jenneviel
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Clearly he has some sort of secret admirer, and it feels like high school, when girls would slip unsigned notes into his locker but inevitably reveal themselves when they ran out of patience or realized he wasn’t actively looking for whoever left the note. But this person, they’ve waited a month—and they still give no indication as to who they are.
It makes Steve want to know.
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“Breathe with me man,” he finally comprehends, too frazzled to figure out who’s speaking to him. He dimly feels fingers wrap around his wrist and lift it so that his hand is pressed against a firm chest. “Come on, match my breath. You got it.”
“We shouldn’t have brought him here,” someone says, sounding apologetic. “What were we thinking, bringing him back to Lover’s Lake?”
Eddie finally manages to suck in a lungful of air, in sync with the chest rising beneath his palm. It catches on his throat on the way out and makes him cough, makes his eyes tear up. There’s a pair of hands on him, then another, and another, and together they pull his trembling form out of the water. He hacks out another round of coughs before attempting to breathe again, his hand still being held in place. Only when he takes more breaths, still shaky but consistent, is his hand released. He misses the warmth around his wrist and beneath his palm immediately.
“I don’t wanna die,” he mumbles, somewhat incoherent. “I don’t wanna die again.”
[Eddie can't seem to do anything right. Even when he dies, he manages to fuck it up.]
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Steve crosses his legs and scoots closer, puffing out his chest and offering Eddie his hand with the dramatic flair he learned from the man himself.
“Eddie Munson,” he declares, ignoring the snickers coming from Robin. “Will you be my date to my father’s god-awful business dinner?”
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Years ago you asked me what two men could do living together on a ranch. I’ll answer you now.
In the after, Jake and Silva discover the answer together.
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James Norrington tears himself apart to make a bouquet of skin and bone.