, sorry, sorry. Jesus..."

He pulled out a small stash of lollipops instead, selecting a cherry one. He unwrapped it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"So you just carry backup snacks for me?" he asked.

You grabbed the backpack, thanking every saint in existence he actually listened for once and didn't snoop through your stuff. You absolutely didn't look at the way he licked the lollipop. You. Did. Not. Why did guys always have to be gifted with the plumpest lips on Earth?

"Yup," you roll your own lollipop in your mouth, taking advantage of your free hands to put them in the pockets of the jacket, sinking more into it, "you always ask me anyways. Like a fucking raccoon."

Eddie laughed, the sound distorted from the candy. He pretended not to take great delight in the way you snuggled deeper into his jacket, your hands disappearing into the pockets. His pockets. His jacket. His everything, it seems. "A raccoon?" he repeated, lowering the lollipop. "A raccoon, Sunshine?"

"Pretty much," you gesture to him with the lollipop, counting on your other hand, "the hair. The black clothes. The thievery. The eyebags..."

"Eyebags?" Eddie parroted, mock-offended, but he grinned nonetheless. He caught the way your words just rolled off your tongue like you'd thought about this before. Little shit's been preparing for the question.

"I'll have you know these are mysterious shadows, not eyebags. Very sophisticated. But a critter like you wouldn't understand." He leaned against the wall again, twirling the cherry lollipop.

"Ha!" You barked out a sharp laugh, "sophisticated. Right."

He could tell you didn't believe him. Could see the way you were trying not to smile, the way your glasses were slipping down your nose again. Something warm and heavy settled in his chest— this weird, possessive satisfaction. You call him names, complain about him, but you're always here. Wearing his jacket. Literally feeding him.

The warning bell rang, interrupting your conversation. Students started filtering out of the classes, laughing and talking in groups.

Your lollipop clicked against your teeth. Holy shit, you did it. You managed to distract him long enough. Now you can keep the jacket at least until the end of the school day.

You pushed off the wall, trying not to look too giddy, "Time to go."

Eddie followed, his arm brushing against yours as he fell into step beside you. He was suddenly very aware of how comfortable you looked in his jacket. How pretty you looked in his jacket. Fuck.

"Hey, Sunshine?" he called out, loud enough so you could hear him through the chatter.

You walked through the crowd of students, gears in your head already moving, "Hm?"

"You gonna give me back my jacket anytime soon?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. But in his mind, he was praying you wanted to hold on to it just a tad longer. In fact, he hoped you'd say no. He liked seeing you in his jacket. A lot. Too much.

"Oh yeah, about that," you smiled, mischief in your eyes, "you're not getting it back. See you!" You bolted before he could drag you back by the collar, snickering like a mastermind of evil.

Eddie froze mid-step as you disappeared into the sea of students, his jacket swallowed by the crowd. He stared after you for a moment, the cherry lollipop still between his teeth, before a slow grin spread across his face.

"Barnacle," he muttered fondly, shaking his head. "Fucking barnacle."

And somehow, he wasn't even mad about it.

Phase 2: Afternoon

Now, the next step had to be more calculated. Convincing Eddie of doing things he didn't want to do was always a feat, which meant the approach had to be simultaneously bolder and subdued enough that he wouldn't notice the manipulation. Thankfully, you had just the right idea on how to proceed.

After school, he was walking out of the building, almost dragging his bag, when he saw you leaning against the wall near the parking lot. Your backpack was slung over one shoulder and you were still wearing– shit, did you even take it off for five minutes?– his jacket.

You kicked pebbles absentmindedly, looking down at your shoes as you rehearsed the lines in your head. Pissing him off was easy enough, but doing it in a way that let you steer the conversation where you wanted was another.

Eddie approached you slowly, his heart rate picking up with each step. The low sun casted a warm glow on your face, making you look... different. Softer. Less like the girl who constantly bothered him. He stopped right in front of you, blocking your view of the parking lot.

You raised your head at the familiar shadow, "Finally. You always take ages to get out."

Eddie rolled his eyes at your complaint, "Well, maybe if you weren't always waiting for me, you wouldn't have to complain," he retorted, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh so you don't want me to wait for you?" You shrugged, walking forward and hiding your smug grin in the collar of the jacket, "Okay."

Panic spiked through him at your casual response, his hand instinctively reaching out to grab your arm as you tried to walk away. "Fuck no, that's not what I said," he muttered, pulling you back so you were standing in front of him again. "I just meant—"

You let him turn you around, smirk widening, "Ah, Ed, you're so gullible. You didn't even notice the direction I'm walking in."

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the expression on your face, realizing you were moving towards his van. You're planning something. His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment at falling for your little trick. "Real fucking mature, Sunshine," he grumbled, releasing your arm.

"Sore loser," you quipped, leaning on the side of the van, safe from the cold of the metal in his jacket.

Eddie watched you settle against his van, strands of hair moving with the wind and falling over those damn glasses sliding down your nose. He felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and fix them, but he pushed down the itch in his hands. Instead, he unlocked the van doors, opening the passenger side for you. "Get in before you freeze."

Your eyes glinted. Let's start the show.

You made a show of wiggling in his jacket, "Hm, but I'm comfy."

His eyes followed the movement of your jacket, his grip tightening on the door handle. You, refusing the warmth of the van? Suspicious as hell. "Sunshine," he warned, a twitch in his brow. "Get in the fucking van before I—" He paused, realizing he had no actual threat to back that up with. "Before I leave without you."

You knew he wouldn't. He'd rather freeze with you than leave. Your gaze zeroes in on the slight sign of frustration, and you batten down the metaphorical hatches, crossing your legs, skirt shifting over your thighs, "Hmmmm. Dunno."

His traitorous stare flickered down despite himself, catching the way the skirt shifted over those plush, pretty thighs– Fuck. He swallowed hard, kicking into silence the voice in his head whispering things he shouldn't be thinking. Like how he wants to bite your thighs. How soft your lips look. No no no. Nope. He wants to bang his head on the van.

"Sunshine," he grit out.

You blinked innocently, batting your eyelashes slowly on purpose, "Yeees?"

"Don't you fucking 'yes' me," Eddie pointed a finger at you accusingly, pulling out that glare that usually made other people nervous. Not you though. You just tilted your head, that innocent look never leaving your face. He could tell you were enjoying this– enjoying how flustered you were making him.

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, realizing he's being manipulated by a girl who's half his size. A girl who looks fucking adorable in his jacket while she teases him mercilessly about a damn van ride. He should be annoyed.

"I'm not even cold," you shrugged, peeping at him from the rim of your glasses as you burrowed in his jacket, taking a long pause before adding the last strike, "I've got leg warmers."

Eddie stared. His brain grinded to halt so abruptly he fleetly wondered if you can her the noise. Stared at you in his jacket, batting those stupid eyelashes behind those stupid glasses while casually mentioning you've got stupid leg warmers under your skirt. Fucking. Leg. warmers.

"Fuck's sake," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. The image of your plump, supple thighs in leg warmers– get out of my damn head.

He was losing his mind over fucking leg warmers. Leg warmers! Eddie had officially hit a new low in his life– getting aroused by casual mentions of thermal clothing. He was about to tell you to fuck off and walk to your house yourself when you shifted slightly.

You scanned his reactions with clinical precision, and refrained from smirking at the clear victory. Hook, line, sinker. You tilted your head again, the tip of your nose numbed by the cold, "Where are we even going?"

"Home," Eddie answered gruffly, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be a functioning human being. "My place. Or yours. I don't give a shit." He leaned against the van, trying to regain a modicum of dignity. It didn't work. He just looked like a man who'd been mentally defeated by a girl in his oversized jacket. "You pick."

Bingo. At the magic words, you brightened up instantly, smile so wide he was almost blinded. Without wasting another second, you climbed in the van, "Okay. Lover's Lake then."

At the sudden one-eighty, he felt like he'd been played. Totally, completely blindsided like a fool. "Lover's Lake?" Eddie echoed, blinking as you settled in the passenger seat like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like you didn't just torture him for five minutes over a fucking jacket and leg warmers. "You wanna go to Lover's Lake?"

You didn't give him any explanation, simply replying, "Yep."

He spluttered, "Wha– it's freezing! Why the hell you wanna go there?"

No response.

Eddie stared in bewilderment at you for a moment longer before shaking his head and slamming his door shut. He walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, starting the engine. The van rumbled to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot without another word.

What the hell just happened?

Phase 3: Sunset

When you arrived at Lover's Lake, Eddie parked his van near the secluded spot where kids usually go to make out or drink underage. On his part, maybe he shouldn't have assumed. But could you blame him? Your weird behaviour all day had brought him to just hope for something.

He cut the engine and turned to look at you. "So. What's the occasion, Sunshine? You drag me out here for a date?" He said it sarcastically, but it covered for any tremble in his voice.

"Nope," you popped the word, and climbed out without saying anything else, leaving him dumbfounded yet again, directed down to the edge of the lake. You started another pep talk as you descended on the snowy ground. You're here, there's no going back. Pull yourself together.

Eddie watched you climb out and head straight for the lake's edge, that stupid jacket swallowing you whole. It took him a solid thirty seconds to scramble out and follow, because apparently he was a lost puppy now, trailing after a girl who wouldn't give him the time of day unless she was teasing him about his jacket or leg warmers. The wind bit at his face, but he could barely notice. He almost faceplanted twice while trying to reach you, feeling completely out of his element as his heart thumped loudly in his ears and his mind spiraled. What were you even doing here?!

Down on the shore, you dropped your backpack on the ground with a huff. Zipping it open, you were entirely focused on pulling out stuff to notice his fidgeting beside you. You pulled out a box while Eddie watched, his eyes almost popping out of his skull. Who the hell are you, Mary Poppins? "What the fuck are you doing?" He asked. "Are you gonna pull out a gun and shoot me?"

"No, silly barnacle," you grin, and open the box, "we're skating."

"Skating," Eddie repeated flatly, looking at the box like it might've been filled with poisonous spiders. "You wanna go skating." He stared at the ice skates, then at you, trying to reconcile the introvert he knows with the one who wants to go ice skating. Of all the things he expected coming here, fucking ice skating wasn't even remotely in the list.

But on the ground, you were practically vibrating with excitement. You did it, you brought him here. Now you just had to find the guts to finish the plan. You attached the blades to your shoes, and then grabbed his ankle without warning him, "Huh huh."

He stumbled, arms flailing around for balance as he's caught off guard by your sudden grab at his ankle.

"Sunshine, I don't— I never—" He started to protest, but your hands were already working on his shoes, and he realized this was happening whether he liked it or not. "When did you even get these?" he asked, watching you attach the blades to his sneakers with practiced ease.

"Oh, here and there," you shrugged, rummaging through the bag like it held the secrets of the universe.

Eddie's brain was still reeling. Eddie Munson, outcast, nerd extraordinaire, convinced hater of conformity and allergic to all things romantic (or so he tries to say) is about to go ice skating. Him. What? Had entered an alternate dimension and he didn't know? No. He was totally in a coma. He had an accident on the way here and was now hallucinating–

"Hey!" You pulled him out of his confusion, and threw a pair of gloves at his face, before putting on yours too, "Here."

He caught the gloves against his face automatically, staring at them like they were going to bite him. "You planned this," he deadpans, realization dawning. "You planned this whole fucking thing. The teasing, the jacket, the leg warmers—" He pauses, seeing you look up at him innocently. "The leg warmers, Sunshine."

"What, if I asked you would've said no," you smiled knowingly, and took out a coat too, the black wool warm and heavy, "and wear this."

Eddie's eyes widened. It was clearly too big for you, meaning it must fit him perfectly. Not only you made a whole scheme to get him here, but you thought about his well-being too. As if he wasn't already such a goner for you. His fingers brushed against the soft material before he realized what he was doing, and he scowled. "You're seriously telling me what to wear now? You know what this is? Betrayal. Mutiny. Treachery!"

"It's because I have your jacket, idiot," you grinned, zipping up the backpack and standing, "I can't let you freeze, can I?"

He sighed in exasperation, feeling like a victim to your whims, but he put the coat on anyway. Because despite himself, he didn't want to freeze his balls off out here. The coat fit perfectly, swallowing him whole just like your jacket swallowed you earlier. "Happy?"

"Come on," you elbow him playfully, hiding the nervousness. "I even got it black just for you."

Eddie's scowl deepened, pretending he hadn't felt another twist in his chest— the word 'black' and the way you said it like it meant something. Like that color is now specifically associated with him and only him. He looked down at you— the too-big jacket, your pink nose, the way your hair is messy from the wind— and suddenly Lover's Lake didn't seem so stupid anymore.

"Touching, Sunshine."

"Let's go, grumpy," you smile, taking his hand and pulling him on the frozen water. You held him tightly, screaming in your head that you were finally, finally doing this. No more wishing he'd hold your hand and mean it, no more trying to find hidden thoughts between the lines.

In front of you, standing on wobbly legs, was a malfunctioning Eddie. He let you pull him onto the ice because his brain had stopped working. Hadn't worked since you first put on his jacket, honestly. His skates clunked awkwardly against the smooth surface before he found his balance, but you were already gliding forward with that easy grace that suggested you'd been on the unsteady surface enough to know your way around.

"Sunshine, I don't—"

"Don't look down," you interrupted him, squeezing his hands as you moved slowly, gently, "bend your knees slightly. The more tense you are, the less you'll move forward."

He tried to relax his knees like you'd said, feeling stupid and embarrassed as he wobbled along the ice. You were like a damn baby swan compared to him— all graceful and shit while he looked like he was trying to walk on stilts. But most of all, he was trying to ignore the way his heart fired like an overworked engine at the smiles you were giving. The soft looks, with the sun behind you? So pretty he almost forgot about the risk of ice cracking. "I look like an idiot," he grumbled.

"No, you don't," you grinned, and stopped both of you in the centre of the lake, "and you haven't seen the best part yet."

Eddie stopped with you, looking around at the frozen lake. It was daytime, the sun slowly setting and casting everything in a soft orange glow, making it look like they were standing in a pool of orange juice. The ice was clear in some places, showing the dark water beneath. It was quiet out there—no one else around. Just you and him and the sound of the wind.

"What's the best part?"

You took a breath, ready to pull the move. You skated close to him, so close... You felt his eyes on you, the warmth exuding from him. You opened your arms, almost like you were going to hug him... And then you chickened out. Fuck! No! So. Stupid!

You dug your hands in the pocket of his coat instead, taking out two beanies, "Ta da!"

Eddie stopped breathing when you moved forward, his heart fluttering, like a bird trying to escape. But then you were just digging into his pockets again— this time pulling out two beanies— and suddenly all the tension drained out of him, replaced by amusement mixed with annoyance. He almost thought... He looked away quickly, focusing on the ice instead of your stupid face.

You berate yourself mentally, wishing the ice would crack open and let you drown. How could you do that? All those preparation, all those night spent thinking and then you do this shit? Are you stupid?? You put the beanie on, trying to recover, snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes as you looked up, "Damn, just in time."

He was still watching you, observing the snowflakes get caught in your eyelashes, and his annoyance melted away completely. Yeah, he shouldn't ruin this. He pulled the other beanie over his head without thinking, hiding his messy hair and making him look... cuter. He immediately scowled deeper to compensate. "You always carry two beanies?"

You bit your lip and took his hands again, attempting to restart your plan. You glided backwards while pulling him along, "Duh. One for me, one for the barnacle."

Eddie allowed you to pull him along, his scowl softening a little more. The icestands were slick beneath his skates, the wind was cold against his cheeks, and he was holding hands with a girl who calls him a barnacle. Life is weird.

You stared at him, watching his expression as you slowly skated, gloved hands snug in his.

He felt your gaze, intense, like there was something you were desperate to say. He made the mistake of glancing down, catching you staring. His face flushed red— not just from the cold— and he opened his mouth to say a joke, something sarcastic, anything! But he just... couldn't. You looked too cute with the snow in your hair, his jacket, your stupid beanie, all of it. I'm too weak for her.

"What?" he muttered, not looking away.

"Nothing," you replied, smile soft. For a second, you forgot all about the plan, and just existed. Simply, with him. In the quiet, enjoying such asilly thing. Your eyes took in every detail of his face, committing them to memory. Yeah, even if it didn't work... this was worth it. "I'm just having fun."

"You're weird, Sunshine," he said gruffly, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through him. Your eyes were burning through him in a way he couldn't manage, like instead of the normal setting sun, he was yours.

"Pot meet kettle," you retorted, and you got an idea. A risky, but possibly rewarding idea. Before he could react, you pulled his beanie down to his eyes.

Eddie's vision was suddenly obscured by the beanie, and he stumbled, catching himself on you instead of the ice. He was suddenly very aware of your hands on his chest, your face pressed against his wool coat. "Hey!" He exclaimed, trying to push the beanie back up without letting go of you.

Now or never. You took advantage of his temporary blindness, and leaned up. Your lips brushed against his for less than a second, a barely there touch, so feather light it could've been anything. You pulled back with a shaky breath, hesitantly trying to gauge his reaction.

Meanwhile, Eddie had frozen completely, heart stopping dead in his chest. Did you just...? Was that...? His brain short-circuited, hands gripping your arms tightly even though he wasn't falling anymore. The beanie was still pushed down over his eyes, but he could barely feel his own body at the moment. Every alarm he had was currently firing off in his mind, thoughts overlapping in pure panic. What did that mean?! What did you mean with that?!

You didn't say anything, anxiety growing every second he stayed still. Regret started to flood your mind. Was he not saying anything because he was looking for the right words to reject you? Fuck, what if he was disgusted?!

He stood there like an idiot, beanie covering his eyes, hands on your arms, brain completely scrambled. He couldn't tell if that had been actually a kiss or if he imagined it. Maybe he hit his head skating? But no, your lips were soft, and brief, and right there...

You swallowed hard, and gently tugged his beanie up, apprehensively searching his eyes, "Eddie?"

He blinked rapidly as light flooded his vision again. His mouth was hanging open slightly, expression completely stunned. He looked at you, the fear in your eyes. You're waiting for a reaction, expecting rejection probably, but... fuck.

"You—" Eddie's voice cracked embarrassingly. He tried to clear his throat, but all that came out was flustered squeaking. "You can't just— Sunshine, you can't just fucking—" He was searching for words, but all he could think about is how soft your lips were, how quick the kiss was, how he wants to do it again. Properly. All the garbled sentences in his head were not making any sense, and he felt like his logic had thrown itself off a cliff.

Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand his stammers. Was he rejecting you? Did he never want to see you again?! "What?"

His face turned beet red. He had an infinite vocabulary to describe a stupid wall of stone in campaigns and he couldn't even manage a single one to express himself, especially not when his brain was short-circuiting like this. He'd never felt more stupid. "The kiss," he blurted out. "Was that a real kiss or am I hallucinating because I hit my head?"

You blinked owlishly. It's gotta be a joke, you thought. But then you looked at his panic stricken face, clearly on the verge of vomiting out random words in hope something would stick, and you realized he was completely serious. It was so silly. So ridiculous. So him. Laughter bubbled up your throat, "Pffft–"

Eddie's expression worsened at your laughter. He felt dumb— like an idiot who just asked if a kiss was real or not. Like a cretin who didn't know anything about kissing. Which he was. He thought you were laughing at him. "Shut up."

All the fear you had, all the insecurities suddenly melted away like an ice cream in July, and the situation felt even sillier. "I'm sorry, Ed. I should've been braver," you smile, wide and happy.

His anger died immediately at the way you said 'braver'. Like you were nervous too? Like kissing him wasn't obvious or something gross? He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy. "It was barely a kiss," he muttered, trying to sound casual and totally not like you swiped the world from under his feet.

"I'm sorry," you repeated, full of warmth, eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, "can I try again?"

Eddie's throat went dry. His hands were still on your arms, fingers pressing into the wool of his jacket. Your glasses were fogged slightly, snowflakes caught in your lashes, mouth pink from the cold. And you were asking permission. Like he wouldn't burn his guitar for you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, you can."

You nodded, heart so loud you could barely hear him. Your hands held him too as you stood on the tip of your skates, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss, longer than before.

His eyes fluttered shut at the soft pressure. He stood stiffly, still in disbelief, but then your hands were cupping his face gently and he just... gave up. His hands slid up your arms to tangle in the back of your hair, tilting your head slightly as he kissed you back.

Finally.

The Eddie-proof plan to confess: Success!

Credits for the dividers: @saradika-graphics

It comes to you in flashes, the moments that had made you realise he settled under your ribs as easily as oxygen. Feeding you lines on tech runs. The way the lights caught the edge of his jaw. The way, no matter how many times you told yourself it was fake, he hesitated before he would kiss you. When you’d have to pretend you weren’t searching for his name on the rehearsal sheet. How every run, every setback, felt bearable when he’d gently squeeze your hand backstage.

You’d promised yourself you’d never let the fold of curtains and too many hours and bitter coffee deceive you again. And yet, here you are. Eyes, dangerously close to welling up. The image of him, giving you a shy wave, backpack slung off one shoulder. No matter what, you would’ve lost. If you’d ran up to him, told him the truth, and then watched him go anyway. Still, staying silent had been a different kind of betrayal, a different type of knife in the gut. Maybe you were being dramatic. That was the only way you knew how to be. And it was logical. You’d both been doing theatre for so many years, and he had never once crossed a line. So, the odds weren’t favourable. Still, you can’t help but wonder. What if, when you’d first noticed you breathed easier with him around, you’d said something? And what if, in between meticulous blocking and memorised lines, there was some truth in his confession? If you’d been braver, maybe it would be different. On the other side of having him and losing him, which is maybe better than never having him at all.

You pick up your phone. It’s a personal attack when a photo of the two of you from closing night flashes. You forgot that it was in your rotation of lockscreens. Cruel.

Still, when you admire the way you’re both subtly trying to glance at each other, the way his knuckles are nearly white as he grips your hand, you hesitate. You do not reach for your headphones, do not try to find a playlist nearly as miserable as you. Instead, you call him.

“Hey, Oscar.”

There’s the sound of steady static, and for a moment, it’s your only reply.

“Hey? Please don’t tell me I forgot something.” he mumbles, and you exhale a little at the sound of his voice. You’re slightly confused by the clear nerves, but his shallow breathing matches your own.

“Are you- are you okay to talk right now? Or just listen? I have something I’d like to say.” you begin, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. You can imagine him raising an eyebrow in curiosity, the slight confusion on his face.

“Um, yeah. ‘Course.”

You smile a little, even though your wall is the recipient.

“Okay. Look, maybe I should’ve done this before you left, but I wasn’t brave enough. And now you’re gone, so I figured it’s okay? You can just, I don’t know, block me. After this. If you want.”

He chuckles now, and the sound makes your stomach flip shamelessly.

“I’m not going to do that. You know I get withdrawal symptoms if I can’t bother you at least once a day.”

The memory hits like a punch. When you’d been disappointed to see his name beside yours on the cast list, and you still weren’t over it two weeks later. When he’d messaged you twice in the span of thirty minutes, and you’d got so irritated you’d snapped.

‘Do you have to bother me every day? It’s like you’re fuckin’ addicted to annoying me.’

‘You got me. Hands get shaky if I don’t ask you politely what scene we’re running in the morning.’

That was the first time he’d made you laugh, and the last time any message from him had aggravated you.

“I think I like you. In that pathetic, ‘we did a show together and I think about our stage kisses a little too often’ kind of way. And I’d really appreciate some type of script right now, because I have no idea what to say. I mean, was it just a part that we were playing? ‘Cause it didn’t feel like we were faking. I barely even, fuck, I mean. I had to force myself to stop loving you when the curtains closed.” you confess, all in one ridiculously desperate breath.

The silence on the other end hurts, and the butterflies in your stomach decide to substitute their wings for blades.

“Oscar?”

There’s the sound of a crack, and some rustling, and then some unintelligible cursing. Then the line, with one last fizzle of hope, goes dead.

You hadn’t expected such a blunt reaction. It’s actually so shocking, at first, that you don’t quite react. You blink, and you breathe, because that’s pretty easy to manage. But you don’t stop tugging at your sleeve, and your knees stay tucked into your chest. You bite back the type of tears that only fall because of rejection, and you let yourself mourn and recover simultaneously. At least now, there is no what-if.

Your phone blares dramatically loud about a minute later. You almost don’t pick up. But you realise you’re far too hopeless to not secretly want to hear his voice again.

“Shit, sorry about that. Dropped my phone. Anyway, where were we?” he asks, and you want to laugh, but you’re still fragile.

“Oscar, don’t be mean.”

You can hear the thudding of feet, and then the angry honk of a car, and the beeping of a crossing.

“Sorry, just almost got ran over. And I’m not trying to be mean, that’s unfair. Just asking about where we left off.”

“God, you are infuriating.”

“Pretty sure that’s not what you were just saying-”

You cut him off with a confused question.

“-Are you not, like, on a bus right now?”

He clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, not really. I got off, after you called. Dropped my phone as I was going down the steps, which was embarrassing. I heard the driver snicker at me.”

He laughs at himself now, but it sounds a bit strangled.

“Oscar, what the fuck?”

“Look out of your window. That’s your window, right?”

You get up, opening the blinds. And there, standing directly under a streetlight, stands a boy. He’s waving both arms frantically, and you raise an astounded palm back.

“I’m going to hang up now. I hope that’s okay.”

With that, the line goes dead again. 

There’s nothing graceful in the way you tumble down the stairs, flinging yourself out of the front door, forgetting to care about your white socks quickly staining.

You hear a yell of your name from the kitchen, and some flurry of movement, but you do not hesitate.

You continue to lack grace as you tumble into Oscar, giggling at his noise of surprise at your borderline attack.

“Hello. You’re insane.” you accuse, but it’s hard to get the words out because of how he’s looking at you. 

“Hello. You might be right.”

There’s that all too familiar hesitation, in the way he brings a hand to the side of your cheek, and the gentle lean-

“-Oh! Oscar, do come in. I’ve just put some pizza on. I thought you were meant to be heading back home today?”